EPT
This week was rough. A long night of gaming was essential.
Some would be aghast at the sacrifice of sleep necessary to partake in a marathon day of gaming such as this. Others might suggest a more “productive” exercise. Something like going for a walk, exercising, or house cleaning (which, in fairness, I’ve always found to be psychically cleansing). Because while games can be successfully employed as therapy, that usage implies a controlled setting and a clear goal. Conversely, delving into games for hours and hours on end, especially during a difficult time of life, might appear to be sheer escapism. Games certainly can be used to stave off inevitable choices, unanswerable questions, and depressing thoughts. Hell, the immersive and stimulating nature of games makes them better at doing so than most things. Look at Skyrim, Fallout, Bioshock (either), Assassin’s Creed, or Dishonored: the worlds are so expansive, so detailed, so real that they can approach reality. That’s more than enough invitation to ignore reality itself, filled as it can be with pain. It’s been done before.
Yet for all my late nights parked before a screen, I don’t see myself as fleeing into my games. Instead, their unreality is what enables me to parse the real world into information that’s comprehensible. My core philosophy throughout my adulthood is that life is a game. Not a frivolous or carefree game, but one with extremely high stakes (License To Kill mode in full and obnoxious effect), overbearingly strict rules, and unusual victory conditions*. If there’s one person (though there are many) that can take a game seriously, it’s me. However, the problem with reality is that the rules change constantly, the playing field is in constant flux, and the optimal strategy shifts from moment to moment. Life is a game… it’s just not a very good one. But since you’re not going to refuse to play, dealing with the house rules, imbalance, or whatever you want to call the inherent unfairness within is just another part of learning how to play.
* Yes I think you can win at life. Only problem is everyone defines their own conditions within another set of additional conditions which are entirely contextual. Again, the game isn’t very well-designed.
On the other hand, video games have rules which are defined and comprehensible, structured and logical, and, most importantly, fixed. There’s a comfort in this constant. It’s the same kind of comfort that is derived from anything familiar, but it applies differently to games than other things. While video games differ wildly in genre, presentation, and style, the systems which compose them don’t randomly reverse themselves or just say “fuck it” and peace out. Essentially, no matter what game I play (and I demand a variety), there’s a commonality between it and any other given game that places it in the consistent unreality of gaming. I know that when I press the control stick like so, my avatar will move in this direction. I know that start pauses the game and right trigger fires your weapon. I know that the mouse button aims. I know that you right-click to move forward. I can tell you what red blips on your radar mean, how a health bar differs from a mana bar, and what items and equipment are optimal for each scenario. Yes, narratives, worlds, and plots immerse me, but books do that just as effectively. In games I have my own control, but it’s control within a structured environment that I understand and love. In every game there is familiar ground because each game shares traits that reassure and soothe me more than anything else.
Reality is confusing and arbitrary, but it’s all we have. We are here and that is that. Yet sometimes gravity’s exertions are more forceful than the previous day’s, sometimes the wind gusts towards us harder than normal, sometimes it’s hotter or colder out than we can bear. When the weight of the world is at its strongest, I’m relieved that there’s an oasis to which I can return. Where I can float weightlessly and regain my bearings. No matter what kind of oasis it is, I know it has water, and I know that water is exactly what I need. In the unreality of gaming I find security and familiarity that I can bring back to the mainland, feelings of comfort and relaxation that occasionally fade from the reality’s own game. The miracle is that the trick always works, even if it takes until five in the morning.
This blog, and many, many more besides cross-posted from the N3rd Dimension.
