It’s easy to forget sometimes that the remedial discharge of iridescent lights emitted from computer games–to many reciprocal individuals–are simply obnoxious distractions with modest gradation from adolescence, encouraging verdant protraction of this errantly retained infantile behaviour despite exerted maturity. It’s mere extant in culture is omitted as simply a recreational activity satiated by teens with acne blemished skin or reclusive adults with forced, social hesitancy. These cogent beliefs and dubious assessments have no salient influence on how I conduct my reserved exemption from strenuous capitulations of work or other affiliated tedium’s, and likely have nominal impact on you, that girl over there, that guy peering suggestively over your shoulder. So it’s always interesting to observe individuals participating in these infantile diversions (Philistines). But you are reminded just how assimilated you are with gaming and how the triviality of motility is dependant on former experience and familiarity with the controls. It’s only when you see someone attempting to comprehend the basic functions that we can swiftly identify just how elaborate conventional manipulation is for newly introduced participation.
Watching my long time betrothed playing computer games–an often widowed participant in my reposed moments of freedom–is similar in affliction to stubbing your toe on the dining room table. It’s not the delayed paucity of trauma that you anticipate with inevitability, but one of regret. You begin to question the legitimacy of their conception into this world, adjudicating that they may actually be a forest animal that has strayed from their indigenous habitation. For instance, in a moment of proposed marital reconciliation, she decided to participate in a game called Tales Of Xillia. Of course the verbal exchange of commutative civility (me shouting aggressive profanities) has been altered to preserve my projected falsity that I have a nurtured tolerance towards others, and of course the names of the participants have been altered to protect the ignorant.
S: Where do I go?
Me: Through the door in front of you.
Me: By opening it!
S: How though?
Me: By pressing the X button.
S: Oh, OK…….It’s not working?
Me: Well you need to physically walk to the door, otherwise it won’t work!
Me: With the left stick!
S: Which one is that? This one!?
Me: No. That’s the right one. See you can tell because that one is on the right!
S: OK! No need to be patronising. I’ve never played this before.
Me: Look, I’m sorry. Just please, go through the door.
S: Now where do I go?
Me: I don’t know?!…….Explore.
S: Look how short that girls skirt is. And there is no way her boobs would be that big if she were that skinny.
Me: It’s an RPG. Everything is exaggerated. Does it really matter?
S: I guess not……..What’s an RPG?
Me: Never mind. Are you going to do something….what?! What are you doing?
S: I’m trying to hit this guy.
Me: You can’t do that!
S: That’s a bit silly. Why not?!
Me: I don’t know?! *begins weeping*
OK, this maybe an exaggerated portrayal the perceived events, as we quite often have mutually affable communication, and it’s certainly not reflective of our solidified rapport (love you sugar tits). But it does mildly highlight that simple volition such as the subtlety of movement is a complicated task initially, comparable to us more commonly frequented gamers negotiating far more vivacious button configurations. We have also become so embittered by years of cynical gaming, experiencing an extension of diminished story development, with a hesitation to experience further idle narration, replete with elongated protraction of decidedly antiquated personal progression, with irrelevant narrative tangents, condescending subtext with all the subtlety and charm of a Dan Brown novel. Not forgetting the obligatory duplicitous character whose honest virtues are difficult to distinguish, a commonality regurgitated so consistently in RPG’s, that its genuinely surprising to see someone enjoy the conferred persecutions. “I wonder what’s going to happen with him? He seems devious.” Oh you mean the lovable rogue that consolidates he’s introverted intent behind a guise of composed, extroverted compliance, before betraying his temporary accomplices and revealing his deceitful ways. Only to then deviate again and become fully complicit in the preservation of the world as he searches for redemptive reprieve from his prior, consensual treachery. Now lambasted by his scorned entourage, can the ends justify the means? Probably. But you honestly didn’t know that did you? You genuinely believed that this is viscerally dynamic plot?
But above the scrutiny of modern mythology, the cultural stagnation of gaming plots (which I have periodically mocked for years) and the disappointing ignorance of my girlfriend, the one unanimous discrepancy that I have taken from this is the comment that my gaming, reclusive better half verbalised; “Why can’t I hit him? “. And just like that *ping* and epiphany (because that is the sound an epiphany makes). Why can’t you proceed further down the corridor? Why can’t I open the cupboard and pilfer its virtual contents? Games by definition are mailable, but most of us are intuitively aware of the limitations. We can quickly ascertain which rooms are accessible and which environments are superfluous. We are naturally aware that gaming, irrespective of promised explorable worlds are fundamentally scripted experiences, and that we are incarcerated by transparent, reticulated barriers.
It took someone who doesn’t play computer games to highlight that even with 20 years of gaming, I’m still impeded by invisible walls. Perhaps we are just variations of a newb?
Can games exceed their current limitations? Or are imaginations just too difficult to simulate? Let me know your thoughts. Cheers.