I’m the worst kind of online gamer, mutually abhorred by even my own allies that has only been exacerbated by my ventures into Bioshock 2, with only attritional contributions and subsequently only marginal impact. I’m that transient interloper that impedes progression, standing idle in the most centralised area for optimal exposure. The guy that generates mutual contempt, receiving verbal degradations that only encourages further nonchalance. Interlacing intertwined innocuity, interspersed with interlocking inactivity. Yes I am as convoluted as this sentence and invariably the archetypal fly in your ointment. But I don’t know why? There’s no cognitive functionality, no premeditated resentment for my interim confederates and no deliberately concerted effort to sabotage their endeavours. There are singular occurrences that entreat me to disrupt the rhythmic congenitally of the team and would be assailants, such as players with more skill than that feel inclined to do everything themselves. The pragmatic solidarity demonstrated by my provisional confederates, inclined to achieve the best result possible never motivates me the way it should beyond extraneous cajoling. When I’m in an environment that encourages active hostility I shy away from it as if indulging my own obscure protestations against the bureaucratic conformity of competitive online gaming. It doesn’t make sense, I realise that. Yet somehow I derive some sickathantic gratification from my reluctances. I do deploy adept ingenuity into my elusions however, devising ever clever yet aggravating methods of evasion, such as concealing myself behind partial walls and partitions with obscuring visibility. Standing idly appeared to trick some potential enemies into thinking that my inactivity was somehow dangerous. Even shadowing the opposition is surprisingly effective in deterring would be aggressors into thinking I was part of their team?!
This preferential and much more sporadic participation, contributing when inclination motivates me has become an indelible pursuit. Sometimes I’m encouraged by others prodigious progressions, someone that elevates my admittedly modest skills to a proportionate rigour that I employ into my endeavours, slowly gaining momentum. Often-times it just takes me time to find a rhythm. I’m like a metallic implement that steadily generates heat from the absorption of a hot substance, like a spoon in a coffee cup. But more often than not the robust dominance of a collaborator just aggravates me further with the simple and customary objective of any online game: winning! I could be sparring with the best of them one minute, then concealing myself behind crates the next. The expectant fervour of killing anonymous individual’s I’ll never meet is blighted by my frivolity as well as the enervating fatigue of doing the same thing over and over again, so I derive more enjoyment routed and diverted by other prosaic means. For instance protracted games of hide and seek that not everyone is consciously privy too. Leap frog is a recreational activity regularly occurring during my Bioshock 2 playthrough’s, which is essentially me jumping around opponents like Tigger in heat. I can’t express how much fun I had crouching through levels, particularly amusing to receive barbed verbal scalding from teenagers professing how they have all satisfied their carnal desires by banging my mother (she does get around it seems?). Yet again, I have to ask why?! Why do I continue to torture my team mates with monotonous pageantries? Why does this desire endure despite its clearly regressive sentiment? Boredom I suppose is a negligible influence and my moderate skills could be contributing factor, yet it could also be something much more innate. Or perhaps I’m just a selfish git with nothing better to do with my time. Tomato tomato (that really doesn’t translate that we’ll).