Christmas, you infernal festive impediment, we really need to talk. Now I like you, always have. That isn’t going to change. I’ve always enjoyed your childish exuberance, your garish, overstated presence even if your innocent platitudes are often saturated by commercialism and increasingly celebrated prematurely as a burgeoning impotent affair. I enjoy watching the Father Ted Christmas special, gauging myself on yuletide goodies and I especially adore how I can use Santa Clause annual generosity as an incentive for my daughter to behave. Christmas is a very useful commodity, but do you have to take up so much of my time? Your incessant presence over such a prolonged and unnecessary preamble has severely encumbered my ability to play games in any substantial capacity.
Red Dead Redemption 2, arguably my favourite game of the year has remained largely forlorn. Its considerable expanses have remained unexplored, Arthur Morgans guns have been confined to there now underused holsters. Trouble being is that Christmas, even during spare time demands significant considerations. Preparations have to be made, Christmas trees have to be decorated, presents conceived and then purchased with money I don’t have. My partner and I then have to work additional hours to afford the costly goods and sundries that for the rest of the year would be considered frivolous expenses. We have to write Christmas cards to family members, both superfluous and prominent. Send ones to friends, colleagues, neighbours, strangers, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers.
Even if I’m lucky enough to wrangle 5 minutes away from festive exertions and domestic obligations, I’m usually so tired that I full asleep in the middle of games! Often waking from my stupor to see Arthur Morgan stood at camp nursing wounds from a failed mission I nodded off in, silently judging my idleness as a slight against him and his band of merry men. So please Christmas, take heed. Lessen your influence in the months before. Inform supermarkets that stocking up on Mince Pies and Christmas puddings really isn’t a necessity in September. That it’s okay not to market the birth of a fictional baby as a way of passively enforcing people to buy expensive thrift you don’t really need for one another just because society dictates that you should. Diminish the overall pageantry and stress of Christmas and allow people to enjoy the flamboyant spectacle in a way they feels most comfortable. Like celebrating the day by gauging myself on booze and food, dozing on the sofa and being left alone for the entire build up to Christmas to play games. Perhaps next year.