This professor once advised me on being a writer, and recommended a path he had taken to get a summer’s worth of classical literature education: “have a marathon.” The idea was to find a summer with little to do, and do nothing in your spare time but read. The list of books was, of course, inexhaustible, but of course included works like the Odyssey, Lolita, The Bible, etc.

Now imagine having a summer marathon of game education. Can you imagine taking it as seriously? Taking notes here and there, spending just enough time with each game as needed, and not getting too involved or lost in a particular game? Maybe, just maybe, it’s entirely possible. And you could really, truly learn something valuable from it.

But in the meantime, when you’re living and enjoying yourself, you’re having the “gaming experience” much like you’d be having the “college experience” when you’re outside of classes and studying. And while the act of gaming can be valuable in an academic or cognitive context, I’d rather focus on the experiential one. Because while there’s value in viewing the artistic merit of games, we can also learn a hell of a lot just by experiencing them, experiencing the gaming lifestyle. Even in a college-bound, academic life, there’s much about the college experience that can be much more valuable than a 15 page essay on controlling metaphors in fiction.

So, hey: let’s talk about that experience.

I think it’s safe to say that every quarter-life crisis I’ve had at this point (I’m almost 30; yikes) has involved my deeply imbedded gaming habit. Sometimes it was inspired by the annoyance of whomever I was dating at the time, but mostly (i.e. 95% of the time) it was me having issues with myself.

Whenever I had these phases, these “crises,” I felt I was incurable when it came to the problem. Even when I had class essays that could easily be written about gaming, I opted out as a means to become less involved with the hobby. Whenever I was single, I wouldn’t even touch a console, dreading the idea that gaming would make me less interesting to any potential candidates. If I got depressed, I worried I’d get too sad about myself if I played games.

Eventually, I of course wizened up and realized that games are pretty much the best thing ever, and that I absolutely love them and adore them to death and would have a million babies with them. I eventually learned all the productive resource management I was doing with these games, as well as becoming literate in semiotic domains and such. But most importantly, I learned to relax and just have fun with them. To stop worrying about it and see gaming as an extremely valuable way to spend my time.

I keep finding new ways to love games, new ways to connect with them. The other day I was playing Demon’s Souls, a game in which players mostly play separately but can leave notes on the ground to help other online players. I had so much fun with this — the valuable notes were very helpful, while other notes were beautifully rude (“jump off this cliff for treasure!”). Another day I was playing LostWinds, a beautiful, serene and smart puzzle/platformer, and I felt this very strong relationship to the designer of the puzzles, having all these pleasant “I see what you did there” moments when a puzzle made me think. And yet another day I was at a pub when I jumped on one of those tabletop Ms. Pacman games with a friend. Two people I knew to the left of us started getting in a fight about something silly, and we just smiled at each other, completely immersed in our game and its twitchy action.

It was beautiful. All these moments are. And it’s amazing that something so remarkably pure, something that can be a source of so much joy , could ever bring about regret.

Whatever your definition of education really is (the O.E.D. cites education as “training in a subject” and “an enlightening experience”), gaming sounds like an education for me.

Has anyone seen the film An Education? You should. It’s amazing. It also made me cry a little, think deeply about my relationships, and the way I live my life.

In other words, I have some thoughts that come straight from the cockles. So read more, friends. Read more.  (And bring wine.)

The film, in brief, is about a smart, beautiful young girl (Jenny) who kinda wants to study to go to Oxford, yet also kinda wants to be with a charming, older, cultured man named David. David, see, he watches foreign films. He also goes to jazz clubs, and understands classical music. He also has two friends that smoke and hold cigarettes in fashionable ways.

Now, without spoiling the film, I can tell you that it does much more than present some artificial oohh look, it’s the school of HARD KNOCKS, guys type of message. It’s much, much deeper than that. In fact, it doesn’t present any immediate bifurcation for Jenny. After all, both paths can seem silly and wasteful. Both can have meaning. But eventually, a choice has to be made. And at times it means everything.

What struck me most about the film was the use of and implications of the word ‘death.’ Practically everyone in the film feels or acts like they’re dying, or already dead. Especially Jenny’s father. He’s a frightened, education-focused person who genuinely wants the best for his daughter. He just doesn’t get it. And neither does Jenny, really. The whole “do what makes you happy” thing doesn’t really apply when it’s some penumbral ideal. It all just falls flat when everything changes, when everything you know is something else entirely.

It’s heartbreaking. I’ve met people like this. They’ve given up on taking the risks they need to really live. They regret, and live their regrets day-to-day. The film hides none of this.

I think it’s really, truly possible for people to get older, and just feel dead inside because they made “the wrong choice” with their education. Or at least uncomfortable about it. I mean, I know I’m not happy with the fact that I went to college for 8 years rather than four. But it was my life. And I got to experience it.

I was talking about college recently to a friend. One of those simple “yep, college” kind of conversations. And then, out of the blue, she got quiet and remarked (almost in a whisper), “I never went to college.” I wanted to give her a high five. It didn’t occur to me — not immediately, anyway — that it could be some sort of shamed thin, or a regret. I thought about it, and realized that maybe I wouldn’t feel so great if I never went. Like maybe I’d miss out on something. College, though, is of course one of those things that’s not for everybody, yet pushed on everybody as normal, essential even. (Come to think of it, Facebook membership is annoyingly now one of those things. Anyway.) I kind of had forgotten that this was a “thing” for some people.

If I’ve uncovered anything from this mess, it’s this: never live your life as a means to an end. The beautiful, ever-changing journey is all we have; our destination is death. Let’s think thoughtfully about what we want out of our time. An Education was moving to me because it was a perfect reminder of this. It taught me, once again, to try and try to not be afraid. To take the risks we need to find out what we need.

But what about video games? You ask, now drunk on wine. Isn’t that Austin’s raison d’être or something?

Well, That is, I suppose, how I spend my time. Let us see in the next post. Maybe I’ve been wasting time. Perhaps it’s all a frivolous, childish waste. Or perhaps (hopefully, hopefully) video games can teach us something genuine. Something that can move us.

Or maybe we’ll just have to dream.

but I am a God in my field.

What do I do? I observe things with calm fascination. I am a Critic, yes, but… I am also a Child. “How do you do it?” you patiently ask. I don’t even know. It’s like air. It just exists. The wonder of My fascinating critique just exists.

I’d like to explain some beauty to you, and then I’d like you to listen to that voice in your loins, stop being a coward, and pull forth (via vigorous clicking) the most articulate, true, and erotic Art on the internet.

First.

I am going to present to you the best song in existence. Pretentious right? Har har… NO! It is not, you philistine. It is but true. The best song in the world is “Always” by the brilliant, brilliant band Erasure. Familiar with them? No? Well, think Proust. Think Einstein. A song is as divine as God’s nectar. Where other music strikes nerves, Erasure is here to massage them. And to think — oh! — to think that this song has inspired and graced us with two succulent, golden gifts.

Click well, children:

The Best Music Video of All Time

“Always” by Erasure

A beautiful man. A Goddess. Rapture ensues. Can love bloom in the snow?

The Best Video Game of All Time

Robot Unicorn Attack

A Delightful yet powerful unicorn. Redefining reality, subverting evil.

Notice the patterns in my blogging as of late? Much like a dysfunctional music box, I wind up my writing enthusiasm with enthusiastic blogs — promising something good in the near future — but they’re more false starts that peter out than anything rhythmic or cohesive. And then… months pass by… and, yeah. It’s bad. I know.

This is because my writing is a little broken. But hey, it’s ok. It’s not that I’m no longer passionate about games — I am. I’m just in a very weird in-between state. I think about writing every day. Occasionally I’ll try and get freelancing work. Sporadically, I’ll work on a short story. Bimonthly, I’ll toy with writing a novel. Or glance at one of the pages. But that’s it.

So for now please think of my writing as something worthwhile that simply needs elbow-grease and maybe a good smack to get started again.

If you have been checking this empty, wordless site

in the past few weeks with nothing to read,

then thank you, thank you for your patience.

I now give you: actual blogs.

It’s a gamer’s dream. It’s a lover’s dream.

I wake up with my lovely wife on our day off.

Tea is poured, breakfast is enjoyed. Our hearts are warm and soft.

The day is cold and wet outside; we find solace in our warm, cozy living room. My wife slyly opens our game-drawer in the coffee table, pulling out a Wiimote and Nunchuck.

And then… this:

Oddly, I only have been deleting spam on one of my posts — Pure T & A. Yeah, be careful with those cheap puns in your blog post title. It ain’t worth the wit.

And yes, I realize that I’m attracting a cavalcade of hideous spam-bots by mentioning the title again, but I don’t care, I’m ready. I’ve been fighting robots conceptually for years.

Bring it on.

It felt terrific.

The first mistake.

I opened a beer, started a game of Burnout: Paradise, my mind blazing cheerfully faster than the game’s legendary speed…

gaining steadfast momentum…

… a never-failing smile on my face.

Next. There’s this mental sickness, too (isn’t there always?), as I’m feeling that I’ve neglected too many precious friendships in the past. Sure, it made sense to let certain friendships deteriorate at the time. I usually had other things going, as well as one or two key, crucial friends that I had to put much effort into to keep afloat. But of course, years later, bedridden old me is experiencing old friends popping up. Sometimes as mere mental detritus, other times in an intense dream that permeates my thoughts throughout the day.

Poor me, right? I mean, really, we all experience this. Some of our friends may be literally dead, others have moved away and married, never to be seen again, and still others are just hard to get a hold of. So it’s not like we can do too much about these friendships in the present, aside from wax nostalgic and… and… wait!

There is a solution (for me, at least). You see, In my weak state I managed to pick up my DS and check out, finally, the Etrian Odyssey series. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s quite a niche RPG for the hardcore only — a dungeon crawler of sorts with minimal saves allowed and a game design for the masochistic.

It’s not bad, if you’re into that sort of thing. But what appeals to me about the game is its bizarre faceless, blank feeling. Its cardboard story, its laconic characters. Usually I’m story-hungry when it comes to RPGs, but the gameplay in Etrian Odyssey seems to suffice, and besides, I can make up my own story:

I’ve christened my guild “Dead-Up” — a name for a merry band of travelers that were once my friends. Of course, with the word ‘dead’ being in there, it could sound very zombie-like, very negative. But to me, “Dead-up” sounds a lot more like “1up”, or even “cheer-up!” A happy revival of now-dead friendships that could only appear in the imagination.

Sound depressing? It is. But keep reading — it’s an interesting experiment. Now, I’ve named all the group members appropriately, as well. In example: an old friend of mine was very soothing, very healing to the soul. Inevitably, she became a healer in the Dead-Up guild, staying in the back lines and taking care of the rest of us when appropriate. Another friend, a charming musician, ended up in the troubadour job class. By playing songs for the group, he helped everyone move more quickly, and with more strength.

Now, the big question: is this healthy? I’m not so sure, but if anything it’s a little less teary-eyed, and more cheerfully distracting than looking at old, weatherworn photos.