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.

(With beer, I should add. And to the sounds of Jacques Brel.)

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.

Now that all the rubbish media onslaught is mostly over, we can all relax and enjoy Michael Jackson’s work, and carefully pick out worthwhile links with tweezers. I’ve always enjoyed his bizarre connection to gaming, and the questions that arise from it: does he play to feel more like a child, or does he truly love games for the games themselves?

• Pinorama – Michael Jackson Arcade, Entryway

Visit (in a panoramic view!) Michael Jackson’s sterile, lonely-looking collection of arcade machines and assorted memorabilia.

• R.I.P.: Jackson’s Unspoken Gaming Legacy via 1up

Jeremy Parish writes beautifully on the topic of Michael Jackson’s influence on gaming, and gaming culture in the 80’s.

• New Michael Jackson Game in The Work via Kotaku

This was actually being worked on before the star’s death, which means it might be OK. Here’s hoping for a Moonwalker remake.

And then the headache.

Abstractions are weird and painful, but they’re also beautiful. Problem is, people would rather block them out. It’s far much easier to just take a step across the street rather than considering some flux or infinite regress or theoretical change in gravity to prevent you from doing so. And it’s this kind of easygoing nature that prevented millions, including myself, from ever completing the game Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask.

Majora’s Mask is weird in that it seems like it’s not a Zelda game. It seems entirely abstract, unlike any Zelda game before it. It has the least linearity of the series, it’s character-based (not exactly a staple), and it repeats the same three days over, and over, and over. Oh, and it’s also extremely macabre and depressing: an evil-looking black moon inches towards you and other townsfolk, and the people seem well-aware of their existential worthlessness, their impending death. Look-see… it’s not quite cute:

Zelda games have the precedent of Linear Adventure in Which Forest Elf Saves Princess. And then there’s Majora’s Mask, in which you begin looking for a friend (let’s assume Navi), and get distracted. No princess. THEN you’re placed in a loop of a world with little to go on, and with the controls entirely, literally, in your hands. And, it’s kind of horrifying. At first. (Only at first.)

And this is why Majora’s Mask wasn’t a hit, although it should have been. It’s why I didn’t play it back in 2000, and watched my friend Brandon play through my purchased copy instead. I didn’t even care, at that point. I hardly even watched him play, because thinking of trying to understand what was happening (the abstraction) was too much for me.

There’s something a little more unsettling about a video game straying from its roots than a film or novel or television show doing so. It’s a little more unnerving (and in this case, creepy) because we feel, quite clearly, not in control. Gamers are a sort of specialized control freak whether they admit it or not, carefully tweaking the world in which they’ve been placed. And they’re changing it for the better: equipment gets upgraded, characters “gain levels” (whatever that means), and cute little Pokemans get caught-did. And, yeah, Majora’s Mask seems to puts a damper on that progression. Those rupees and arrows and bombs you just collected? They’re gone after the in-game three days. One would assume that the dungeons, as well, need to be completed again and again to get that bow, again. Get that hookshot, again, just to get a piece of heart you missed.

But no, no. It’s not like that.

Playing it now in ‘09 I get a feeling that it’s almost too Zelda-y. I mean, I love it, but I thought I gave up on this title for a reason in the past. I expected to have a love/hate relationship with it; I expected a bizarre experience full of stress and painful time limits. But the game allows for a pretty simple, tolerable Zelda experience early on. You can slow time, for one, but most importantly, all your items stick with you expect for the petty ones (the aforementioned rupees, even, can be saved in a time-defying bank, meaning only your petty bombs and arrows are what you have to retrieve again).

So. Majora’s Mask? Not so abstract. Pretty normal in game mechanics… just utterly strange thematically, with a lot more content than usual as far as characters and abilities. It’s kind of weird to find I’m playing a “Zelda” game rather than a “non-Zelda” game, what with all the hype that it was some horrible altered experience. rather, it feels like the best of the franchise quite clearly. It’s full of heart, too — there’s a real purpose as you help people whom you’ve seen struggle and mourn their death.

I haven’t finished it yet, but so far it’s a damn good black sheep. If you’d like to join a ridiculously intelligent play-through discussion, check out the Vintage Game Club that Brainy Gamer is hosting. It’s quite good! The people there are very unique and thoughtful and weird.

And oh hey — I just described the game: unique, thoughtful, weird.

This is good.

But hey — I used to love me some E3. Y’know, back in the days of The Wizard.

And I know some people that currently like E3. And it is, by all accounts, the most likely place for new games to be announced. And that’s exciting and stuff. But honestly, who would actually want to be there? Who would want to experience the corporate nerd-filth? Kids, I guess. Or maybe adults with a predilection for loud, obnoxious gaming. Or maybe you. And that’s fine… I just don’t get it.

Take a look at the following booth-babe photo, will you?

IGN had the following to say about this image: “Too much…to process…brain melting…*head explodes!*” Really? Is this head-blowingly hot to the gaming population? Outside of monster truck rallies and comic conventions, apparently there are not enough places to see pseudo tans, pseudo smiles, and pseudo breasts. But hey, these girls might pretend they like the games they’re suggestively standing around, so… that’s a plus? I get it: Booth babes + swag = sales; but the equation is too cheap and dirty for such a passionate community.

You can almost smell it.

E3 is all about coin. And I guess it works in its own trashy way. But I can’t help but wish for a more cultured and less bombastic E3. After all, other media gatherings seem to have it down. Film festivals like Sundance have a more gentle feel and approach, as well as a respect for audiences over the age of 12. Literature festivals like Wordstock are also Actually Suitable for Adults. These festivals manage to be engaging, rewarding, and yet somehow not really disgusting. See? It’s possible!

E3 did try a toned-down, minimal presentation in 2008, only allowing “industry professionals”. But Small E3 wasn’t better, it was just more minimal. It was still gross. There was still crappy swag, still booth babes, and plenty of noise-competitions from varying stages.

Maybe it’s just a sign of our times. After all, the major 360 and PS3 games at E3 are continually typical and cliched action/horror/FPS nonsense made for testosterone-fueled violence-obsessive gamers. Games with little artistic range or expressiveness in color, leaving us with empty browns and dull grays. Aside from spatters of cartoon-red blood, I saw little green, little blue, little orange, little life. I suppose the convention just mirrors the games, and vice versa.

Not that these kind of games are bad, per se. I’ll likely play at least Uncharted 2 or Alan Wake, and happily. But isn’t anyone bored of all this sameness? Imagine going to the new releases section on Netflix or a movie store and seeing nothing but Vin Diesel flicks and Saw sequels.

Granted, Nintendo wasn’t perfect in its showcasing, either; their decision to cater to the young, young crowd (and to feature Cammie Dunaway as a host) didn’t help them one bit: the thing came off feeling like a 6th-grade magazine drive promotion. Yet the new Mario titles were, at least, a treat for the imagination (and look! Color!).

I’m well aware that there are gaming conventions and such that are (slightly more) thoughtful than E3, but E3 is the big one, the one that’s indicative of the industry. And if that’s the case, than the industry is akin to a pimple-covered 14-year-old with Pepsi in one hand, pizza in the other, and a selfish void of a glare that says GAMES BOOBS ACTION.

Postscript:

Did you know that I have a twitter these days? Yup.

Pimp, pimp.

Kids are saying it’s pretty hot shit, this twitter.

Wink, wink.

Ooh! And RSS feeds! Great for checking up on nascent gaming sites.

Whore, whore.

This is the message I gleaned after listening to the latest episode in Robert Ashley’s impressive podcast series titled “A Life Well Wasted”. I normally podcast-it on a commute, but the message within the podcast was so rich and fascinating that I listened in an unprecedented way: indoors, at home, and with a cup of tea. And afterwords, I couldn’t help but feel good about my gaming habit, and the weird little quest that it continually takes me on.

The episode (simply entitled “Why Game?”) begins with Ashley asking people attending the Game Developers Conference why they game. It’s quite a simple and meaningful question, really. But… wait. Why do people game?

The podcast itself focuses on deep interviews with fascinating people. I won’t go into those here, because really, you should just listen to it, but know that you can expect varied and deep discussion. Particularly interesting is an innovative artistic developer (Jason Rohrer) that lives completely sustainably. That, and the fact that I heard about Elimination Communication from both my wife’s blog and a gaming podcast blows my mind.

The first, brief segment of the podcast focuses on the “why game” question, and the answers are all over the place:

“Because it’s fun.”

“It’s an escape.”

“Helps to get away from the day-to-day monotony of the horror of existence.”

But then, the answers get more hopeful. People talk about being “ambiently displaced”, and speak of the “therapeutic” qualities of games.

I’m not sure what any of you think, but I’m definitely in the hopeful category. If Ken Levine is correct, that video games are a “convergence of everything”, then I want in. I want to stick myself plum in the center of another’s artistic vision, letting the “everything” surround me. I want to become enraptured by someone’s art. It’ll be like “The Nothing” in The Neverending Story. But, y’know, the opposite. See? The power of video games — it’s monumental.

Games are ridiculously entertaining, to be sure. They’re also a fine escape. But they’re also a philosophical quest, a way to immerse oneself into another person’s ideas. There’s a certain empathy one can ascertain from being another character in a game, something not too far from the techniques learned in method acting. And with that empathy, it’s not a bad way to open the door into other people’s worlds, and figure out what exactly we’re all doing here.

Of course, I can see how the association of the words ‘philosophical’ and ‘games’ may sound absurd to many. The nature of many games is a fast-paced, immature, and clumsy one. But not always. Your beloved, artistic Bukowski novel Ham on Rye isn’t far from Rockstar’s sandbox game Bully, and the graceful pick-up-and-play Flower has an intimacy and zen-like depth that’s quite close to Monet’s waterlilies. And that’s just the surface of comparisons.

These are all little things, part of a large, often-convoluted world of ideas and thoughts in games. It may not always make sense, the artistic vision may not always be clear (or even artistically interesting, for that matter), but games are more than time-wasting escapism — they’re also a unique philosophical quest, an journey into characters, and, yes, naysayers — they’re an art form.

Thanks to Robert Ashley, and to the legions of gamers and thinkers that helped me see that all games — even, shiiit, Pacman — exist on levels other than simple cheap entertainment.

The Gobliiins series attributes dream-logic to its puzzling.

But there is hope, dear friends! For any of you that enjoy casually sniffing about environments, clicking here or there, trying to solve puzzles, and then panicking and ripping your hair out in frustration, then there are developers in France that care about making quality games for you.

The game is Gobliiins 4, and it’s quite brilliant. Really the only problem with the thing is that the 3D graphics are mediocre at times. Pierre Gilhodes, a series creator, makes seriously beautiful handdrawn comic-style artwork, and it’s hard to see his vision translated to poor 3D rather than rich, detailed spritework. But it’s OK! I still love the game.

Oh, and do read my review.