Dimension Breach
Click to viewThis brings me to a time where things were much simpler.
A time when I would go back to a house where people were actually living. A place I was truly excited to return to, sitting next to my sister and brother as I watched them play, waiting for them after school before I turn on the console because they'd hate to miss out on the story of my game, arguing over how 'your-2-hours-are-spent-now-go-find-a-frigging-save-point-you-retard' ---this turning to anger, anger turning to rage, then fighting ensues, then back to the game, pause, reset, can you re-load that part with that awesome movie again, remember that using a walk through brings shame to the family, HEAL, goddamit defend, can you help me solve this puzzle, game over. Save.
In a way no classical painting, however magnificent and awe inspiring, or no novel however indulging and heralded has done, video games have brought me and my siblings closer. The victory of one, is the victory of all. The loss of a beloved character is a tragedy the three of us would mourn.
And in this cliched moment lived by probably every single person in the world, throughout every alternate universe and timeline... I find myself having an epiphany... of looking behind my back and seeing a roughly sketched picture of me on the couch sitting next to my brother and his home-made salad as we watch our sister slay wave after wave of enemies, cursing at every hit, laughing manically at every triumph. It's a memory, the elixir we held so precious thinking we'll use it for more important battles only to end up not using it at all. A safe place. A refuge, an unreachable one. A promise, one made knowing it would be broken. A well of hope that keeps us going.
I know what I'll find now if I take a glance behind my back, just as I can picture the silhouette of the house in my head, demarcated by white lines marking every room, I know exactly what is in them even without bothering to leave my station here in the living room: nothing.
"Go back for the game room."
But... without them it's just that, a game room.
I've been playing less and less lately and at this point I reckon I will never play again, at least not as I did before. The victories don't taste as savory as they did then, never as fulfilling as I remember them to be and as much as I want to conclude that the quality of the games have degraded since then, I'm pretty sure it's not that.
[edited]
It takes a single track from one of our games (Chrono Cross) to bring out all these beautiful memories, a carnival of emotions enough to make one bawl and despair and smile and look forward to tomorrow.
And it takes one more to fill that gaping hole with the courage to hope again, to rise up and continue the crusade.