Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Advanced Programming
This past weekend I was riding on the train, as I am wont to do, and I ended up standing next to three college-aged gentlemen who were talking about videogames. Now my own knowledge of realities virtual extends only slightly beyond Duck Hunt and Castlevania, so most of what they were saying was completely nonsensical to me, like Jewel's poetry or the phrase "global struggle against extremism." But I was struck by their utter enthusiasm; they wanted to get into the warlock's secret tomb on Level 3 just as badly as some people want to get into the World Series or Jessica Alba's pants. And they happily discussed their Saturday evening plans: no homework, just hardcore gameplay! It seemed obvious to me that these boys would never touch a boob.
But then I realized that, in a way, they're better off than the rest of us. Because while we all struggle to develop actual human relationships with people who quite often merely intend to steal our Hummel Figurines to sell for drug money or feel us up and never call again, these kids have found nirvana with the Mutant Queen in the Forbidden Zone of Planet Garfu. She may be rust-colored and have tentacles, but she's programmed to respond when you hit the A and B buttons in the right sequence. And while we push ourselves to have "real" "accomplishments," people like my train friends are perfectly satisfied just to repeatedly beat each others' high scores by engaging in various forms of electronic homicide. It's not exactly writing Ulysses, but at least it's not writing Finnegan's Wake, either.
I think I need to go home and pop in Dr. Mario.
And no, I don't mean that in a dirty way.
This past weekend I was riding on the train, as I am wont to do, and I ended up standing next to three college-aged gentlemen who were talking about videogames. Now my own knowledge of realities virtual extends only slightly beyond Duck Hunt and Castlevania, so most of what they were saying was completely nonsensical to me, like Jewel's poetry or the phrase "global struggle against extremism." But I was struck by their utter enthusiasm; they wanted to get into the warlock's secret tomb on Level 3 just as badly as some people want to get into the World Series or Jessica Alba's pants. And they happily discussed their Saturday evening plans: no homework, just hardcore gameplay! It seemed obvious to me that these boys would never touch a boob.
But then I realized that, in a way, they're better off than the rest of us. Because while we all struggle to develop actual human relationships with people who quite often merely intend to steal our Hummel Figurines to sell for drug money or feel us up and never call again, these kids have found nirvana with the Mutant Queen in the Forbidden Zone of Planet Garfu. She may be rust-colored and have tentacles, but she's programmed to respond when you hit the A and B buttons in the right sequence. And while we push ourselves to have "real" "accomplishments," people like my train friends are perfectly satisfied just to repeatedly beat each others' high scores by engaging in various forms of electronic homicide. It's not exactly writing Ulysses, but at least it's not writing Finnegan's Wake, either.
I think I need to go home and pop in Dr. Mario.
And no, I don't mean that in a dirty way.
