Where players lick their wounds

Recently some acquaintances have scrutinised my gaming habits just to be let down by the non-existence thereof. As to the whys and wherefores of my lack of ludic endeavours, it all boils down to me maturing into an absolute bore. Be it for physical, psychological or ethical reasons, playing nowadays will seldom ever please me.

My poor spatial awareness has always rendered me at an absolute loss when it came to three-dimensional games. The plethora of 3D platformers, first-person shooters and even RPGs brought about by the rise of Sony and Microsoft in late 90s put me through a never-ending nightmare. Luckily enough, Gameboy and NeoGeo were also available.

Then I grew older and realised, as the meme goes, that our bodies are temples. Mine, however, is in ruins. Nearly chronic motion sickness and soft tissue rheumatic disorders have severed my ability to play games that have fast-paced animations or flashy colours. Those whose mechanics relies on motor coordination are also a no-go for me.

Some other of my issues with gaming stems from the time restrictions most of the working-class faces. There are far too many hobbies I hold dearly and prioritise over gaming: reading; actively listening to music; watching cinema, series or animations; writing, meeting friends. Even doing some chores feels more rewarding than playing.

Nowadays, clean clothes, shining cutlery, fresh bedsheets and dust-free rooms certainly pleases me more than knowing I beat a machine, defeated a thirteen-year-old online, or obtained whatever virtual achievement I might be granted within those games. Again, that’s only because playing is often the least of my entertainment priorities.

Another thing that bothers me is… Think ducks. They can walk, swim, and fly, but they don’t really excel at neither. For me, games are like ducks, in that they are a multidimensional medium: there are visual, narrative and interactive aspects to them. But what’s the use, when none of those are as well-developed as within other media?

Besides, the way so many games are productivity-driven feels discouraging to me. There are goals to accomplish, roles to fulfil, ranks to attain, procedures to follow so we can succeed. It doesn’t help that numerous gaming communities seem dedicated to playing them with efficiency and efficacy. Talk about self-micromanagement!

That ethos is not unique to the gaming world. There is a regrettably rising amount of people taking pride in their binge-watching, binge-reading habits. But I’m speaking for myself, and that doesn’t happen to me. However, when I’m playing, I don’t feel carefree or at leisure; I feel burdened. Most games feel to me like a labouring activity.

Labour is common to artistic undertakings, like writing. My issue with gaming is that there’s not much room for me to practise creativity or self-expression. It feels I’m a passive art consumer, as is the case with reading or watching TV, but rather than enjoying myself, I’m going through the physical and mental distress involved in any work.

The work involved in physical exercises keeps me healthy. My daily job keeps my subsistence. Playing, however, won’t make me any richer or healthier. It rarely ever makes me happy, nowadays. I can’t really play anything with wild mechanics, I don’t have much time, I can’t relax, and I like other media better. So, I thought to myself: why bother?

Sure, every now and again there is an exception to that rule. I’m still quite picky about what I ever play, and I mostly end up not playing anything. However, don’t get me wrong: games are a respectable artistic medium. I’m just acknowledging the personal limitations that keep me from enjoying it as much as I do with other media.