The Perfect Escape of Video Games?

 

The Perfect Escape of Video Games?

Why did you say yes to that last shandy, oh why did you say yes to that last shandy? The kebab sounded like a wonderful idea at the time, but your mouth now resembles Phil Jupiter's underwear's inner lining. To top it off, you're trapped in a lava-filled dungeon, and your princess has been taken. Where did everything go so tragically wrong in your life?

I've got some bad news for you: it's a lot worse. It's not that you're hungover while playing Super Mario Brothers; rather, you spend your days "working" at a computer in a sterile office surrounded by drones. Is this your only way out? A Friday night binge drinking session in Clapham, tonsil tennis with a very questionable femme fatale, and bouncing about 8-bit levels with your enormous obese Italian plumber girth crushing the skulls of Goombas the next morning (she didn't come home with you).

Computer games began as a completely harmless activity. My cousins had a version of Pong that, although being a pain to connect to the television, was a lot of fun for ten minutes. It wasn't quite Wimbledon bouncing the ball around with the paddles. The 8-bit version of the AELTC's prestige tournament, which was one of the first games I played on the Master System, was what it was. The game still fascinates me, and with the addition of a career option, I can't help but feel like I'm on Centre Court. I couldn't play tennis for toffee, after all.

Games like Grand Theft Auto and Halo, which let you roam entire towns and indulge your wildest dreams while piping hordes of bad guys have taken escapism to new heights. If only there was a magazine on my desk right now with the word "hero" printed on it. And, while escapism is almost at its pinnacle (with the exception of virtual reality), it began in the 1980s and had just as big of an influence then as it does now.

Adult life hasn't changed all that much in the last thirty years. Despite various technological advancements ostensibly designed to make life easier, most of us still work from 9 to 5. Working long hours to line someone else's pockets only to return home absolutely fatigued at some unreasonable hour. Eat your food, turn on the television, and sleep. In a nutshell, I believe that life necessitates five distinct needs: achievement, leisure, emulation, competitiveness, and belonging. I'm sitting in a plain office right now, feeling uncomfortable, bored, and lonely, as if this is simply another day to pass on a road that seems to lead nowhere. I don't have any needs met, and I'd rather be at home playing video games.

The first step is to achieve success. Those who are successful and believe they are having a happy life can look back on a long list of accomplishments. Nothing surpasses a sense of accomplishment, whether it's progressing through the ranks at work, raising children, or jumping out of a plane. Video games provide an easy alternative for individuals who are missing out on such experiences, and their influence is nearly immediate. You're promptly rewarded with level progression and point accumulation in early arcade games like Pac-Man and Asteroids (sometimes to reach the feted leader board).

Games like Manic Miner became popular thanks to home entertainment systems like the ZX Spectrum. This rise also highlights the fact that these requirements do not only apply to adults, but also to youngsters.

A sense of accomplishment can be gained for children as they grow up by doing well in school, Physical Education, and being commended for good attendance, among other things. How often does anything like this happen? I used to feel more accomplished after completing a few levels of Sonic than I did anything else during the day when I was in primary school. Microsoft introduced the "Achievement" points system with the Xbox360 platform, which is dependent on unlocking hidden secrets or just completing levels. What were they thinking when they did this? We all enjoy receiving incentives, especially when they are obvious. This development, as superfluous as it was, adds another level of achievement to the previously existent subtle one.  

This leads me to my next "need," which is relaxation. Relaxation through separation, if you will. It's pointless for me to go home and play a computer game in which the protagonist is a Customer Service representative who spends the entire day answering phones and responding to emails. They believe it's best to eat lunch outside of the workplace during lunchtime so that your mind is diverted from work and you can relax. Video games work on the same principle as movies in that they may transport you away from your job, your home, and into something far more exciting. A good example is the aforementioned Super Mario Bros.

It is, in my opinion, the first true example of an ethereal environment where you can freely explore and discover hidden prizes. Games with hidden levels were available on earlier consoles and computers, but the graphics and memory available prior to 1985 couldn't handle anything on this scale. Add in a hero plot in which you must save a princess, and you have the complete package. I could go on and on about detachment, but the bottom line is that video games transport you to another world at the touch of a button, where you may easily forget about your real life.

As I previously stated, I was a terrible tennis player as a kid. Stefan Edberg was a tennis player who wasn't bad. Despite the fact that Wimbledon on the MS was licensed, no real players' names were used. But, my goodness, one of the characters looked exactly like the Swedish maestro. Role models are vital when you're growing up. That may seem self-evident, but how many children lack appropriate role models in their daily lives? We admire others and aspire to be like them. We see them do great things and aspire to do the same.

When we are unable to perform something, we can easily emulate our heroes by playing video games (especially sports titles). I played World Cup Italia 90 on the Mega Drive a lot more than I should have because it was the only way I could recreate the tournament. Emulation can even come down to a desire to be a spiky blue hedgehog defying an evil genius or an Italian plumber hero (who was also quite useless with the ladies).

Competition is followed by emulation. There's nothing quite like completing a game. After all that coding, you've still outperformed the CPU. Edberg, take that. It's also satisfying to demonstrate that you're the best at something, that you're superior to your peers. Because of the mediocrity of my work, I have few peers at work. Do I want to outperform them? The sensation is almost impenetrable. The human spirit thrives in a competitive environment. People improve by being constantly challenged, and successful people thrive on it.

Sometimes the rewards are obvious - a big trophy, a big raise - but other times they aren't. On all levels, video games provide competitiveness. Beat the computer, your friends, and the rest of the globe. When life throws you a curveball, video games provide a fun way to pass the time. Do you want a place to show your friends that you're better than they are? Hold a competition for Days of Thunder on the NES (not all were impressed... ). Multiplayer games have been around since the days of Pong, and video game tournaments have grown into their own multi-million dollar business. 

That gets me to my third argument, which is a sense of belonging. Which is better, Sega or Nintendo? If you're a retro gamer, that question alone is likely to pique your interest. Why? Because picking a console is more than simply picking a gadget to play with; it's also picking a group, a way of life that has to be superior to its opponent. Segregation affects both children and adults on a daily basis. I was fortunate in school because I had terrific friends with whom I remain in contact to this day. Others, on the other hand, were not so fortunate. It's only natural that when you enter the professional world, you want to work for a company where you feel at home. 

It's only natural in your personal life to desire to live somewhere in a home with people you care about and where you feel at home. Even before online gaming with its massive communities and friendships, merely stating whether you were a Mega Drive or SNES guy at the playground started a positive chat about Sonic or Mario. It wasn't just about the consoles; it was about who you were.