Gaming: If only real life had restarts
Video games are an excellent escape from reality.
Where else can you shoot bad guys, drive 200 mph and partake in countless other activities rendered illegal by either federal law or the laws of physics and get away scot-free?
Games are great because you can die and come back to life in fewer than five seconds and be at the same age, location and level of fitness you were when you died. You can jump 10 times your height, or fall great distances without injury. If you screw up, you can restart from the last time you saved. If I could do that in real life, there would be no waiting outside at 2 a.m. because I forgot my keys. How much cooler could life get?
I recently attempted to merge with that beautiful world in which nothing is illegal and anything is possible. No, I did not lose touch with nongaming reality and jump off a building, go on a shooting spree, or steal a car and turn University Drive into NASCAR. I simply took up a friend’s challenge to play “Mario Kart.”
Being highly competitive, even in areas I have very little knowledge or skill in, I informed my buddy in no uncertain terms that I would thoroughly kill her. Being equally competitive and much more experienced in that particular game, she respectfully disagreed.
We sat on the starting line awaiting the green light. She revved her engine. I pushed some sort of button that I thought was supposed to rev my engine, but it actually just caused my vehicle to idle for five seconds and then take off, hitting every obstacle conceivable (mostly banana peels), spinning me around and leaving me completely disoriented.
By the time I figured out that I was going the wrong direction, she was on her third lap. By the time I learned how to turn myself around, slipping on a few more banana peels in the process, she was yet another lap ahead of me. She was crossing the finish line just as I managed to find my way around the track for the first time. So much for getting to gloat at her from atop the winner’s pedestal.
I figured if we just tried again, I would leave her in the dust, and I told her so. She once again informed me there was no way that would happen. I refused to believe her.
My friend had at least been kind enough to show me the proper way to rev my engine. I figured that was all I needed to win.
Once again, I was proven wrong. I managed to opt out of sitting on the starting line trying to figure out how to make my car go. I lasted a record-breaking 17 seconds before I hit a banana peel and got completely disoriented. Yet somehow, my friend still managed to win, finishing in less than half the time it took me.
After several more rounds with similar results, I decided to call it a night.
I realized most of my video game experiences had been like this one. In racing games, I always swerve around the road, running into walls and slipping over drop-offs while my opponents look like Indy 500 champions.
In shooting games, I put more holes in walls of the mazes than I do in the bodies of the enemies. Then I typically have my head blown up just as I’m about to get a decent shot at someone.
Rather than being a stress reliever by letting me enter a world where laws of physics do not apply, video games tend to add to my frustrations by adding more laws of physics to the existing ones. Example: Any gun will shoot in the direction opposite the one it is pointed in. Opponents’ bullets will find you even when they are not aiming at you.
I don’t understand gamers. What’s the deal with these people, anyway? Do they exist simply to stare at a screen all day and train their thumbs to move at lightning speed? Or did the Nintendo gods grant them the gift of overcoming the laws of physics, while they completely ignored me and left me to the music gods?
The next time I want to relieve stress, I’ll grab my mp3 player and go to the Wellness Center or just read a book. If I must alter reality, I’ll go write the great American fantasy novel. But I’ll leave the gunfights, daring 10-story leaps and NASCAR re-enactments to the hardcore gamers.
Columnists' opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of The Spectrum