I’ve primarily found myself sitting in one of a handful of rooms, passing the hours by mindlessly letting the time pass.
It is 2 AM in a dark bedroom, in a home that isn’t mine. For the first time in my life, I am experiencing a videogame.
Dantooine is warm around this time of year. On the warmer months, Jedi often train out in the field, surrounded by nature.
At some point, I stopped playing games just for myself.
Games with tight design and effective stories are easy to love, for exactly the right reasons. But I also like bad games.
Are relationships better for the struggles?
Somehow, I return to the five or so play experiences I can pick up, loop a few times, and then put down.
It feels like there’s a strict script one must follow: Games must be played to arbitrary standards.
Clients sit and talk to me about their lives, and I make mild observations or comments as I see fit. Amidst our chatter, I mix drinks.
As much as games are a silly entertainment, they’re also bigger than that.
Life is painfully complex.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time feeling bad about myself. It wasn’t anything terribly traumatic, but a likely common story for the nerdier folks going through life. For me, I’ve always been a little bit on the smaller side, I wore glasses from a young age, I liked Japanese cartoons and…