Coming Of Age In The Video Game Era

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I’m confused.  I’ve been playing video games for longer than I can remember and while the technology of the consoles continues to improve, it seems to me that the quality of most of the games released today lags behind the potential of that technology.  Is it economics holding manufacturers back—that the cost to create a fully engaging game are now so high, and profit margins so thin, that it’s not worth the investment?  Or maybe I’ve grown up and am not satisfied with what I once spent hours playing?  Is there a middle ground that I have not considered yet? Maybe it’s me, though I do not know anymore because I have grown up. When I look in the mirror I do not recognize the person that I see. I don’t recognize the games that I used to play. I want more. And at the same time I want to be surprised. But I want to feel safe and secure. But I can’t be surprised without feeling fear. And I cannot feel fear if I am safe and secure. It has become all too apparent that a game is just that. It is just something on the television.

And I keep playing and I hope and I wait for something exciting and I am still waiting. But then something happens as I play. I see through the game and I see through the television and I see the light reflected on it. And I see everything behind me. And I see the world behind the television and it’s more interesting than the television or the game itself. But I carry the games I played with me. In the things that they taught me and in memories of the experiences that they provided me that I could have never had in the real world. But now I am in the real world and I am wishing that I had a grenade launcher. And I am talking with someone who I disagree with and I am wishing that I could uppercut them. And my mind just goes blank and I think of a world where I can shoot fire from my hands. And it is amazing. So I go back to the TV and the video game and I am wishing that I could inject the controller into my veins. I’m wishing I could be hard wired into the floor beneath my feet. I’m wishing that my couch would come with buttons. And I am wishing that the television could recognize my voice. And then I sigh, knowing that someday, this will all be possible.

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Michelangelo Pereira

Michelangelo Pereira