Cheers to you, sailor.

Thanks for the articles (particularly the Dungeons and Dragons piece – quite the eye opener for a Brit such as myself) and all the best for the future.

I understand your burnout, and have seen it in others. Time was I played games a lot, and would buy up more games to play at some point. But really, nowadays about all my video gaming is done when I’m socializing with friends – fighting games, wii sports, mario kart, or stuff at the arcade – with the periodic title I actually want to play by myself, at home. Those almost always tend to be short gaming bursts, arcade style games I can play for a bit and then do other things. For someone who enjoys games as much as I do, I don’t play a whole lot of them anymore; I think I spend more time keeping up with gaming culture than actually doing it. And if I move out of the immediate area in search of work, how much gaming will I end up doing period?

Do I feel burned out? Not really. There’s just other things I want to do more, other things to write about, to watch, to read, to experience. People to meet and hang around with. If gaming as a hobby rather than something that feels like work fits you, then that’s a setup worth going for.

As for SF4, I thought it was a fun game, and I like the attention it’s brought to the fighting game scene as a whole. That said it’s kind of slow paced, and I prefer SF2 or King of Fighters to it (to say nothing of Tatsunoko vs Capcom, one of the most fun games to play or watch I’ve tried).

Can you see the inverse of that? It’s the the closest thing I can think of for where I’m currently at right now. I’ve not yet reached a specific phase in life where games have exhausted me or worn me down (in fact it just keeps increasing in obsessive drive), I just begin to perceive them in entirely different ways for myself. Actually, my universal screename can be the representation of that, I’ve just not had a “fourth phase” yet. I don’t really know if that will happen or if it ever will (or even if I’m in it now), but I don’t see much use staring that far down the road.

I remember you telling me about your dad’s dementia. I find things like that interesting for a lot of reasons, but for the sake of what you spoke of in this post I like that you kind of positioned it next to your own hollowed-out love. It actually kind of reminds me of Leigh’s post [http://sexyvideogameland.blogspot.com/2009/07/come-out-and-play.html]
and how people need to have other outlets or clearly defined passions to offset what they really need games (or any medium for that matter) to be for them.

It is nice to systematically desert the net for nights and weekends, as it refuels my own desire to quench other passions. That definitely has a lot to do with this kind of thing in my own world view. It’s why I refuse to buy things like a phone and such. I’ve even learned that my laptop can be a truly fascinating thing when I yank the damn Ethernet cable out of it. For all my weekly updates on a gaming blog, I’ve yet to buy a new title since Metal Gear Solid 4 and I don’t see that changing in the near future.

Though it’s probably hardest on you and your family, I’m honestly kind of jealous of your dad’s state of mind.

P.S. I’d love to read Alex’s HI game blog. He’s right, nobody else is going to write a blog about a sitcom game, and I’d love to see it.

_sLs

I’m taking us doubly off-topic, but what do you think of BlazBlue?

As for the toy thing, if people don’t know then too bad for them. In September Michael Lau comes to LA and I might finally get a chance to meet my art hero. You should make the trip.

I got up and down three or four times in the night, each time about to delete this whole thing. I kept thinking, this whole thing sounds pretty sour-grapes, and I don’t think I’m hitting the points I wanted to. I kept thinking, What’s the worst that can happen if this stays? What’s the worst if I take it down? But I’m glad it stayed, because I’ve heard from three of my favorite people, and the worst that could’ve happened would have been not hearing from you!

But you asked me a direct question, or three of them. First: Of course it was a dream of mine! Most readers would like to be writers, probably. The job, if that’s what you are really asking about, is complicated to talk about because it’s so conflated with geography. SF is seven square miles; many of its occupants work in technology or in print; it’s far from Chicago and Texas and two hours behind both (and three hours behind EST, aka “Real-World Time”). It’s hard to connect with people or check on your parents there, and I don’t completely understand why. But it gets worse: for me, SF was full of old friends and—because it’s so close to my birthplace—tons of family. I never saw those people, ever (it didn’t help that my car was stolen soon after I moved to Chinatown). When I was about to move to SF, though, things felt so right, not good but like they were falling into place and making some sense, and even though I didn’t really want to go out there, I hoped I would learn to not be so fearful. I decided that I couldn’t live life not knowing what my dream contained, so I packed up, albeit reluctantly. It seemed, to some friends, like I’d moved abruptly: I didn’t tell anyone I was moving away for fear I’d change my mind and then look stupid. And for the first few months, I continued to rent my apartment in Chicago in case I changed my mind. (Not telling people things really pisses them off, I’ve learned, so I signed up for Facebook and, this time, made a real racket about moving.)

Next you asked, “What was it like to achieve that?” I didn’t achieve it, actually. If anything I wrote more in Chicago—and about a lot of different things—and I was extremely satisfied because I was doing other things, too. Later, a lot of people wondered, “What do you do?” and I had a lot of trouble answering that. Maybe worst of all, I realized I wanted to be an essayist, not a critic (well, or worst-er still, I was neither, and I think I’m really starting to sound like a total douchebag). Because there is such a difference between “What did you think?” and “But was it any good?” And that problem isn’t limited to me: it’s something our little hobbyist industry still needs to sort out for itself.

Lastly, you wondered what made games “sour” after awhile, and here it’s difficult to separate feelings and reasons, and I also wonder whether you mean “video games” or “writing/not writing.” Which do you mean? No, I can’t tell the difference either, anymore; they’ve so stupidly seeped into each other. I’m going to reply to Luana next, or in a little while anyway, because even though it’s all the sort of thing best left to email, I think I’ll be able to answer your question better if I am helped along by her observations.

I didn’t understand the appeal of Street Fighter IV, either. Hell, I can’t understand the appeal of most of these fighting games, or most role-playing games or shooters.

*Okay, there’s one exception to this – I discovered there’s a Home Improvement (yes, the 90s sitcom) game the other day, and I don’t feel that I will be sated until I write something about it, primarily because no one else will.

I have six almost-finished posts in .txt format, just needing some closure and for me to log in and throw them up, but the thought of actually doing it makes me want to throw up. I knew why of course, but I didn’t want to verbalize it for fear of accepting it. At some point, three or four years ago, I stopped defining myself as a gamer and began to explore those other parts of me I was afraid to confront.

I’m sure many feminists would shudder at the thought—a young woman marking the turning point in her life with the discovery of “the right man”—but it’s true. For me, games were an escape, writing about them even more so. I needed a way to stop thinking about the life I was locked into, and the only way I could find people that understood was online, in this electronic subculture. The more I had someone with me to actually converse with that understood me at the basest of levels, the less I needed that affirmation from the outside. It’s not a completely healthy thing (I’m pretty much a hermit now), but I own myself more than I ever had.

I play more games now than I have since 2005. However, it’s a family experience—we have one game that we all play together and we talk about it. We don’t do it to keep up with the Joneses, or gorge ourselves on games that we may never touch. This digital consumption was killing me. I guess that, like the 24-hour-news situation on television, the constant barrage of information about games wears on me. It takes its toll. I turn off my phone for weeks and put down the computer. Full stop. It feels nice. It is nice. (See hermit statement above.)

... so yes.

I get the “burn out” several times a month now, with most things in life, so I can follow what you’re saying here. I tend to stop and ask myself if this is all I can do, and if I’ve seen everything. When that happens, I’ll see something cool, or hear something funny, or play something genuinely new, or tacitly work our a martial arts technique, and I’ll laugh for about ten minutes.

People think I’m insane. I liken it to the kind of relief someone with a bomb strapped to his chest experiences when the red wire gets cut at the single digits and the display goes dark. “I’m saved for another day,” I think to myself.

Would you say that writing about games professionally was a dream for you? If so, what was it like to achieve one of your professional dreams? If not, do you think that’s what made it sour after awhile?

On a final note, I need boardgame recommendations, since you brought it up. I’m trying to organize a game night at work. I need something really geeky but amusing that people with a few beers in them can still play coherently. Any ideas?

Welcome back, even if it’s not regular.