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Games, of course, are not just lonely experiences. While I’m a fan of single-player games, and memories of my first games single player experience predominates (thank you, slow internet connection), social aspect the gameplay adds another dimension to our experiences and their memories. Whether it’s a live shooter competition (I have fond memories of the night Unreal Championship 2003 in a bedroom), a cooperative puzzle game, or just chatting with friends in a shared world for many miles, we delve deeper into the memories of the games by sharing them with others.
It’s something I’ve particularly appreciated over the last few years during the pandemic. Looking back on a year ago — through anxiety, uncertainty, and the fear of initial blockades — it’s a powerful, hopeful, and gratifying game memory.
I used to play once a week with my graduate school friends on the other side of the country, loud matches prevailed. Rocket League, He turned to the epic RPG Divinity: Original Sin 2. Luckily, working remotely safely and safely inside, we suddenly had more time than ever to play together. I thought a game would easily take us more than a year to fly.
In the game, we can be heroes (often confused and unintentionally dangerous citizens), controlling our destiny, saving the world and taking action. We had a whole world to study and learn history, to learn and perfect magic and fighting, and to talk to a lot of new characters. Time passed, visits were canceled, but we still had play sessions once a week.
Original sin 2 I will forever associate it in my memory with a tragic and deadly pandemic. Thinking will remind me that I am inside, learning about Rt values, worrying about my parents, telling them that my blessings are safe. But it will remind me of everything that constantly explodes in flames in the game world, making anyone laugh at the complete failure of my character in conversation conversations, turning enemies into unfortunate chickens, planning elaborate fighting tactics, and (eventually) succeeding.
Through the magic of a shared game, we can stay connected, far away from our tables and sofas but side by side with witchcraft. Games have always been a way to connect, and this has been highlighted in a pandemic, when physical distance is needed and social closeness is desired. Over time, there has been a clear advantage in being able to to feel not only while being alone safely. We can make good memories of dealing with a long storm.
Recently, my game escape has been reversed virtual reality. I thought I would spend years doing games in VR; it always seemed like the future. After spending almost all of his time inside, except for key things like grocery shopping, the revelation was to put on VR headphones. I was transported to an open world, the ceiling disappeared and I was replaced by a clear sky far away. I was no longer in my small living room, and my sense of new space immediately made me a believer in technology.
Once again, there is this strange imbalance of novel and pleasant experience with the horrors of the great situations of the world. And maybe nothing captures the privileges I have at this time. I will never forget my first (literal) steps to VR, as I will never forget why it suddenly became so appealing. Although VR is an escape, maybe it can be anything, it doesn’t erase other memories.
Rather, it weaves them in a new way. This memory doesn’t blur all the time spent during the pandemic, it doesn’t let you forget to try to pack it neatly. Instead it has given me unexpected joy in a dark time. The game helped me stay healthy and present, as seems like the complete antithesis of trying to get away with it. Games don’t forget me, they help me remember.
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