As best I can tell, this 2019 post was my last substantial report on the video games I’ve played. It’s been seven years, and my outlook on games hasn’t changed much. I still prefer inventive, moody, narrative- and puzzle-heavy games that capture the imagination. They represent self-contained stories that don’t require dozens of hours of investment to enjoy. Yet, I’m beginning to write this post while staring at an Xbox that has remained off for what might be months now.
Maybe that’s okay. The console wars aren’t everything. Video game accessibility has burgeoned remarkably. Many old games are available on mobile or Nintendo Switch, and some beautiful games are mobile-exclusive. I played Journey and the Monument Valley games on my iPad, Abzu on the Switch, and since that post in 2019, I finished Portal 2. It’s outstanding.
But here’s the thing: I don’t prioritize video games. They are the media I spend the least amount of time with. I haven’t completed a game in well over a year, and haven’t touched a proper video game (let’s exclude my daily puzzle routine) in a few months. I started Firewatch on my Xbox, and have only played two hours in total. I can’t even confidently say when I began playing it. I spent several hours on Donkey Kong Bananza after the Switch 2 launched, but it remains unfinished.
Despite all the rhetoric around video games when I was growing up, I’m starting to believe that my priorities for digital media should be reversed, that I should actually play more video games and watch less on YouTube. The games that invigorate me can contain incredible depth. They capture my imagination and challenge me with both their strategic design and their explorations of fascinating stories with difficult themes. Or, in the case of Donkey Kong, they’re a pure delight with fun puzzles sprinkled throughout that, if nothing else, test my physical dexterity on a controller as someone who wasn’t raised on that skillset.
This all came to mind because I’m considering how to fight against passivity in my daily routine. YouTube is optimized to capture my attention, though not necessarily my focus. It’s entertainment, and sometimes mindless entertainment is what I need, like an easy frozen meal. Other times, I need it like a pint of ice cream. Both are hard for me to reject because they’re so gosh darn good at that moment.
Pushing myself to choose other activities in the literal sense is one solution. I want to spend more time writing, I have my contract math work that requires my time, I enjoy practicing guitar, I need to work out and cook, and there are handfuls of other hobbies I’ve considered picking up that all need time and attention and energy.1 Every evening and every weekend, I’m considering how I’d theoretically prefer to spend my time on a more rewarding activity, then trying to nudge myself in that direction instead of taking a simpler, passive route.
Video games exist in a reasonable middle ground between creation and consumption. I am taking in the story, following the prompts, going along with what the game has me do, but they also require my actual attention and direct action to proceed. I am in the game making decisions, discovering and navigating its world in a way that requires more of my brain than watching a TV show or even reading a book.2
Plus, video games exist on a flexible spectrum depending on my mood or needs without living inside an algorithmic world that keeps me hooked. Journey is a beautiful game that carries you along, requiring few decisions and only a couple of hours of your time. Firewatch (so far) has more mechanics, but they’re straightforward. You walk around, use items, and then some freaky stuff happens in the story as the world takes shape. Portal games have an immediate overarching narrative and scaffolded puzzles that become increasingly complex as the story develops. Other industry standards that intrigue me, like the Half-Life games, have a “shoot ’em up” element that is ultimately unimportant compared to the sprawling, compelling stories they tell.
There’s choice among video games, but no algorithm. They build worlds that match or exceed heady television shows and movies that I love, but don’t (yet?) live on a streaming service that will push something new to me the moment I finish. Playing a video game is certainly a far cry from the recommendations on YouTube. They’re spiritually closer to books when considering selection and participation: one develops a taste for what they like, starts branching out to adjacent genres and styles, and (most of us) can’t effectively multitask while enjoying them. And, like every other form of media, video games run the gamut from weird and experimental, to mainstream, to fluff and filler. Reading is not inherently better than watching TV or playing a game because the content can vary so wildly.
Where does this leave me?
I’m finishing this post during our first nor’easter in Connecticut. It’s rainy and windy, and we’re hunkered down in our house for the weekend. I might play a video game. I might keep writing. I might read a book, or finish a TV show I started a while back. I’m not sure. But I want to make a choice, to at least fleetingly consider why I’m about to do something and then commit to it. And getting back to Firewatch is higher on the list than it was a week ago, while watching another compilation of funny clips on YouTube sounds far less appealing.
Discussing whether unfocused attention on activities is better or worse than focused non-attention might become a different post. ↩︎
I’m not ever sacrificing my reading habits for video games, and there’s a separate line of thought I’m choosing to avoid in this post about passively or actively reading a book. ↩︎