Play, Player, Play
In video games, as in life, I’ve lost more times than I’ve won. I am by no means a skilled player in either arena, and when the chips are down, I tend to accept defeat as unavoidable. It’s easier that way. And on the broad scale, it makes sense. For every action, there is a reaction, right? Every time a CoD player gets a kill, there’s another player who just took a death. Every time a team wins a match, there is a team who was defeated. That give and take, in and of itself, is part of what makes video games fun. It’s the thrill of the kill, the rapture of triumph, the chemicals that go off in our brains when we win and someone else loses. That’s part of why we play video games, but its by no means the only reason. Nor the most important reason, for that matter.
Smite, a game I’ve written about before, is my most recent video game muse. And like a muse, the game often tortures me. Like taking a string of deaths against a player vastly superior in skill and experience to myself. Or banning me when I disconnected from the lobby because my inconsistent internet hiccuped. Or when the same internet chokes trying to download the latest update. The list goes on. But every now and then, the story changes. Maybe the wireless signal streams smoothly. Or my character’s build syncs perfectly against the opposing team. Or the queue pairs me up with some genuinely decent human beings (they still have those on the internet, truly), and we have a laugh just playing the game, no matter how it goes. Whatever the case, these moments, these bright segments, keep me as a player coming back to the game.
The last game I played today was a textbook example of one of those bright segments. My team was steamrolled most of the half hour match. The opposing team had pushed us clear back to our objective and whittled it down to a third of its health. Then something miraculous happened. We began to push back. The enemy got overconfident and made a few silly mistakes. We rallied and practiced a little teamwork, making a concentrated effort in left lane. Our late-game carries started carrying with a vengeance. We pushed the enemy back to their objective, sent them all to respawn, and destroyed their objective before they knew what was happening. Game over, victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. And, not coincidentally, an embodiment of many of the reasons why we, as gamers, play video games.
Tis Not Too Late to Seek a Better World
Escapism. It’s a word that’s often thrown out in conjunction with video games, and with good reason. Nearly every game, from Call of Duty to the esoteric Journey, crafts its own world, and invites players to inhabit it. Even when the industry is still going through the trend of “gritty realism” (which most often translates to brown color palettes and frequent usage of the phrase “Oscar Mike!”), we still have fantastic titles like the recently released Inside offer a glimpse into a different world entirely. It’s an escape from the doldrums of our daily lives into an entirely different reality.
Smite is no exception. A MOBA at heart, the game casts players in the personas of various mythological deities, from the classic Zeus and Hercules to the lesser known Xbalanque or Xing Tian. Battle is done in various arenas, from Mayan jungles to a battled scarred Olympic pantheon. It’s a colorful and diverse world that even non-mythology buffs can immerse themselves in. Today I played as Sun Wukong, the Chinese Monkey King (Sun Goku’s inspiration, for those interested.) I saw the Mayan huntress Awilix ensnare Anubis in a gravity well, did battle with the living mountain Cabrakan, and was killed countless times by the shifty squirrel Ratatoskr. Yes, you read that right. I was killed by a squirrel. Several times. It’s that kind of fantastical escapism that keeps us as players coming back to video games that we love.
Friends and other Strangers
The internet can be a sketchy place to meet new people. But the clash of virtual competition can make for some quick friends, or at least brief comrades. Early on in today’s match, I committed too deeply to a fight and was punished with a death that left the team one man down. Using in-game voice prompts, I issued a team wide apology. The response that came back from another player was issued using the same in-game prompts. It was two simple statements: “No problem,” and “Have fun.” It’s a simple statement, and yet its one that’s so easily forgotten. In a competitive MOBA like Smite, this holds especially true. And yet here is this player, who was the unfortunate first blood in the match, who was reminding me to have fun.
So we had fun. Even though we got our collective virtual butts kicked most of the way, we played as a team. Even though surrender votes were cast more than once, they were always shot down. It’s hard to call it camaraderie, but once the momentum rolled in our favor, we were one single minded entity: attack the Titan, win the game. And when it was all over, we all said, “Good game.” It’s that kind of ad hoc teamwork, these temporary bonds formed with casual strangers mid-game, that helps make video games not only competitive, but fun.
The Greatest Story Ever Told: Yours
By now you’ve probably had enough of me waxing poetic about this one match in Smite. “So what?” You might ask. “It was an underdog victory; big whoop. I’ve done that too!” Yes, you probably have. And you’ve probably been on the other end of that kind of story too. I know I have. Stories like those, and countless others just like them, are the secret to video games lasting effect on us as consumers. It’s not just the thrill of victory. Nor is it just the world you can get lost in, nor the fun you have with your friends. It’s the narrative. I’m not talking about whatever story the game may be saddled with. I’m talking about the stories we as players create to provide context for every skirmish, every match, every career record we have in countless games, be they MOBAs or FPS or RPGs. It can be an underdog victory like what I’ve described in Smite. Or that time you 1v4ed a team and defused the bomb in CoD Search & Destroy. Or how you soloed that one boss in Dark Souls III. Or the emotions you felt watching the credits roll in Uncharted 4. All these stories are really just one story: ours, the story of gamers. So go make your own stories, player.
RSS