I never really saw myself as much of a gamer before. So I played more than my fair share of games, what's the big deal? And although I don't generally have any game which I find myself unable to restraint from playing currently, I do still treat myself to an hour or two of playing every now and then.
I remember the first game I ever played on a PC. That is, on account that pre-included game (Hearts, Minesweeper) are not counted. Anyways, that game was Sonic. You know, the lil' blue hedgehog. C'mon, everyone knows him. So yeah It was just a simple side scroller and included keys like movement and a jump. That was all. Yet in those days, I considered myself to be living the life whenever I convinced my mom to allow me to switch on the computer. Collecting golden rings while speeding around slopes and loops wearing red sneakers was the perfect getaway from my kindergarten life.
It wasn't long before we got a relatively newer computer by standards of those days. My cousin also bought me a new game called Shogo. It has graphics somewhat similar to Unreal and Serious Sam The First Encounter, which was really something worth mentioning. The gameplay however, was more like quake. A shoot 'em up style of fps. It also had an anime feel to it and was my first recorded memory of Japanese names other than Godzilla or Digimon. Of course, it needed skills to play too. At that time, blasting all those giant robots away with my pulse rifle was the most adrenaline-filled activity I've ever done then. That, and of course watching COPS on tv. The game even had one of my favourite and definitely nostalgia inducing intros.
But enough about that, I still can remember the feelings I felt whenever I got killed by an enemy mech either on PC or by Sweet-tooth on my PS1. I was angry. I felt frustrated with myself many times. When you were young, you did not realize that perhaps the game was too complicated for you to understand. After all, I was merely in lower primary then. I never really knew how to make strategies and plan my progress so that I would have enough life, potions or medicine to make it past the boss. It was more of a 'we'll see what happens' kinda situation. After all, I never had a gameboy to play with. As such, never have I completed any Pokemon game whatsoever. Being rather reclusive in those days, I seldom approached my friends to ask if they played the same game as I do.
Anyways, back to topic. Given my limited knowledge then, I was always daunted by epic boss fights. My reflexes just weren't up to standard to react to the T-Rex in Dino Crisis. My thinking was rather simplistic and lead me to charge into battle in Front Mission. As a result, I died more than I feel I deserve. Basically I was irritated at my incompetence. Why? I asked myself often. Years later, I grew up and understood more concepts. It was then I realized how foolish I was.
Sometime during lower secondary, I was clearing my room due to incessant complains from my mom. While dumping the papers around, I noticed a rather huge plastic bag sitting in a corner hidden by shoeboxes and books. Slowly, I walked cautiously towards it. I sat down beside the bag and unfolded it, my hands feeling the almost-sticky yellow plastic while my nose picked up the slight tinge of mustiness. Then, I took a peek inside and sitting there hopefully was my long forgotten Playstation. I had just rediscovered my childhood treasure. I felt like Indiana Jones.
Dusting it off, I found the cables and plugged it into the small tv in my room and switched on the power. I prayed.
First, the nostalgic low electronic hum reverberated through the room and somewhere in my heart, something was ignited as distinctive white and orange colors fill up the screen. A few seconds later it transitioned to the familiar red, blue and yellow PS icon, itself outstanding in the black background. As traces of the hum resonated amidst the clean sparkling tunes, all the memories I chucked away in a corner of my mind began flowing back in a plethora of emotions. For a few seconds, I felt peace and happiness. My prayers were answered.
As I heard the classic Cardigans song coming to life, I realized the very last game I played was Gran Turismo 2. I had even left the CD inside all this while. After being in awe at how epic the shit was despite years of absence, I slowly maneuvered my way through the menu, selecting my all time favourite Nissan Skyline. I was ready. After all, I had played much more racing games since then.
Approaching the first corner, my years of experience told me to release the accelerator, slam the brakes, downshift, steer left followed by counter-steering when the car tips into a turn and finally putting the pedal to the metal. The flow of thoughts was flawless. I knew how to tackle it. Yet, a part of me, somewhere deep down, wanted to follow the memory that was dying to get out, to be relived. The dilemma was difficult, yet clear.
I pressed the accelerator button and only when I was at the head of the turn then I pressed left. Watching my car crash into the walls and spinning out of control had never been more fun. It was exactly just like how I did it years ago. I was a child again.
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As I think back now, how many times have I played a game thinking I completely understood the concept of the game and that however I performed then, was my best. It seemed to me like its everytime. So often I have returned to an old game and told myself, 'Hey, why the hell was I trying to hard to get past this stage, all I have to do is climb up this ladder, run up the wall here, shimmy to the left and down the corner, followed by jumping opposite and reaching the ledge to activate the door.' It makes complete sense to me now, yet I was all but completely confounded then.
Therefore, I wonder if a few years down the road, would I look back at myself playing games like Left4Dead where I consider myself to be currently at or near my peak now and say, 'Dude, wtf. It's so easy to dodge a jockey all you have to do is blah blah blah...' Maybe I will, or maybe that revelation will never come to me. Just like Contra, I don't think I could do any better now than I did when I was in primary school.
But who knows?
This seems to apply to academics as well. In fact I think the link is pretty obvious, with knowledge comes intelligence. Maybe not the O level's just yet, but when you think back to secondary 1 or 2, you can't remember what the hell were you struggling so hard over. Algebra has since become a part and parcel of our education life.
With that, I wonder if I will ever look back and chuckle at the simplicity of the A levels, while at the same time be embarrassed at how much I feel threatened by it right now.
I hope I do.
Perhaps.
We saw it coming from a mile away. It sizzled, simmered, murmured half-forgotten hexes so the air around us crackled with a deep and dark magick; we were alive,
we were waiting, we were
dangerous/
beautiful/
insane
and desperate for rain.
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