In retrospect, during Thanksgiving break I did a lot more
than it seemed, although not necessarily the things I had on my agenda. Instead
of finishing up all my final projects early so I could take a breather for the
rest of the semester, I had the surprise of a lifetime when nuclear armageddon
struck and I found my way into an underground shelter. Instead of catching up
on leisure reading or the year’s biggest albums, I traveled a futuristic
hellscape where monsters roam free and heads explode if you shoot them just
right. Instead of cleaning my room, I cleaned up entire towns of debris and
detritus, building houses and entire communities with sheer will alone.
I played entirely too much Fallout 4
over break, so in reality I was just sitting on my couch pressing buttons and
twisting joysticks. But even though I was consciously aware of the fact that I
was a guy in a room with friends looking at a screen, I was also completely
immersed in the experience. When I would come out of a particularly arduous
battle against an enemy victoriously, I felt immense relief, and also wariness
that my supplies were now diminished. When my dog was hurt, I would heal him
with a swift medical injection, lest his pixellated form whimper on the floor.
I felt a lot of what my character is supposed to feel, whether that’s gratitude
and warmth towards a friend or ally, or malice and anger towards someone who
had done me wrong. I am not the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, but he is I.
Basically for as long as video games have been around, concerns
have been raised about whether the hobby is entirely healthy or not. Serious gamers
are allegedly crippled by compulsions, unable to leave the closed systems they
inhabit and choosing to turn their back on real social interactions, real
pursuits, real reality. It’s a hotly contested issue, with research leading
right now to the conclusion that it’s
not really a thing like media
scandals wanted you to believe ten years ago. Yet that lingering threat of disappearing
into imaginary universes still remains.
Maybe it’s a sign of the times and of my generation, but all
of this seems perfectly related to Jean Baudrillard. “Simulacra and Simulations”
was published in 1981, right around the same time that Donkey Kong came on the
scene and Atari’s reign began to crumble, and a lot of what he says sounds
absolutely crazy (because it is, and because Walt Disney’s head isn’t actually
frozen!) But what other version of a simulation is more potent and widespread
in the world today than a video game life? Games are massive collages of
simulacra that we know are not real, but which strive to become realer and more
life-like graphically as time goes on. Does that mean Baudrillard was right
along and we see it before our very eyes? Are we coming out with the sequel to
Reality, where we can be stronger, faster, better, happier?
I think it’s an interesting thought, but just like I’m skeptical
of a video game addiction epidemic, I’m skeptical of the idea they are
undermining existence as a whole. For starters, the technology just isn’t there
yet, as we still haven’t figured out how to get someone to strap on a virtual reality
headset without wanting to throw up (we have our best people on it, though!)
But there’s also the fact that most gamers simply don’t want that to happen in
the first place, any more than movie fans want to live in movies or people who
love to watch sports want to see the action from the field. If humanity has
evolved in any direction, it’s not into worlds of our own craft, but into our
living rooms, where we can be comfortable and merry. A world where we are all
plugged in to games to the point where society crumbles might make for a good
science fiction novel, but it’s so out of touch with reality that it’s more
fairy dust than simulacra.
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