Monkeying around

I recall when the Japanese giant Nintendo unleashed its new product, the Game Boy — a hand-held, battery-powered plastic block that promised to set gamers loose, from the tyranny of arcades and pizza parlors.  

A tradition was born: and in my opinion, a stupid game.  Their invention colonized brains and shifted the entire economic model of the video-game industry. Today we are living, for better and worse, in a world of idle time –fillers.

Games reflect the societies in which they are created and played. Monopoly, for instance, was a product of the 1930s — it allowed anyone, in the middle of the Depression, to play at being a tycoon. Risk, released in the 1950s, is a stunningly literal expression of cold-war politics.   

Tetris was invented in a Soviet computer lab in the mid 1980’s — and its play reflected its origin. The enemy in Tetris is not some identifiable villain but a faceless, ceaseless, reasonless force that threatens constantly to overwhelm you, a churning production of blocks against which your only defense is a repetitive, meaningless sorting. It is bureaucracy in pure form, busywork with no aim or end, impossible to avoid or escape. And the game’s final insult is that it annihilates free will and forces us to punish ourselves.

When Angry Birds became the most popular game on the iphone, I resisted buying one—the title alone was a turn-off.  How could anyone cut themselves off like a cold mummy, in a form of escapism and be so unproductive? 

I know some who say that they recognize a scary power over them — an opium kind of power — in a video game. I suggest they cultivate other, more impressive ways of spending time, such as culture, or pouring attention into books.

I may sound high-minded but I am detached from video games and don’t believe they have any redeeming value.  And if a game incites violence, or a form of gambling and isn’t fulfilling, what’s the point?  

Humans have always played games. Dice are older than recorded history. Ancient Egyptians played a board game called Senet, which archaeologists believe was something like sacred backgammon. We have rock-paper-scissors, tick-tack-toe, checkers, dominoes and solitaire — abstract games in which sets of simple rules play out in increasingly complex scenarios.  Even chess, you might say, is the king of games: and draws the line where stupid ends and smart takes over.

Games are addictive; they explore an intersection in the brain of motor skills and our capacity to track multiple objects simultaneously. And then there are some who might argue that games may be the answer to all of humanity’s problems— play is possibly the best, healthiest, most productive activity a human can undertake — a gateway to our ideal psychological state.  Certainly for Dementia patients they can be an optimal form of engaging it. Some proponents might point to successful examples of games applied to everyday life: Weight Watchers and frequent-flier miles, for example.

Facebook’s Zynga has expanded its focus to include mobile phones.  Some people argue that Zynga’s signature games — FarmVille, FishVille — shouldn’t even be called games.  They are driven by the human need to achieve progress by a predictable path and a willingness to pay small amounts of money to make that progress go faster. So maybe they aren’t games, just gambling or money drainers.  But one could argue that FarmVille is in fact the logic behind gamification: they have the appearance of games; they inspire the compulsions of games, but are they helping us learn or develop a skill-set?

Multiple Player Games or MMORPG’s—have a large number of players that interact with one another within a virtual game world. I’m sure some will argue that this interaction makes them different, human like, but is this social progress, investing huge amounts of time and money only to repeatedly kill the same monsters over and over again?

The influences of capitalism have crawled into the gaming industry and an increasing number are being churned out—before long the entire gaming industry will be sucked into the vortex of it.  So where does this leave us?  Personally, I feel disturbed by the dark side of games, like an addiction or a cynical corporate hijacking. Part of the seduction, as I see it, is to come out on the other side a more interesting and self-aware person; more conscious of your habits, weaknesses, desires and strengths. But instead it’s like a deadly drug; that crushes your brain. Sure, there’s mathematics to it; if that’s what we can call that tiny piece of culture. But the type of game you play is also a part of how you think about yourself as a person.  Although we walk it like a tightrope between this cerebral thing that gives you opportunities to improve yourself — through forcing us to make a series of choices about what matters, moment to moment, in our lives — at the same time it’s monotonous, and hooks and reels you in and that’s plain self-destruction.

Our lifespan is short, is anyone at the end of theirs playing these games? Are the terminally ill saying—I should have spent more time on playing games and less time staying in touch, talking to or getting to know that person? 

Games have not been proven as a relaxation technique.  Do they make us any happier, inspire us or make us more productive? Do they help us live in the moment with awareness or superficially distract us? Ultimately, I realize, games are a subtle and mysterious form of wall-building: the internal walls we build to compartmentalize our time, our attention, and our lives.  And that’s why I see them as idle time fillers, and as stupid games.   

Are you a video game player? Do they make you stupid or smart? What do you think? Your comments are welcome.