Interlude: musings on video games, in lieu of thinking

Work on the book has stepped up, and there's another post that I've been thinking about but can't get into words yet. This will have to do in the meantime.

Time for a stark admission: I suck at Dragon Age: Origins. 

Well, I suppose it isn't that bad. I haven't broken any laws. My mum won't mind. My video game prowess is unlikely to come up in a job interview (although that might be the best job ever!).

I'm still a little bothered by it, though. Video games used to be a hobby, and even though less and less of my life is given over to playing them (they waste valuable fretting time), I'd still hoped that the skills I honed over the last two decades might last a little longer than they seem to. I had assumed that playing games would be just like riding a bike, and that after even a long absence I might pick up the controller and resume with similar success.

There are two problems with this. First: I'm terrible at riding bicycles. Seriously. I'm like Mr. Bean; a danger to myself and others. So while it makes a good analogy in principle, there's no direct comparison to be drawn. In fact, I can't think of a single skill I have that hasn't noticeably atrophied through disuse.

Second: video games can often rely on dexterity and muscle memory. These things need constant work-outs if they are to remain effective. The less you play, the less your body remembers, and the slower your reaction time. The slower your reaction time, the more likely it is that you get shot, or exploded, or fall down a bottomless pit, or in my case get constantly lapped by my brother's fiancée on flippin' Sega All-Stars Racing. (Sonic the Hedgehog can run at the speed of sound! Why does he even need a car? And since when were girls allowed to be good at computer games?)

So I might console myself with these facts, except that Dragon Age: Origins is very much a role-playing game and doesn't require much dexterity to play it. It might pretend to be an action game because the combat is in real-time, but it's still very much a case of: see enemy, click 'attack,' watch them fight until one falls over, repeat. I really shouldn't be having this much trouble simply because I'm out of practice.

I haven't made things easy for myself, admittedly. Seeing as my gaming skills were a little rusty it would have made sense to make myself a tank-like dwarven warrior with a big axe, that I could just point at the bad guys and then forget about till the battle was done.

Well, I thought, stuff that. And so I made myself a stylish but rather effeminate-looking elf, and sank all my status points into making him extra suave and smart (I read on the internet that you get to sleep with other characters if you're charming enough, and so I felt the need to prioritise). The result? Well, he is super charming, and during the conversation segments of the game he does very well. It's just on the battlefield he's kind of... squishy. I've never spent such a long time in a game lying on the floor.

I'm not helped by the friendly A.I, which obviously subscribes to the 'conkers' form of military organisation. They aren't very good at being stealthy. Or healing themselves. Or getting out the way of my arrows. Or not shooting me in the back of the head with a stream of eldritch fire after I'd specifically pointed out the mook I wanted immolated. Our main strategy is to all run up to the same guy, crowd around him and swing wildly until either he dies, we die, or our mage sets us all on fire again.

It could be argued that there is an element of strategy that I'm failing to grasp. I'm sure I could be directing my troops in battle in a manner more conducive to victory. The thing is... I can't be bothered. I no longer seek to be challenged just for the sake of it. Winning the fighting is not a reward in itself, and so I don't want to have to go through with it over and over again.

I'm playing the game partly because I like the character interaction and the story is quite compelling. The main reason is that the sarky, misanthropic witch on my team is voiced by Claudia Black and so if there's any chance of sleeping with her then I'm all for it (once she stops repeatedly setting me on fire).

It's just about fun. In fact I've ended up lowering the difficulty level, first from hard (such arrogance) to normal, then normal to (shudder) casual.

I'm now a casual video game player, and I'm not really bothered about it. The sting to my pride lasted all of about four seconds. Now my team of adventurers can set one another on fire with impunity. I'm really only completing the fighting parts so I can get back to seducing Claudia Black (it isn't going well, although my feckless bisexual thief is giving me the eye. Decisions, decisions).

I've been thinking recently about how many of my other past-times seem to be falling by the wayside. If my thirteen-year-old self could look at me now he'd probably shake his head in disgust, then annihilate me at Street Fighter. 

Is it that I seek to be challenged less? That's a scary thought: that way lies apathy, atrophy, nothingness. I don't think that's how I feel.  I can't be bothered to save my squishy elf in a video game because my squishy elf is my break from reality. The more complicated my life gets (and, tellingly, the more empathic I attempt to be), the more I seek structured reward in my past-times. When I was younger, I would have banged my head against the wall with Dragon Age just for the sake of it. It was a game, that was how you played. Now... I need more than that. I need, in this case at least, to have a shot at shagging Claudia Black. I'm worried that the next game I play isn't going to be able to compete with that. I fear my Xbox has lean times ahead.