Games
Week 46
This was the week of the analog journal 📓, and I discovered two unexpected benefits.
First, writing by hand is much slower than typing, and if I want my handwriting to be decipherable, I need to slow down even more. This means writing much less. Because I write only a few paragraphs, they need to mean more. This is a good exercise for my hyper-brain, forcing it to slow down and think about what I have to say.
Second, There’s no editing, no spellchecking, no revising. This means that when I close the journal, I’m done. No going back to it to add stuff or edit later. This is a sense of closure that is missing from a digital journal.
On the wiki, I updated my Micro.blog page . It includes more of the philosophy of Micro.blog (the way I see it) with an illustration.
I wanted to create a short video for Lillihub, a new Micro.blog client, but it didn’t come out as good as I wanted. I’ll probably make a page in the wiki for it.
Another exciting addition is computer games 🎮 reviews on my blog. For this, I use Backlogg. The games page is broken for now; I need to improve my knowledge of Backlogg and get all the parts working. Nevertheless, I’m excited to include these reviews. I spend plenty of time on games, and reviewing them as I review movies makes sense.
Sorry for littering… I found a video game review site, backloggd (inspired by letterboxd), which allows RSS feed. This means I can use it to review games and post to my blog. Still working out some of the issues.
World of Warships (2015) - ★★½
On my Gaming PC, I renamed World of Warship’s desktop shortcut to Sad Addiction. That’s a good summary of what I think about this game.
It is a solid, tactical, and balanced game for the most part. Each ship class you choose plays differently, and there are differences between different ships of the same class. You can upgrade and add special weapons and tactical bonuses to your ships, choose different captains, and more. Technically, the game is stable, the servers rarely lag, and the graphics are excellent. And, being a Wargaming game, it’s also free to pick up and play.
Here comes the but.
Being a multiplayer online game, your fun from it depends mostly on who you play with. Unfortunately, this usually means bad experiences are more common than good ones, at a ratio of about 3:1. What’s worse, the developers understand most of their gamers are teenage hornballs (or at least they act like ones) and target that constantly. Game updates are explained in video clips presented by sexualized women. Avatars are anime and even hentai-oriented characters. Many in-game events emphasize stuff from Megadeath to Transformers. So yes bro, there’s no surprise that the gaming experience often feels like a bad high school reunion.
On the technical side, the game includes huge patches every month or so, with 70% of things you won’t care about (Sailor Moon captains anyone?) or won’t affect your gameplay directly (a ship that costs 60 US dollars). There are also other questionable practices, like an annoying Windows system notification that warns you if you switch away from the game to a different program for a minute or a broken reporting system that colors your name in the game pink (Oh no! Not pink! What would friends say?!) for the most idiotic things, like choosing to play a plane carrier, since some players hate this class of ship so much they report you if you play them.
Since I already commented on the price of some of the ships: the game is free, yes, but that means Wargaming will do whatever it can to get you to buy stuff. A premium account, a season pass, a ship with an advantage in the game, etc. In fact, if you play this game long enough and get to high-tier ships, it becomes nearly impossible to progress without spending at least a little bit of money to move up.
So, if this review reads more like a vent, it’s because it is. I love the game, and I hate the game.
Games teach you hard life lessons
Today I beat the Fire Bellowback in the Sigma vault in Horizon Zero Dawn. The boss’s weapon: stressful mash-button panic that makes me rage-quit a game and not pick it up for months, if at all. This time, I emerged victorious.
Games 🎮 can teach you life lessons. Hades, a game you have to try right now if you haven’t, (seriously, stop reading, buy and download it, and come back after you’ve died several times) is a masterpiece lesson in never giving up. I don’t think I would beat the Fireback if it wasn’t for the daddy issues in Hades (If you play it you’ll understand).
Facing fears is a lesson no game taught me better than Subnautica (turns out I have a phobia of being under seawater). A game about accepting death? Try What Remains of Edith Finch. Regrets and leaving a better world behind you for those you learn to care about? Try RDR2. In my opinion, the game succeeded where many movies failed.
That’s not to say there aren’t some terrible games out there (actually, I’m not a big fan of HZD, I think it has many issues), but even the bad ones can have some gold nuggets with things to teach you to become a better version of yourself.
When I was a teenager, my parents told me I’ll “grow out” of playing games when I’m older. I’m glad that’s one of the items on the “you won’t do or be X when your older” list, for sure. I don’t think I’ll ever stop playing games or cherish what they have to offer.
Of Subnautica and Fear
When it was time to build a base on my second attempt at Subnautica, I picked a location near the Blood Kelp Zone. Its cliff walls spread in front of me into the endless blue, and deep down I could see the pale bloodvines reaching up toward me like the claws of a forgotten demon. As if by cue, scary dramatic music started playing, and my PDA’s AI announced that the zone “matches 7 of the 9 preconditions for stimulating terror in humans.” I was thankful the game creators didn’t include the two other ones, whatever these may be.
The reason I chose this location for my home was because of fear. Subnautica is a game about fear, and it was teaching me to face it one step at a time. The first time I played, the game had the element of surprise. I remember my first reaper: it came out of nowhere and grabbed my Seamoth like a plaything. I yelped, slammed the Alt+F4 keys, and stomped out of my room as white as the hallway wall I was leaning against, mumbling “oh my god” over and over. Now I know better. I know where they are, I can see them in the distance, and… I’m still scared. But I go ahead anyway. The fear is not pushing me away; it’s teaching me to be prepared. The only thing that’s really scary is fear itself.
Now the base is furnished, complete with a Moonpool for my Seamoth, which I call “Discovery.” It is powered by a nuclear reactor I built from fragments retrieved from brave explorations. A single glass corridor connects my living area to a bubble-like observatory room which hovers directly over the dark abyss. There’s a chair in the middle of that observatory, so I can sit and read my PDA’s contents while staring fear in the face.
I’ve found something at the bottom of the abyss. “Something that shouldn’t be there.” It’s a dark, green-hellish-looking place with bones of creatures the size of an apartment building. Each day, I explore further. Each day, I push further, and the game never fails to scare me. Winning these small battles against myself bit by bit becomes addictive. I look back at what scared me before and I know I’ve conquered it. I know that now if one of these monsters chooses to attack my base, I will fight it. The base hanging over the cliff that once terrified me is now my home, my new comfort zone. I know every fold in the ground, every rock covered with floaters, every hole to the mushroom cave. You can’t be scared of what you know. Subnautica is an excellent teacher of this lesson.