I did not play any videogames today.
It’s my favorite pastime, and yet somehow I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a controller and play… anything. At all. What’s worse is that I actually have these days fairly often, and sometimes these days stretch into entire weeks. What’s especially strange is that when this happens, I find myself with a rather odd feeling of guilt, like I’m betraying myself.
The number one reason for this feeling, in my opinion, is the overwhelming number of releases we are subjected to as gamers these days. It’s hardly worth complaining about the fact that game companies make games, but every gamer in the world occasionally feels the need to hit a “pause” button, freeze the industry in place, and finish their backlogs. It’s especially bad for people such as myself; I’m still trying to catch up on a fair number of PS2 and even PSX titles.
Chinese Donuts.
While this flood of releases generally encourages me to play games like mad, it also can have the exact opposite effect and cause me to utter something along the lines of “frack this.” Shortly thereafter I generally find myself browsing the interwebs, or sitting in front of South Park. (Mmmm, South Park.) Kinda like a really overstuffed Chinese buffet, where you know you’ll probably just end up eating chinese donuts and hitting up the ice cream machines afterward. Or… something.
It sounded like a better analogy in my head. Not so much when I typed it out. MOVING ON.
Bologna Sammich.
Another problem is that I’m spoiled. Frankly, I have a really hard time spending significant lengths of time with something that doesn’t knock my socks off. Sure, I might play Mass Effect for a few hours or so, but it takes something like Dead Space to make me fire up my PS3 or 360 on a daily basis. This is likely due to the fact that, like most other adults, my gametime is pitifully finite. When I was a kid I could spend insane amounts of time with literal garbage like, say, Spider-Man 2, and still have all the time in the world. But oh, how things change. Kinda like the choice between a bologna sandwich on bunny bread and a deli-style turkey club with the works on a hoagie roll.
…
I think I need to go play a game to clear my head. My analogies, at the very least, seem to be suffering for it. But before I go, I ask: do any of you fine readers experience the same troubles? And, like me, does it make you feel… guilty? Or am I talking about things that might be better suited for a black leatherbound diary?
