The Second in a series of discussions about games with Gods
It’s been cold. Cold and snowy. Hiking to see Prometheus will be a bit more traitorous for a while, but from his perspective, the punishment isn’t as perilous as some. The giant furs are covered in heavy snow, hanging sadly for the winter. Their branches won’t be bright and outstretched for months, like sleeping giants. Finding the path to Prometheus always makes be understand how old the earth is. Usually it’s very easy to forget or at least hard to realize. I find myself smaller and smaller as a result, wondering as I slip gracefully on ice covered rock. He has been chained and eaten for so long. The time isn’t worth calculating. “Gods don’t die. They only wait.”
This trek seemed a little longer, probably from tightening my ankles and decidedly stepping lighter and slower up the mountain. I was thinking of my latest game play in an epic called, Skyrim. Open sandbox worlds are not completely new to games, but they are for me. Even older Dungeons&Dragon games afford a Game Master rule over hours and hours of imaginative game space. Ask any of those pen and paper nerds. I was never one of them. I prefer the digital versions of such adventures. Not because I can’t envision stories sitting quietly with my eyes closed, but because I can walk through the digital world and I become blind to the walls of my apartment, the sun’s altitude. The definition of escapism I’m sure. But playing isn’t for the sake of escaping - anything immersive puts the participant in such a position. Read Lord of The Rings or Harry Potter and you will understand or I get to call you a fool. Maybe you already escape like me. But a winter walk is always one of a burning somber. More clouds and the steady reminder of the cold hibernation of this season puts a melancholy air to any mood and I find that I only want to play certain parts of Skyrim. This world is so vast, that any object seen in the distance can be traveled to. Some of those places are mountain tops and passed a certain point of dense tree lines, snow and wind occupy the screen turning what was once a solitary run through silent green valley into an urgent up hill battle.
It’s a strange realization when the real word affects how you want to play a game and vice versa. I didn’t mind the cold in reaching Prometheus. There was something for me waiting at the end, something to learn, something to fight, something that tells me I’m heading for a struggle, today.
He was standing up, poised like a colonial general. Actually he reminded me of Hannibal Lecter standing like a demon in his cell the moment Clarice peers through the tough plexi-glass. But Prometheus was smiling, happy to see me. I slowed down to climb a larger rock to meet his height. I hate when it looks like he’s looking down at me. Who wouldn’t feel judged by a god? He didn’t try to help me. I slipped and rubbed by hands down a very cold and very rough rock, skinning my palms showing hundreds of tiny specs of blood the size of pores.
“Thanks. I got it.”
“Did you really need my help?”
“Suppose not.” He didn’t move. “What’s with the statue pose today?”
“Something I’m trying - trying to be tougher.” “What does that mean? Tougher? For who?” “You.” “Me? You look scary.”
“Lecture huh?” “Yea, that’s exactly what I thought.” “Damn it. That look is so precise and undeniable. Kind of meant to raise an on looker’s blood pressure.”
“It works. I wondered if we were going to battle. Though, I only have a set of keys.” “You should carry a sword then. Run up the trail like Skyrim.” “What? How did you know…A sword? I live in Boulder. The harshest harassment I get is feeling guilty for not providing change to the pan handlers.”
“It’s hard to be a hero at any time isn’t it?” “I wouldn’t call giving out change heroic.” “I wouldn’t either. You seem very unsure of something. Kind of the complete opposite of how I present myself to you.” “Are you reading minds now? You stood there on purpose?” “Calm down. You do know gods know everything, right? Even the old ones. Doesn’t mean we do anything with that knowledge and it’s not like a bunch of noise in our heads. It’s more like how a psychic reads your body language, facial muscles, and language then knows you just lost your grandmother, except I can read everything about you. And since I figured I would see you today, I concentrated on your tiny brain and got to hear a bit about what’s been going on in there.” “How cool and incredibly violating.” “Well, you people should be used to it by now. I think everyone should just know that we actually don’t pay attention. Who would? There are too many of you now. And no offense, but your mostly boring.” “Gee, thanks.”
He jumped down from his perch and we both started walking around his eternal prison. It was pretty for a vista-view cell. He relaxed his body and with slow feet I followed in his footsteps, watching for drier patches of ground to plant them. He seemed to move lightly across the ground, never seeming to worry about the ice under his. Gods don’t fall down I guess.
“So if we are so boring, what makes you so interesting in me?” “I said mostly boring.” “Right. But still.” “People who worry about themselves are much more interesting. Because they wonder about things that most others won’t because most others worry about everyone else. I personally don’t think that’s very helpful.” “I’m not trying to be selfish or anything.” “Oh everyone is selfish. But that’s not a bad quality. It’s only when one feels judged do they plead innocence from selfishness. It’s not self pity or arrogance that your life is better than another. You are worrying about life in the way gods tried to view things.”
“Yep. I always knew I thought like a god.”
“Touché.”
I smiled looking down at the ground. Prometheus looked straight up squinting at the overcast sky.
“We live up high, right? Well, we get a big broad view from up there.” “Ok. I guess I can feel a little better.”
I shove my hands down my pockets suddenly feeling like a pitiful little child. Prometheus turns his head just enough squinting his eyes like he’d peer into my brain. Maybe he just needed sunglasses. I tried to ignore his stare.
“It’s no big deal. Winter makes me feel the same way. I don’t feel very worthy. I wonder how one is to be a real hero.”
“But you’re a god. Why should you worry?”
“Do you know why we stopped meddling with your lives?” “No.” “Because you didn’t need us anymore. Actually, you never needed us to feel heroic or to use a less literary term, significant. We all thought you needing saving, and we were it baby! Some thought there was a way to make a grand utopia out of the lot.”
I laughed out loud
“Really? The gods didn’t see that coming?” “Well, when you create anything, don’t you try anything to control it - maintain it? It’s a simple ego issue. Our experiment just lasted a really long time. But I notice something myself.” “Oh yeah. What was that?” “I didn’t stop trying to make everyone perfect because I knew I’d fail. I stopped because I realized that everyone goes back and forth. They’re happy. They’re sad. They’re strong. They’re weak. There are infinite variables. And what I realized, and this is why I stole fire - all you needed was an idea. You always had imaginations. Some are stronger than others’. But I wanted to give you a spark.”
“Well thanks, I guess.” “I’m not looking for a thank you. Doing so was my story, my fantasy. The same righteousness anyone feels when something is figured out - an epiphany.” “But now we all move so fast. I don’t even get up here to see you as often as I could. Even when nothing gets in the way, something is in the way. Hmm. Makes complete sense right?” “Well, I get your meaning. And I’m not going anywhere.” “I know. But life is scary when there are so many variables. It’s like you said, we don’t need your help, but it is sure hard as hell to figure out where to go, how to be, and I want to be great.” “Everyone wants those things.” “Well that’s the struggle right? I hike up here to see you, I follow a trail I can see and I like knowing my destination - what’s at the end.” “You want it mapped out for you? Sorry, we don’t do that anymore. We tried to give clear straight paths a long time ago. Humans rejected them almost before the path was laid out.” “I don’t need a map.” “I know you don’t. Humans have always been very good, as a collective, in creating their own variables. The stories and myth you create to make sense of life is quiet astonishing. But it’s a catch-22 now.” “Yes it is. Who wouldn’t feel lost?” “Many people do I’m sure. Some would say you have the collective in your subconscious, but you have reality to contend with too. This is why we grow up and have experiences. The individual path is set out by your own device. And I think that’s encouraging. You usually don’t play open worlds like Skyrim do you? You like a game to pull you in the right direction so when you win, you know it! Open worlds don’t give you a straight line to follow. And you’re living in a real one. The closest tool you have to know your way is a scattered map and a lot of space in between. So, why do you think at this moment a game such as Skyrim, a game you never liked playing, his hitting you so hard, today?” “Something is drawing me to explore instead. It forces me to be an Adventurer. I’m always a little anxious at what could be down the road, if I’m making a good or right decision, and it’s exciting. How is that encouraging by the way? Things change so fast.” “They do. This is why I love games.” “You seriously have a way to thank games?” “Oh games are far more important than you realize. And they occur all the time.”
“Alright. You’ll need to explain this one, please.” “It’s not that difficult. You came up here today thinking about another universe, one that can even be affected by your real life. You don’t carry a sword here, but you do have your arms of the day. Some people use art or writing, charm and conversation, money and material, or just other people’s love and attention. But you all want to save the day. You feel guilty when you don’t give change to the poor man because if you did you know, that day, you’d be Superman, yet you did nothing.” “Ok, but we can’t all do everything nice all the time, any time.” “And I don’t think you’re expected to. Nor do I believe you should. All I want to show you is that knowing which things you have - the weapons you carry - can be used to battle the time you’re in. You can’t fight dragons now because you live in a time of technology and business and other wages of power.” “But I want those dragons to rain fire and I want to shout back. I want things to be extraordinary and the fantasy I see in those games brings that out of me.” “You’re right. You can’t do that today. The warrior is neglected in your time. But you’re lucky. Even if it’s games, which I am a fan, are the means to bring out something alive inside you is more than some can say about themselves. Living through those stories, even in your imagination cultivates something in you. There’s no denying that.” “True. I love getting lost there. But when I wake up, when reality isn’t the best right then, what am I to do? How can living not be good enough.” “That’s overly dramatic I think. Living is good enough. And it’s always mixed with good and bad. That’s how we came up with infinity.” “I know. That came out wrong. But it’s always easy to say there’s good and bad. It’s another thing to accept it.” “So?” “How can we be extraordinary?” “Now, that’s something I can’t answer for you. But what I know from a long long time spent observing and meddling, is that when anyone finds something they love, something they get lost in, it is never a bad thing. That even in fantasy, it can move them and change them. It burns inside. That’s how I understand infinity. That’s why I will stay on chained to a silly rock.”
I hadn’t realized that we both walked for a good distance away from the eagle’s perch and I was half way back down the trail. I was surprised no one passed us. I felt very alone. Maybe I was supposed to be. The cold chill left the air even as the snow remained. And I was anxious to get home. I started to say thank you, but Prometheus was gone. I looked up at the gray sky not feeling happier, but accepting. Living occurs in all kinds of ways I suppose. I don’t remember hearing the eagle’s cry from the mountain that day.