Flat vs. Real — context not trends.

I think games can help?

Apple didn’t start the flat movement, but boy did they make the internet explode in all affected areas of design trolling, blogging, web design, app design, and then some. Android’s been doing it. Microsoft started a long time ago. And before that, we had very niche designers, whom I suppose predicted the arguments of the future creating flat/minimal work before there was flat.

You see, I love flat designs. I love clean, minimal, smart designs. I love realism (skeumorphic) designs too. I love when my UI mimics the beautiful things I see in real life. I love how well games, when successful, have made their art match the emotional quality of their mechanics and story.

Games have yet to take on design trends of web and mobile for design’s sake — thank god. Considering I love game design as much as any user experience, I began thinking of why games get to look how they want to look while no one argues about which trend is right or wrong, better or worse. And I began thinking of CONTEXT instead of TRENDS.

There are already countless blogs from reputable sites recapping the changes of 2013, and upcoming for in 2014 in design. Every new Dribbble post seems to be flatly designed. New start-ups are showing us beautiful ideas for vector-based icons to make our verbs universal (See NounProject.com). Other design shops are showing their portfolios with the latest trendy paralax-circular-Helvtica Neued-partially opaqued-diffused layer-designs and all companies seem to be clamoring to keep up with this latest redefined image.

Then I remembered, I have to think of context (which is what makes design great) and not the latest in stylization. A weather app, a calendar app, productivity, utilities — ok. They work well now that we see redesigns. And I’m fine with that. Some hardware products have companion apps (lots have been redesigned to flat).

My first thought is we have discovered (only by the mass movement — I do wonder if the tipping point was Apple) that flat works nicely because we see it on small screens. Tiny screens, no matter how pretty the graphics (say, Infinity Blade) the grand experience gets lost because it is simply impossible to concentrate and/or aborb the detail to become immersed — it’s a flaw of our comparatively poorly evolved eyes. We all know too much of anything on a screen, especially a small one, makes for a confusing user experience — which is what all this new software styling is about. But we’ve known about our tiny screen issues for a while. It’s why we’ve all seen actual innovations in layout, gesture functions, UI elements grouping functions or items together, clearing out UIs and our minds. We did all this before flat designs and we congratulated designers for changing how we used apps. Who remembers Facebook’s first app and their icon grid? It was ugly and no one gave a crap about choosing news feed over event calendars. Users wanted the news feed. Facebook turned around, not with flat, but putting the things users didn’t care about out of the way (off to a hidden left navigation panel), and we hailed the thumb swipe to reveal the “other stuff” as genius. And we got our news feed.

And I think that’s the annoyance of this arguement. Flat designs are quite pretty — again I’ve said how much I love them. But I like realism too. So, I’m ambivalent about which to use because flat is (usually) about style and not function. Maybe we haven’t noticed yet, but I think I’ve starting to find a deceleration of innovating our mobile experiences. We aren’t thinking about user experience as context, but as aesthetics.

We have begun, as a community of designers, to slowly and silently make shapes a standard for function — like circles for buttons or minimal icons for verbs. We are making sure only color is used to define contrast. So, when is it ok to not produce an artifact as a trend and design something because it’s beautiful in context? Shouldn’t we be figuring out, not the latest way to make something flat and invisible, but how we think of user experience and matching that beauty in art to follow a grand function in our designs?

If flat creates contrast using only color and rids itself of texture, then when can using a fuller design method be ok and not considered outdated or suddenly uglier? Meaning when can size, texture, quantity of elements, shape/form, AND color still make beautiful designs. We can’t get rid of Gestalt theories, as our brains will relay them anyway. And now, in the age of digital, animations and interactions add to contrast and/or feedback with movement and speed.

These now “older” methods of realism haven’t been forgotten in architecture or product design — and yes those examples are “hard” designs and not “soft” — but we agree (and learned in school) what makes beautiful designs.

Context. Flat makes minimizing UI easier. Realism has a better chance of cluttering our tiny screens. We all know designing isn’t easy, so let’s continue problem solving, creatively in context, without the bias of trend. As a designer I don’t want to get stuck in a trend. I want to make whatever beautiful design fits the context of a product or service. If lighting and texture help my Bang & Olufsen app look like the insanely gorgeous designs of their hardware, I’d love my iPhone to look like I’ve been transported inside that same dedicated work. And yes, I understand how subjective that sounds, and I don’t care. *Note: I don’t own B&O products because I don’t have that kind of cash, and I have no idea if they even makes apps* But I like my idea of context. I like games and how their immersive quality works, in part, because of its aesthetics, even their UI.

I believe there is something to our ideas of user experience that games have always been very good at. Lo-fi 8-bit gives us a particular feeling while AAA titles give us another. But both are not wired to trends. Games fit their context, only, and every time. Why can’t all our designs be made equal?

When you aren’t playing well

How we are okay with Free-to-Play games but shouldn’t be.

I hate (I won’t be yelling) and do not buy any free games that request or require me to purchase items to progress into any other state of the game. And even further shame be placed on games that are paid-for yet still request or require money to continue playing. Yes, this is mixed with a bit of personal principle as a game designer and player, but my focus is these requirements placed on the voluntary nature of games and the players playing, means they aren’t actual games, and if they aren’t games, what else could they be? Simple, greedy and/or obvious business objectives (Don’t worry all you business minded readers, I think games should make money — it’s all in the degees of how). Most importantly they are not and cannot be well-played games.

Bernard de De Koven wrote one of the best books on what it means to play well in games in 1973 and now renewed (2013) with a forward by the prolific game designer Eric Zimmerman (@zimmermaneric) and newer preface by the author. “The Well-Played Game” is simple, thorough, and complex all at once and if you love games, play, design, marketing, children, education, philosophy, and common sense then you have no choice but to learn everything from this book, apply, repeat.

At its simplest, “[A] well-played game becomes excellenct because of the way its being played.” So, briefly we need to understand play. De Koven continues, “I consider a game to be something that provides us with a common goal, the achivement of which has no bearing on anything that is outside the game.” And now we need to understand games.

In Eric’s forward he summarizes De Koven’s idea of a game with, “their elegant rules and challenging systems,” and play as, “the experience of the players and the community they form.” From this base, how could one call Candy Crush a game? Three reasons: Candy Crush doesn’t allow for a well-played game to occur because they require things outside the game (my money) and they take away my ability to choose when to play, when to quit, gain my own skill (which this game requires none to begin with, because you can’t get better at slot machines), and their insane success at making money can be scientifically studied through the profoundly seductive Skinner box and food pellets.

I pick on Candy Crush as a simple and most popular game to exemplify my point because when I had to either buy Continuations or wait a certain amount of time to play again, I realized right away, they took away my sense of a well- played game. I had no choice. And by definition, games are voluntary, by their means to join or quit. As well, Candy Crush asked for something outside the game — my money.

We join and quite games so ubiquitously we don’t realise when the understood affects of their volunteerism have been taken away. Begin crude example: “Hey guys I have a new drinking game, it’s hilarious, you wanna play.” My friends say, “Sure I have a case of beer right here.” Another friend says, “I can’t drink, can I play with Dr. Pepper?” I respond, “Of course, let’s all play.” As the game continues we get silly. Some players quite because they’ll get sick. Some quite because Dr. Pepper is boring. Sometimes it’s just too late at night and the game was fun while it lasted or we just ran out of beer. All these scenerios have nothing to do with the rules of the game and the game couldn’t force us into any of these situations. It’s a well-played game and we all laughed until we cried…or threw up.

You can pick your poison, it’s easy — look at the App Store and if the game is free, yet “offers in-app purchases” or worse has a price and still requires extra money. I never download these games. The only one’s I have downloaded are to be studied and I never spend real money on them.

When I play free games (digital or otherwise — tabletop for instance) or purchase them, I enter a trusted contract to enter a well-played game. If I play with other humans in-person, on a field, at a table, through wireless — if I play a single player game and my oppnent is then just the digital game and its rule system — I expect the chance to win, lose, progress, and gain skills I didn’t have before. I have options to do all those things. The game let’s me experiment with success or failure. And this makes my human or digital counterparts good players and at most provides everyone with a well-played game.

Yet, these free-to-play slot machines provide a barrier to every piece of all these chances— what we all expect a game to offer. And these games are taking advantage of our carelessness and worse — our animal nature to continue getting the food pellet. I have no way to progress in winning or gain skills unless I pay for it. My voluntary assumption and my expectation of being the hero is completely taken away or rendered useless. Instead, we are duped into entertainment for money’s sake and these digital experiences are called, games. I believe there should be a responsibility to this point.

When a company CEO or app description states, “this is the best way to give players the best experience,” what they mean to say (and I have yet to hear otherwise) is, “we couldn’t come up with a game good enough for you to pay for and play through. So, the only way we can keep making you stuff is if we find a way to squeeze money out of you and in turn make it seem like this is a well-played game. You’re welcome.” (Please don’t get me started on the Fu@*#&$ that do this for kid games, like Disney. #shameful)

And everyone’s thinking, “Well, these games are hugely popular. Everyone’s playing. Everyone’s spending millions a month just on Candy Crush. How are they not playing a game?” And that’s the rub isn’t it? Most people can feel when they are manipulated. And I can’t argue if you like being manipulated — food pellets are yummy — but the manipulation is alive, no doubt. After all, we seem to be playing a game. It’s on our smart phones. We can compete with friends. There is a common goal. There are rules and challenges. There are ways to win and lose. What I have a problem with is there is no way to make Candy Crush a well-played game. I can only voluntarily begin playing by tapping my app icon. After that all the rules created by the game require my money, not my skill, not my strategy, not even my effort. I can’t even decide how to play. All I can do is understand my choice to never play and never download shit like this again (I lied, I yelled that).

P.S. I do make an exception with some free-to-play games (and I’ve only discovered a few) that allow me to play the game to the end, gaining items or skills I want. But be mindful, these work only if I don’t have to spend 100% more time playing to get to the end because I don’t cough up lots of money to progress. Some games are conscious of this and balance progress to effort very nicely — where I feel I’m playing and being equally rewarded for my efforts. Notice I don’t talk about how difficult it is to win or lose either.

A Call To Action

The Fifth in a series of discussions about games with Gods

We got right to it. I didn’t even remember my hike up to see him this time. The day was already moving so fast. It was fitting. The sun was out and the sky was empty. I drew back on the heavy gold bow. The arrow flew true hitting directly at the large black crow. I thought I’d feel strange killing a bird I wouldn’t be eating. It’s midnight carcass glistened, the feathers refracted more light with the silver arrow throughs it’s breast. We didn’t eat it. Another arrow was quickly drawn. This time Prometheus was running in a zigzag pattern yelling for me to hit him. Of course, he knew I couldn’t. Gods move quite fast you know. But as sturdy as his bow was — a gift from his “secret” girlfriend Athena — I was feeling my ego expand. I moved my aim back and forth in short reflexive jerks. I thought, briefly, I could hit him. I was sure of it. He laughed and yelled something. I released. I can’t completely describe what it looked like, but Prometheus’ hand flew up to his eye, with such a flash it seemed to always exist there growing out his head. He caught it. He caught my arrow. He twirled it between his strong fingers sheathing it in his back hanging quiver. He hopped gently over the boulders to meet me. “Nice! that would have hit me in the eye. Well done.”

“Yeah well good catch, err, block?”

“Don’t feel bad. It’s not easy for humans to hit a god.”

“That’s comforting. Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you needed comforting.”

I smiled and sat next to his boulder fingering the bow string plucking it like a kind of guitar. The sun didn’t seem to move, but it must have been later in the afternoon by now.

“You know, when I stole Zeus’s flame there were several arrows I had to dodge just as easily.”

“What do you mean easily?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Considering the temperament of the gods, you’re right. But tell me anyway.”

“I lost on purpose.”

“So, humans are the dumb ones? Why would you do something like that?”

“It wasn’t the arrows that got me. Ares had given me simple tricks to never get hit by one. But even gods can’t move faster than light. I stood right in front of Zeus and I let him strike me down.”

“Why would you ever do that? Why didn’t you just get out of there? It was obviously an easier thing to have done?”

It was obvious I believed Prometheus. He could tell his story got me. I leaned in not realizing I was holding the bow very tight. I heaved it over to him. He caught it with one hand and it was almost instantly around his chest. He was so fast.

“So you knew you’d be punished right?”

“Of course. Zeus isn’t that big on jokes. Unless he’s playing them.”

“Ok. So I’ll ask again because at the moment you see like a bigger fool than me. Why would you ever do that?”

“What I didn’t tell you, and another thing most people don’t know is I was chased by arrows for several years. I rarely stopped moving. I was never tired. But I got bored. Once you know how to dodge a flurry of arrows, dodging them for any period of time isn’t any more interesting.”

“Let me get this straight. You doomed yourself to an eternity of torture because you were bored?”

He laughed and rubbed his side as though reliving his experience tickled his love handles.

“Fun fact about the All Father — you never know when or how he’ll punish you. I honestly didn’t think it would be so harsh. But I never thought I’d get bored with it too.”

“Yeah you can never get bored of having your liver plucked from you gut every day. I feel ya.”

I rubbed my side but I winced instead. “So let’s look at my present situation a little differently.”

“Like as if you weren’t an idiot? I can’t. It’s too easy this way.”

“No. Smart-ass. What I mean to say is even when you’ve been living a life learning things like how to dodge arrows, two things happen. One, things happen that you don’t expect. Two, you can get bored with anything when your forced into it.”

“I hated a job for a year. My entire life was unhappy because I just needed money and the opportunity came up.”

“And that’s an easy one. Some folks in your green little world have to live with retched people maybe for the sake of children. Lives are easily ruined by boredom. And many times, I’ve found, boredom leads to violence and ignorance. Mainly because people are stuck. And when you’re stuck in time, your brain gets stuck in autopilot. Why would it need to change, after all? But brains are made to adapt and change. That’s the only way they work well.”

“Not to trivialize hard knock lives, but the difference in challenge and action in game seems so similar. I know we talk about life and games a lot. But I’m…”

“Don’t apologize. The beauty of life is that games can relate and vice versa. Or maybe we can relate to life because of games. After all, most children learn social connection through fun trial and error, typically through play.”

“Well sometimes games forget about challenges leading to meaningful action. Of course, action in games isn’t required to be meaningful. After all, mowing down aliens with big guns is fun at times. But look at the difference in your story. Your challenge wasn’t dodge arrows. Your challenge was finding something to break the boredom. And your action — as stupid as it looks — became a myth of legends. How much more meaning could we ask for?”

Prometheus walked shuffling around his rocks. I stood up and followed him through the tall trees. The sun was finally beginning to settle behind the mountains and the cooler breeze was introducing the evening. As quickly as he’d caught my last arrow, he had notched and shot on through another crow. It was amazing. I didn’t feel for the bird this time. It was perfect.

“I’ve never thought of my actions as meaningful. I actually found them quite selfish. I lost a lot of my life, at least, I lost a very particular piece of it.”

He looked down at the crow, bent down slowly to pick it up, and flung it through the trees. He stood silently for a moment. I thought he had something to say. But it seemed more apparent he didn’t want to say anything. I waited. I tried to change the subject before he felt the need to say what is probably best saved for another visit.

“You know, in many games I like to play, I mean the ones I always get into, I find them all a very selfish experience. I play a lot. And maybe ten percent grab my attention. But it’s not selfish because I’m a jerk. I’m not ignoring or forgetting parts of my life. I think what happens, in a good game, is that the challenges that are created for me, drive me to meaningful action. I’m not just shooting my big gun anymore. I’m saving the universe. And when the story is told and I have friends and companions in my game, I feel responsible as if I need to complete their story too. If I am not the hero they all die.”

“But how can games always create those experiences do you think?”

“Well, maybe not all games need them, but I think when the challenges are thoughtful, when there is a reason my decision to save the world or upgrade my weapon is possible, the designer as done there job. And when those actions are provided, the game keeps you there in the story ready to discover what’s next. Maybe now I can believe in saving my companions and finish their stories because I’ve discovered that I have to.”

Prometheus seemed to agree with me without saying a word. He didn’t argue or question what I had been saying. He now fingered his gifted bow. When we glanced up at the orange sky he let out a quick exhale as if he thought of something funny. But I think he had just realized something he was still not ready to tell me.

“Sometimes I think our challenges in real Iife are brought up not because we are bored, but just to force us to forget our boredom. Like an evolutionary reflex to not let our brains stagnate. And if we act bravely then whatever changes or whatever we may lose can’t be for nothing.”

“I’m glad we talk about games Ben. I think I’m more inclined to believe that it isn’t life that is a game, but games that show you what else is happening to your life. Sure there’s no aliens, but games are your rehearsal, your created myth. I do not regret stealing that fire. I’m glad I did it.”

“See! What are stories for? Like you said, the fire was our spark. Man’s creative material. We wouldn’t have games without you. Maybe we wouldn’t know ourselves if we didn’t have the faculty to play. For whatever that’s worth.”

I walked down the mountain through the darkened canopy of pines. I didn’t feel afraid walking through the forest so late. Somehow I felt as though I could see better down the trail. I couldn’t prove it, but I’m sure Prometheus had something to do with it. The whole way down I could have sworn I heard a body’s swift swooshes though the tree tops, catching branches, keeping an eye on me.

Power In Choices

The Forth in a series of discussions about games with Gods

Shit the chill was hardening my bones. It must have been more humid because according to my trusty iPhone, the outside temp read only 30. The breeze was slight and I wasn’t really ready to talk — my legs felt the urge for going. I wasn’t sure why I was making my way to Prometheus today. My feet were cold and the rocks I used for support seemed colder than the air on my face. I forgot my gloves which is normal and always moronic.

Somehow as I made my way up the hidden trail, Prometheus seemed to make it much more comfortable for me. I must have added 1000 feet to my elevation and I busted through the dense fog to find the bright sun around him, like a battle arena. My nose defrosted and I took off my hat exposing a nice mesh of bed head.

Where was Prometheus? Usually, it’s as though he knows I’m coming up, he’s waiting for me. But not today. I sat around for a moment warming on a rough boulder and closed my eyes. I’m not sure how long I napped, but I woke up to rustling trees. The tall pines next to me were all moving their crowns on marching kings. I quickly turned around to find Prometheus pounce from above. He didn’t tackle me, but just stood there and smiled.

“What the hell was that?”

“I think I’m getting better at this.”

“At what?”

“Being sneaky. Athena taught me when she was here with us last time.”

“Are y’all dating now?”

“Ah, we don’t really do that sort of thing.” He said as if I should have known. “Where have you been anyway?”

“Right, I know. It’s been a long time.”

“So what happened?” “Lots of things I don’t really feel like talking about.” I turned away to walk slowly toward his rock.

“Suit yourself.”

I turned back to face him and he had disappeared as no trees rustled this time. So, I faced his rock cricking my neck and there he was, standing right behind me smiling.

“Yes! I did it again. This is great.”

“Yea, great game man.”

“So are you jealous or just being a baby?”

“Let’s say both.”

“You really aren’t making me want to stick around.” “Um, it’s not really up to you. Your rock is right here.” “Well, I’m not scheduled for another liver eating for a couple more hours. So, I can kinda do what I want right now.”

“Great.” “Maybe I’ll throw you off this mountain.”

I sat down crossing my arms like a pouting three year old.

“So what’s the deal today?”

“I’m not sure what I’m doing today.” “That’s ok. Why do you think you need to?”

“Cause I feel useless, but yet I have a feeling there is something I need to say.” “You can just sit there quietly and think about it. That’s why I brought you some sun.”

“Thanks.” “Most people find a quiet space to find visit their mind. But I can see how difficult that is now a days for your generation — the Information Age as it’s called..”

I didn’t argue. I sat there looking around the small area of rocks, realizing I couldn’t see passed the tall ponderosas. In fact, I couldn’t see the trail I came in on. I was feeling a little shut in suddenly thinking of Prometheus’s haunting smile didn’t help my mood.

“Can you tell I’m hiding you?” “I was picking up on it.” “Want to know why?” “Because you’re crazy and feel like torturing me?” “Precisely.”

I wasn’t expecting that. I actually laughed a little, not really getting it, so Prometheus walked next to me and sat down without making a sound. He always seemed to float when he moved. Think of Leoglas walking atop the snow on the Pass of Caradhras in Lord of The Rings. *geek moment*

“When you play a game what do you think is your most favorite realization?” “I think when I forget that all the choices I made brought me to some profound moment of the story and the whole time I thought it was all me.”

“So you found how all the story and mechanics actually work together to create an experience and not a technically defined moment of a game?”

“I suppose that’s it, yeah. Kind of a philosophical moment of the game. And it’s always unexpected.”

“Now what happened when I took your choice away? I hid your trail? I hunted you?”

“I was scared. Then I thought you were weird.”

“But I changed your feeling without changing the world. I didn’t introduce a bloody monster, I took away your choices.”

“Yes you did. But games do that all the time. Some games actually restrict play to a fault.” “Well, is that because restricting play is the issue or that someone didn’t design the experience well enough to justify the control?”

“Well, I guess it is the fundamental quality of designed control — like affecting my feeling without me realizing it. It was smooth.”

“Gods are always smooth,” he winked.

“Really?”

“Here’s my point, my little human. Real life is the best Game Master. Because you must live through it, the idea of having anything happen or nothing at all, allows you to naturally change your emotional state. In a way, it’s always a little bit surprising or at least unnoticed. For instance, you see a little child laugh on the sidewalk and you laugh, you take a sip of coffee and it suddenly taste better and as you walk into work you sit down a little more ready to make games because you are also thinking of that little child.”

“But then the boss walks in.” “Sure, unexpected, to ruin your day. But today was the one to be ruined whether you wanted or not. And your super brain allows you to move your reality around as necessary — always interesting and always the right way (maybe not the way you like) to affect your emotions and outlook of that moment or that day or that week, and so on.”

“This doesn’t happen in games. It’s as though they either try to stick to traditional modes of scare-through-shock, or they oversimplify and it’s not scary at all.”

“I’m not talking about horror only.”

“I know it’s just an easy example.”

I was remembering the brilliant game, Dead Space, because it’s a great survival horror, but it’s the survival part that is so engaging and bloody difficult. For a simple example, (other games have done the same) in Dead Space you have very limited ammo and the enemies are moderately difficult right off the bat. You are a n00b placed in a scary world that doesn’t care you’re new. That adds suspense without adding a game mechanic.

“Then think fundamentally.”

“One must manage choice.”

“And what else?”

“The choices must be something that affects the situation right away or not at all.”

“Does the choice have to be in the moment?” “No. I guess not. I think it just needs to be obvious to what the outcome will be.” “So try again. What did I do to you today?” “You took away my trail. As a designer you knew I’d need to leave the mountain and without letting me know, you scared me for a moment which made me then, realize how I couldn’t get away if I needed or when I would wanted.”

“I placed you in a story I wanted to tell before you could know. And the realization is how your brain modified it’s response to your new reality.”

“I see it now. I don’t have to worry about making a game scary or funny or thrilling. I have to bring the player into that experience as if there is no other way to go.” “Exactly. How did you feel when you were walking up here today?” “I’ve been unhappy. I didn’t know what to talk about, but I knew I had something to say.” “Your life is one big example of what I just did to you. It’s what we just talked about with games. When you so easily feel scared or confused or depressed, it’s because your mind feels as if it’s freedom is taken away. Maybe there is so much to handle it can’t decide on a particular solution so it can’t even understand it’s situations.”

“This is why everyone should go to therapy.” I laughed playing with my ring. “Well, most people don’t think too hard at how to bring themselves to the “light” — as it’s called. What you can learn from your real life is that games should be designed to move a player to a point in the story. When your cohorts argue about what games should be — story, mechanics, graphics, etc — it’s rarely debated how a game must use them all simultaneously. It’s usually debated on which particular piece was implemented poorly.”

I realized in Dead Space that just running out of ammo wasn’t enough. The environment I was forced to survive through, couldn’t have told a different story. The atmosphere, the sound, the silence, the combat, all of it made that experience exactly how it needed to be. Otherwise I wouldn’t play.

I thought of another example that as a totally different experience — Limbo. It’s a puzzle game really. Except I’m the protagonist and the puzzles control my choice and even in it’s linearity, the game wouldn’t have been successful without the designed experience with the physics engine and audio so finely tuned to the puzzle’s mechanics and my providing a feeling of need — a need to make it through the story to know what was happening to me (my character).

“But who’s designing my life in front of me?” “What’s tricky being alive — and I’m sorry us gods started it — is that you are the game master and the player. We could have continued to intervene and play the omniscient role. But that actually ended worse for you.”

Prometheus actually turned away in that moment tilting his head to the ground. I thought he was trying to hide some tears. I think he misses the more active roles of Gods. He was sorry for something and he wasn’t about to say what — not to me anyway.

“You have to understand little human, games are not always for entertainment or escaping. You’ve experienced a story so vividly that you don’t register touching a mouse or a keyboard. You left your room and traveled to a placed only a game could take you. And you came out the hero. There aren’t many times or many ways that can happen so easily in modern day.” “You’ve got that right.” “So keep trying. Don’t stop designing something meaningful.” “But making a controller for a robot isn’t so meaningful.” “Maybe the story isn’t there yet, but you can imagine how you want the best experience to be — even when it’s limited. Remember, people can create stories while they play. Maybe you can give them the tools.” “I know. You’re right. I just want something bigger. I want to make an impact.” “Your young good sir. You are learning. Do you think you could make that impact to your specs right this moment?” “No.” “Exactly. You have the ideas but not the execution, yet. Life doesn’t give you all the answers right off the bat. Why should you succeed instantly?” “Because the ideas are exciting. They are exciting enough to make that reality feel within reach.” “What did I start out saying to you today?” “Ha! That I change my emotions and my reality based on how my day is going and what experiences I have at any given time.” “You can make the story you want — you are the game master.”

The pines rustled behind me and a single tree bent sideways out of the way like an old troll to expose my trail. I took this as my cue to leave. But I sat in the sun for a little while longer thinking about not just games, but what life challenges present themselves so obvious in our games. Prometheus sat silently letting the student ponder the wisdom.

“You’re like a snarky Aristotle basking in your infinite wisdom aren’t you?” “Ha. Aristotle! That guys was full of air. A talker.”

I laughed at that one as I got on my feet and walked down the trail. As soon as I passed the threshold of the dirt path and Prometheus’ hidden plot, the clouds moved all around me, the freezing wind rushed back, the pines shook, and a chill ran up my spine as I paused looking around this place. I smiled. Prometheus is such a jerk.

Regaining Time

The Third in a series of discussions about games with Gods 

Starting the trail was not easy. The high winds and dense fog were the beginnings of a storm rushing over the foothills, but I wanted to talk to Prometheus today. I’m not sure why - just felt more necessary. This is the first time I’ve walked up to visit him twice in a week. The snow started with small blades of ice that melted on contact feeling like a light drizzle, but in the freezing cold. Which, by the way, is a ridiculously annoying feeling like having having sand in every place you don’t want.

While I stumbled up the trail constantly pulling my hat farther down my head and over my ears, the weather was actually letting up. Strange. The higher you go the worse it usually gets. When I found Prometheus’s rock it was bright, sunny, warm, and looking around I swear we were in our own bubble. The fog stopped around 100 yard radius around where we stood like some invisible force field holding back the storm below.

“Well that’s at least top 3 coolest things I’ve ever seen.” “I thought you like it.” “Why’d you do it?” “I figured you were coming by again and with the weather down there, I didn’t think it’d be very comfortable talking for so long.” “You get your liver eaten every day. Is comfort really a concern?” “Hey that eagle left a while ago. I still like the sunshine too ya know.” “Ok. That’s fair….hippie.”

It was so quiet up there. If one of us wasn’t talking, the air so still, you’d think nothing was alive, not even the earth. So I was startled easily. I heard a small crack of branches and a rustle of small rocks tumbling behind me. I turned quickly and wouldn’t you know it, jumping down from a small tree (I didn’t even realize I passed her), Athena.

“Uuh. Hi.” What else do you say when you feel about as smart as a door knob?

A: “Hello to you. Prometheus told me these conversations could be fun. So I thought I’d join you. Surprise.” She raised her arms to shrug her shoulders as if to say, “this is what you get.” It was fine by me. “Really? Well, this is quite the cameo. Are you a gamer too?” A: “Well, sure. I hunt. That is all a game - tinged with a little necessity. Well, for humans. I don’t really need to eat. But you get the idea.”

“Sorry, P. You just got bumped to 4th place.”

He smiled and jumped down from his rock, swung his hands and clapped them together.

P: “So, what’s on your mind today?”

“Nothing too particular. There is so much going on with normal day-to-day thinking from work to what to read to what to play - it gets difficult just to make a choice. And then there is so much nay-saying about technology and our kind of, ‘high intelligent’ thinking that some believe we are all loosing our humanity - of sorts.” A: “Sorry, but I can see that a bit. But I don’t think the argument is coming from the right place. It’s not the stuff’s fault. Zeus didn’t have a problem with the fire that Prometheus stole…” P: “Um, I eternally beg to differ.” A: “Let me finish. Zeus didn’t care about the fire. Fire is everywhere. It’s how people use it that scared the crap out of Zeus. And I don’t mean humans use it to cook or burn bridges. The ideas, given, were dangerous. Prometheus gave humans the ‘means of life’ and that pissed Zeus off something awful.” P: “Yeah. My bad.” He chuckled rolling his head because he actually didn’t care about Zeus one bit.

A: “It’s always easy to see the tangible pieces and blame them. Violent video games make kids aggressive. Not playing outside is somehow less human or less childlike. Hello! I hunt. I gave you hunting. How violent is that?”

Prometheus laughed out loud and I couldn’t help but see her point. Plus, I couldn’t stop staring at her and listening to anything she had to say. I guess gods have a way of entrancing people.

“What is strange is that I have so many things I want to do in a single moment, that I don’t choose anything. Or I choose the most passive one - watch a show, fall asleep. It’s kind of pitiful.” P: “Agreed. Sorry.”

I smirk at him and I think I did the one eyebrow-up-thing. I didn’t think I could do that.

“But look what happens anytime someone’s engaged with an activity. Suddenly the world is full of interesting things. I get opened up a little, ready to absorb more. I start looking at the world differently. Isn’t that strange? Games do that.”

A: “You know, when ever we used to meddle in terrestrial affairs we always turned it into a game. But we actually all had so many places to go and people to see, that games became, um, what’s the word?” P: “Repetitive?”

A: “Yes, but that’s not what I’m looking for. But man humans are SO alike.”

P: “Monotonous?”

A: “Way to go thesaurus boy.”

P: “Unimaginative?” A: “Yes! We all starting realizing that the stories were the same. That really nice old blind man, Homer, kind of solidified all we did so there wasn’t much more to keep on and on. More of you started to read and write - stories were passed down and always retranslated and retold and just like that funny game, Password, everyone got their own version in the end.”

P: “Close your mouth man.”

“Sorry, I’m just not sure where this is going.” A: “Right. I forget humans are on schedules.”

She walked closer to me brushing my shoulder as she passed and I had to follow her. My eyes followed hers. My head could have turned all the way around and I wouldn’t have noticed. Prometheus hopped around rocks as we all walked through the sunshine.

A: “The reason why those stories survived is not because they are timeless in that they survived for all time. It’s that, even in their fantasy, there are no anachronisms. Humans and their cultural constructs all evolve with you. How can they not? How can someone say, ‘the technology of the time is wrong for humans’, when there could be no other time, whatsoever, that this moment was put there for technologies invention? This is why I don’t ever define games so simply - or anything for that matter. When things all get clumped together they lose their soul.”

P: “Yeah. Remember when we talked about art and how defining it so easily seemed wrong - in your gut? That’s a result of clumping. That’s making the world too easy and then never really thinking deeper about how something is created or what it’s made of. This is why, say, violent video games can be used as a political tool. People stop thinking or really, learning. So, they just listen and react. They are actually much more passive than they realize.”

A: “That’s too bad.”

P: “It is. So when you think to much and you can’t make a choice on what to do, play a game - with yourself.”

“I’m single. I can do that a lot.”

P: “Seriously? Sex jokes. Gods, I wish Athena could still shoot arrows at humans.”

A: “Manners please.”

“Sorry. That’s embarrassing. I’m not used to a third party.”

P: “Ok, back to it. So you play a game. Even if it’s for only half an hour. I know for a fact that you learn something in that short time playing a game as you do when you read one chapter of a good book. In the game you may have learned to problem solve a very difficult task in just the right way, which before, held you up. Something in your brain learned before you even tried again. When you read a book chapter I will bet you’ve imagined places and settings that could never be put into pictures correctly and you got lost in the moment.”

“Well yes. Exactly like that.”

A: “You see? Even in all the distractions, in all the choices, whichever you make seems to benefit you if you stop to notice. Maybe if everyone could perform such a task, then just about anything you do could never be described as ‘less human’ or ‘childlike’.”

P: “When we stopped meddling it was because the fire was a choice. We felt unimaginative because we noticed you were handling life pretty well by yourselves. You were the imaginative ones. Even when you struggle with not knowing or understanding harder and harder lessons, we knew you had to go it alone.”

“That’s encouraging and all. But how can we get value out of things if everything we do is considered, ‘ok’? There has to be good and bad, right? That’s what you said the other day. That’s how you created infinity.” P: “Good memory.”

“Um, you remember everything a god tells you. If Julia Roberts came up to me and told me a story, I tell you now, I could retell that story exactly how she told me.”

A: “Ah, celebrities. Modern day goddesses.”

“Sorry.”

P: “Except for that Julia Roberts thing, you’re right. There has to be good and bad. There is always room for judgement and stereotypes and criticisms. But most people find those words offensive. I don’t. Even the gods form opinions based on safe ways the world works. But to make accurate opinions one must know how things work to begin with. And I find today, because of all the things one can know about, people can’t know everything. They can only comment by comparing something they do know to something they don’t. Hence, the reactions only.”

A: “Prometheus is right….”

P: “Ha Ha. You heard it here folks.”

A: “Shut up. He’s right because games are made of open worlds. When you live in one that is much more ‘good and bad’, games give you an environment to experiment. Maybe slaying dragons isn’t as realistic as showing confidence in your ideas when your boss questions you at work. But when I hunt a different animal on a different day, I remember things - not even consciously - on how to be a better hunter. I learned a strategy I didn’t even know was there. When you play games, you practice. And if you’re constantly learning then all the choices you’ve got at your finger tips can be decided upon as good or bad.”

P: “Stabbing a dragon with a sword is cool. Stabbing your boss with a sword is not. But fainting left, shielding yourself from an attack, turning your head to shout your ideas with magical accuracy might turn some heads and others will get to thinking. And you’ll realize you’ve won the game.”

We stopped right outside the force field holding the fog back. The sun was still out. It didn’t seem to have moved and I was not looking forward to the walk home. For one, Athena was still there. And two, Athena was still there. I said goodbye turning to face the cold mist and they each waved me off. They looked like silly best friends just hanging out casually on a mountain. As I reached the edge of the mist the sky was instantly dark. It was night time. I had been up there all day and they let the lights stay on. I walked very slowly back down the trail hoping a mountain lion was not into a late dinner. But I kept thinking about what Athena and Prometheus had explained to me. They weren’t telling me everything I did was great or good or worthwhile. They made sure I paid attention to the things I want to know about and for the things I don’t - I should learn if necessary. Sometimes I take so much so seriously. I think I need to relax, enjoy the mystery and the evolution of all the choices I have in my life and to let the games begin.

Understanding Fire

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.

Real Life As A Better Game

The first in a series of discussions about games with Gods

It was a great hike. The wind was far too powerful to keep going on the open trail. My hood wouldn’t stay put and I don’t like when my hair gets pushed around. The trees were helping a little. So, I found myself making the difficult way back to Prometheus. It had been four weeks since we first met. Aside from the, I talk to a gods thing, the strangest occurrence of today’s visit was that I finding him standing up. He wasn’t chained, there was no eagle gnawing at his side. He just stood straight and tall. Staring up at the clouds with a ever so slight smile.

“I’m confused. I thought…”

“Right. I should be chained up is really like a good camp fire story.”

“Well that seems a little dramatic?” I could never do that one eyebrow up move.

“What did I tell you?”

“So far lot of things.”

“You’re grouchy.” “Well, it’s cold, it’s Sunday, the wind is particularly annoying.”

“Is that all? Let’s do something about it then.” He briefly closed his eyes without turning away from me.

The wind stopped and the air grew quiet. Even the clouds stopped to listen to what he was about to say. I don’t know how often this happens to you, but when you some ominous feeling coming over you, it’s usually because something profound is going to be revealed or lightning will strike or the monster rears it’s ugly mug or you get “that phone call.” At least, that’s what the movies tell me. But I don’t talk with gods much so I felt this would be a particularly interesting moment. I wasn’t cold. My hair now sat quietly on my head and Prometheus winked.

“Better? Can you concentrate now?” “Thanks.”

“So, what did I tell you?”

“You mean about over dramatic deities?” “Yep.”

“That you all are avid gamers. Which I find really weird.” “Well, gamers is a fairly contemporary title. But we do love games.”

“I get it. Except for the dramatic part.”

“Let’s take a very broad example. I stole something important once. A very very long time ago.” “Fire…creativity….”

“Right right. And for stealing I get punished. Just like all the little kids on the planet. They learn from parents, they learn lessons the more they make mistakes. Being changed to a rock and having your liver eaten every day is pretty serious don’t you think?”

“So, the moral is an antic, a gag?” “No, it’s not a joke. It’s dramatic because we learn from real things.” “But my parents didn’t chain me to a rock when I stole from Wal-mart.” “Hey, if we felt like playing the karma card, I have a feeling Wal-mart had it coming. What I mean to tell you is that we play games with you. We make the seemingly mundane important through a much more interesting story. This is why we, the dramatic deities, love your games so much.”

“Because we fake shoot people for more than a billion life times worth of hours?” “Seriously, a billion life times?”

“That was just one game, and I’m fairly certain it was much longer.”

“Ok. To answer your question, though. In a sense, yes.” “You’ll need to justify that one a little more for the press back home.”

He walked around his blood stained rock. The smell had dissipated thankfully. The air was perfectly still and I didn’t want to move a muscle. I looked up at the sun quickly, bringing my hand above my brow and as I looked back down, Prometheus was squatting atop his rock in a purple hoodie and jeans, hands in his pockets, smiling at the ground.

“You don’t really want to shoot real people. Shooting fake people makes more sense. Everyone knows that. Everyone knows you don’t hurt people unless you are already fucked in the head. We like when humans play these games, any game, because you are turning real life into a lesson that real life can’t always provide.” “So, can I say god made me do it?” “Oh, sarcasm is my favorite form of wit.”

“Ok, I get it. I do. But how could real life teach me a lesson about shooting people. I’m pretty sure I’d get arrested for trying.”

“Don’t be so literal. All you over reasonable people are so literal. It was nice when you just believed in us and we played you like marionettes.” “That’s comforting.”

He swiped his hand through the air, brushing my comment away.

“Of course, games aren’t telling you to be ok with shooting people. Playing is much more fundamental than that. If stories make us learn through reading and imagination, games add their own ethos with interaction that can deepen the experience.”

“I don’t think shooting my friends with virtual guns is a deep experience.”

“Not exactly. But it does make each of you laugh in your living room. Each of you goes home remembering the conversations of the night and the funny time when you performed the perfect head shot. Did you know you learn sophisticated problem solving and team work? And I said ‘can’. Games, ‘can’, provide an additional ethos of experience that other high arts can. This is why games don’t have to be art. They can just be games.”

“Well, I agree with that. I can’t stand when games try to align themselves or prove themselves worthy by a shallow definition of art. Hell, I know some really dumb guys from college days that call art, ‘art for art’s sake.‘ Drives me nuts.”

“I agree. And they will have a rude awakening someday when they have created nothing. But even still, we, the dramatic deities, tried for a really really long time to make deeper experiences with our bloody rocks and mythic fire. As we went along, it started to just be a game for us. We were needing to entertain ourselves. And it turned out, as we drove ourselves away from your lives, humans were very good at trying to find meaning all alone.”

“Maybe we were doing the proverbial, ‘growing up.’ But we disagree all the time. We don’t seem much more in-tune with one another. Have you seen our presidential elections?” “Oh, you are very right. Games aren’t going to save you. But there is no denying how easily they are found to change you, to make one think, not just about how cool games look, but if they can make you feel powerful. When, at the end, when you’ve won, you have a little more confidence in taking on the world.”

“Well that seems a little much. I don’t think I can take over the world.” “Ok, but you feel accomplished don’t you? Do you feel like something just hit you, yet you may not know what it was?” “Actually with some games, yes. I’ve dreamed in games before, like there was something more to being awake than my job or buying groceries.” “And I will guarantee that you’ve had this experience when you finish a really good book.” “Absolutely. Who hasn’t read Lord of The Rings for cryin’ out loud?”

“And you see, you said it yourself, ‘some games’. Not all games are good ones. Not all books are great ones. And you overly literal folks like to hear the opinions of the very few.”

“We can’t all learn everything about everything for ourselves.” “I’m not asking that. I’m merely pointing out that taking real life into your games is something that has happened since we starting meddling.” “You mean we like when games make us think of real life questions.” “Exactly. You don’t shoot fake people for the sake of shooting people. When you take on the enemy, you make very big decisions on how to do so. The nice part about games is that you get to practice for the real world - you act out, as it were. Some like guns or magic or elves because the story behind their fantasy are lenses into your life.”

“You know what games are not fun. Gratuitous ones.” “They aren’t fun?” “Well, I mean they aren’t remembered. They aren’t thought of as being important. We get moved by the thoughtful ones, right? But our very entitled media will always remember the gratuitous ones. And you know what? Those count for about 1% of games. Did you know that? 1%.”

“I actually didn’t know that. But I can see why it’s frustrating. Can you see why we stopped meddling?”

“Because no one likes to feel out of control?” “Most people don’t. But more importantly, we, in the sky, all discovered how much more meaningful it is for you humans to live out your lives.” “That was very nice of you. But playing games isn’t the answer to it all.” “Oh, I’m sure they’re not. My only real point is that games are important when you allow yourself to notice that real life is played out all the time from when you were a kid to the last breath. If we could give you all more ways to think about your life, to feel important, or even just have some laughs with your friends, then I would steal that fire over and over again.”

Prometheus had me leave quickly. He could hear the calling of his eagle, and I didn’t disagree that I wouldn’t want to see what was soon to happen after he lied back down on this rock - what happens every day because he was a thief. His hoodie melted away, the wind picked up, and I carefully, but quickly, jogged back down into town wondering what his fire was for.

I believe Prometheus didn’t steal fire. He stole something that the gods kept over us. Control. Fire was our ideas and imaginations. Our stories were born out of that tiny flame. So, I’m thankful. Because he would do it again. I think to Prometheus, he was playing a game all along as a young punk kid, pulling that wool over Zeus’s eye.

As I got to the bottom of the trail head, I could have sworn, I heard an echoing chuckle coming down from his rock. I smiled all the way back home.

Why We’ll Never Predict the Future: A Love Letter

My first post. On this day. At this point in life. If the universe could piss me off like no other, I’m the only one that can beat that degree of heat of my own accord. Know the feeling? And somehow, on a day of trying to design games (with some semi-skillful process), to listening to the office-nerds wax thought experiments of death and the singularity, I’m worried how I won’t punch through a wall or sit in my chair with tears rolling down my face.

Have you ever been in love? Do you remember the first time? I don’t care if you were 15 years old or 32 like me. We have both fallen into the most blissful exactitude. Feeling so natural it surprises you and its weight scares you simply because you’re not sure it’s allowed or that you deserve such warmth, that maybe one heart can’t take it. That you are blessed to have something no one else does. For everything about that girl...or boy...changed you without asking, there was no decision, no thoughtful rebuke towards your emotions. You love them - in the words of my favorite sonnet, “without complexities or pride”. Oh, how I wish I were a poet. Your entire life becomes more important. Every new thought or decision somehow takes place inside the image of another, in your shadow, yet somehow together.

Then, it happens. It feels as though a rug is pulled from under you. Maybe not a rug, not that immediate, but more of a taut string pulled painfully tight because someone’s seemingly moving farther away (though it may not be true - but that’s the fear isn’t it?). And that string is some wound harmonic piece of soul that connected your heart to the other without effort.

Suddenly, as easily as she moved her reality into mine and hopefully mine into hers, the idea of losing that ethereal touch seems so frightening, so possible, the decisions of walking down the street, drinking that usual cup of coffee on my walk to work, to dreams of a home or decorating your bedroom, to traveling experiences that will only have sunshine if the other’s face is found amazed by the things discovered in the mysteries of the world.

All these emotional qualities adjust in some asymmetry that understanding the human condition able to look into the future, by creating some intimate AI (artificial intelligence) that takes over the world is so insulting and useless that instead of being mad at the universe for fucking with my happiness (which I understand is truly my fault), the fools that believe human imitation is possible makes me want to punch them in the face. Right through their fucking head.

It’s not a poetic solution. I’m not sure why I’m thinking of such a thing. Aren’t we the irrational beings? It’s the continued example of how a mind works so spontaneously, with such emotional quality, that dumbing myself down to work as a machine, to predict the future and somehow describe it as a “good thing” makes me want to irrationally punch them in the face. Seems simple enough.

I’m sure being in love makes us soar - I read it in another poem once - that’s obvious, as it can make us sink, but the decisions we make in the emotions we live in are the pieces of humanity we don’t get to compute or categorize. I’m betting each of your stories, of the people you love, can be described so differently we’d laugh at our misunderstanding of the whole thing.

So today, instead of drinking this bottle of wine (half empty already) to take the edge off, I seem to be conflicted in not just understanding the difference between glass half empty or full, but in the outcome of this stretched soul-string between her and I could be the most beautiful revelation of my life. I realize that because of my emotional quality of this first time experience, if I can’t predict my future (though I desperately wish I could sometimes) a machine with math sure the hell couldn’t. And in all honesty, what would my human condition be if it did? What’s worth living then? It could be for her. We could say, me. But the idea is my horribly cheese-muffin metaphor of experience.

Time is made of, or only worthwhile, because of our experiences. So my first post. On this day. At this point in life. I’m mad. Not at her. I could cry at a cup of coffee. And somehow all I can imagine is wanting to punch some fortune teller in the face. What do you do to understand your experiences? Our feelings seem to make us into hypocrites. Maybe it’s just me and the wine, though nothing seems different from walking home today. Maybe sadness creates madness. Maybe love makes us afraid. Would you want to know the future or live yourself into it - filling it with experience? Is it worth taking all what I’ve described, in the stomach?

I say yes, freely. Because I love her more than anything I’ve encountered in my life.