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Joe Bill (c) 4/11/01
During the time of my youth, my passion was video games. I can still recall the four bit glory of the Atari, with its onyx controller, and the singular red button that rested upon it. I can recall sitting down for a relaxing game of Pitfall!, or maybe some Star Fighter, or if I got really bored, maybe some Missile Command. The graphics had a chunky charisma about them, but the graphics weren�t the emphasis. Two- player compatibility was its forte, and who could forget the first exciting game of Pong? Riveting it was, bouncing that tiny ball in between what resembled the yellow concrete stops used in parking lots.
Soon however, such glory as was the Atari�s became Nintendo�s. It was apparent from popping in Mario and Duck Hunt that a new video game wave was forming. The Nintendo brought about another wave of addiction as games like Mega Man, Zelda, and Final Fantasy came along in promenade on the console. Each game had its title bad character, and the forces of good were to triumph over those forces. Whether it be Dr. Wily, Gannon, or Kefka, the objective was basically the same. The Nintendo eventually took its spot among the antiquated with the advent of the Super Nintendo.
The Super Nintendo is perhaps where I spent the most of my video gaming experience. The graphics were palatable, and the variety of games to choose from was immense. There were many reliable titles from the prior Nintendo that could simply be re-done, and the name the game carried would be enough to guarantee success. Here I met up with Final Fantasy Three, a game that encompassed a great amount of my time. I discovered Metroid, which had had a face lift from the old Nintendo. Zelda made a return visit, along with Mario. I became immersed in many of these games, as it was nice to delve into a world that made sense; a world that clearly was without the ambiguities of life.
It wasn�t until I no longer had time for the distraction of video games that I came to realize why many of these games have such a magnetic pull. My escape from the reality of daily existence was anchored in those games. For a brief moment, I became Link, or I became Mario, (along with that crazy, crazy Yoshii) or Mega Man. Now and then, I would fall down those notorious bottomless pits that video games seem to be fond of, but if I did, I always had plenty of lives left, plenty of time to complete the board. The goal was always the same, beat the game. Finish it off, so the ending would be apparent and everything would be tightly wrapped up and completed. Regardless of whatever other limitations were applied, the goal was apparent, there was a discernable path, and the clues were abundant and perspicuous.
Life however, was much less lucent. If you were lost in a video game, the solution was easy enough, hit the select button, and pull up the map. If you needed direction, all you had to do was find the magic compass, which was usually well marked upon the map. The forces of evil were never so immutable that a magic sword or a well placed arrow wouldn�t dispatch them. There weren�t any capricious events that weren�t accompanied by a portent. The main character was never benighted, he was always well aware of right and wrong. Yes, life was an entirely different ball game... or was it?
It was evident that both in video games and life, it was nice to have direction. Many people complained when Myst was released, because it thrust them in a bizarre world with few clues as to what ones agenda was supposed to be. Those that liked Myst found the clues to be sufficient enough to find that hidden purpose. In order to play Myst, it was necessary to abandon the typical realm of video gaming, and to try to assemble obscure pieces of a puzzle to solve the big picture. Some wanted the foregone conclusion of knowing what to expect, others didn�t.
It gradually became apparent to me that I squarely fit into the category of not wanting the conclusion of the game. Direction wasn�t that important, rather, figuring out the clues and the nature of the strange world around me was. I carried in my perception of life into the game, and played it utilizing similar logic that I do in life. I got stuck many times, but clarity was just around the corner. It was necessary to deviate from my perceptions of what I thought I was supposed to do, and consider other possibilities; other outcomes.
I noticed in life however, many people wanted those foregone conclusions much like the video game. They wanted to know what would become of them when they perished; what actions would they be held accountable for? They were looking for that magic compass, and for many of them, to be told that a particular compass was indeed magic, was good enough.
The problem with their compasses was that they weren�t magic at all, they were just a re-done version of the false lode stone that came before. To ask these people to consider that their compass could be wrong was futile because if it were wrong, it would mean they had been heading in the wrong direction in life, and some changes would have to be made. Of course, change in itself is not that frightening, but being in the middle of life without a compass is more than some people can bear because that would mean they were right back at square one.
Is square one that frightening? Is it that difficult to admit there are some things to which we are ignorant? Does life afford enough clues to make a conclusion about the nature of phenomenon that are not provable?
Life isn�t as simple as some computer code diffused with absolutes. For each absolute in life, there are extenuating circumstance in which these absolutes don�t hold. If it isn�t absolute all the time, it isn�t absolute, it is relatively absolute. Though many of us try to find the select button, so that we can take a glance at the map, we can�t seem to find it. Life only makes sense if we find a means of making it make sense to us, though for all of perceptions and the absolutes we build upon, our very premise could well be flawed and our direction could be the opposite from what it should.
If we attempt to promote our �direction� as truth, we have only succeeded in undermining the journey of the other man, for what he considers truth has as much force as what anyone else considers truth. Maybe the difference can be attributed to the evaluation of the odds by the beholder. Maybe some things were more likely to have happened in somebody else�s mind than in others. If this high regard is to be held, the evidence in question should be able to withstand scrutiny, and a consensus shouldn�t be hard to reach. If a consensus is hard to reach, it only demonstrates the inadequacy of the evidence in question, and shouldn�t ever be used to prove a position, because it obviously can�t speak loudly enough to prove the conclusion. Why can�t we just have a world like Mario�s?
Life unfortunately isn�t Mario World. In Mario World, if you fall down a pit, you lose a life and you try again, hopefully overcoming the impasse that blockaded you before. In life, it seems some fall down bottomless pits of belief, and lose seconds of their lives, and sometimes life itself to an all-encompassing belief that permeates their existence, only there is no extra life for them after the fact.
As for me, I will turn on my video game system, and for a brief while imagine that all of life makes perfect sense, and that all conclusions are clear cut along a well defined path. When I turn it off, I don�t expect any magic compass to be laying around, and I don�t expect Yoshii to be standing there impatiently. Instead, I will go out into the Myst-like world, and try to make sense of what I see, full well knowing that I am only playing the odds with the evidence given, because there is no smoking gun.
Joe Bill
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