When it comes to playing video games I’ve always considered myself to be easily wound up. I curse like a sailor, sulk like a toddler and am prone to shouting horrendous things at Baby Peach as she overtakes me (yet again) on the final lap of a Mirror Grand Prix. So it’s fair to say that I’m susceptible to some game induced frustration. But to be honest I’ve come to accept it and kind of cherish it as part of the whole gaming experience. Yet I’ve never really considered how my gaming frustration is seen by others.
Well usually when I get irritated by games I’m playing them alone. It’s confounding, when I play with friends I’m positively zen, yet if you were to see me at home; the gnashing teeth, the clenched jaw, the crazed look in my eyes, the shouting, the swearing, the slamming of controllers around the living room, you would wonder – what on earth is the point?
Well I recently received a little enlightenment. The other day I heard my girlfriend shouting, swearing and hammering the sofa. She was playing No More Heroes on the Wii, ranking up against Destroy Man. It went a little like this:
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I’m going to kill you!”
“You’re fucking dead!”
“Why are you not dying?”
“No! That is so unfair. C’mon…”
and so on, until she eventually beat him and a lot of dancing and finger pointing ensued.
I listened in rapt attention. It sounded ridiculous – how did she get so worked up? It’s not as if she’s a hardcore gamer, more of a Sunday afternoon one. Immediately I thought, is that what I sound like when I play games? Is my frustration that ridiculous?
The answer is simple. Yes. Certainly. Beyond all trace of doubt. And from an external viewpoint getting frustrated with video games is completely ludicrous. But what really caught my attention as her beam katana swooped down to miss again was the uncanny similarity her changing emotions had with the Kübler-Ross grief model (bear with me).
As the battle ebbed and flowed there was denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Not to mention a whole process of rationalisation that concluded that the game must be broken and the eventual delight that came with her victory.
It occured to me that it was all there. In a few fleeting moments that game forced her to experience all those sensations. It wasn’t simply frustration, it was an entire range of emotions. How many times have I experienced those flowing tides of elation and depression as a games turned on a single push of a button?
I realised that what I always considered to be an annoying side effect of games turned out to be nothing more than proof of their power. Now I know that next time I catch a glimpse of myself in the proverbial mirror, ranting and raving, I’ll laugh in a slightly embarrassed way yet also be glad knowing that playing games isn’t a futile experience.
