Over the next several hours I met forest nymphs, helped reunite a giant with his crustaceous friends, and joined together two races that were separated by time, evolution and war.
It's a feeling of pride, having accomplished all that, and in record time. While, in my heart of hearts, I know this is all just a strange fantasy world, I feel comforted by it. I wished so much that I could step onto the mountaintop where the flying Alatien live, or troll around the future-city of Newport, or even just take a breather in the cozy confines of the Fringe Café.
Alas, sitting wearing a stained t-shirt and my boxers in front of a glowing monitor in the middle of the night making jokes about having breasts is about as close as I'm going to get.
I stretched and stood up, watching as April passed out on the floor of the ship belonging to the cryptic Dark People. Come to think of it, I hadn't really slept all that long, and the couch looked so very comfortable, and I was trying to stay lockstep with April.
Suffice to say, my mind was swimming in the waters of the Arcadian coast within minutes.
Reflecting upon my excursion into the world of Stark, Arcadia, magic, the future, dragons and monsters, I can't help but think that videogames - the best videogames - combine some of the greatest elements from the plethora of art around us. They absorb an engaging visual storyline from the world of film, a feeling of connection with the main character as in a good book, and music that touches in all the right places.
So, it made me wonder how anyone couldn't consider these works of art. If Al Pacino can tell you to say hello to his "little friend," why can't you crash into pedestrians in a world of little to no consequence to our own? After all, art isn't all about beauty. Oftentimes, it's a reflection of us. I play The Longest Journey because I long for a sense of adventure. Others, teenagers perhaps, drop themselves into the world of Grand Theft Auto because they crave some of the old ultraviolence. (I mean, have you actually ever worked at a fast-food restaurant? Trust me, you'd want to kill people, too.) And Mario? Well, he's just a fun guy.
A more important question to ask than, "Is this art?" is, "If art can accomplish all this, does it cease to be art, and become something greater than its component parts?"
It was the next day, and I was a champion. Truly, the hero of both worlds. Amazing what a good night's rest and a compulsive affection for 3-D 20-somethings will do for you.
As the game closed, an old woman, gently rocking back and forth in her chair, talked of days gone by. I couldn't help but think to myself that many would consider my brief experiment a waste of time. Let them think what they want. I got to affect the fate of two worlds, save countless billions and make friends with a bird, all in the space of a weekend.
How often does a person get to say that?
Tom Rhodes is a writer and filmmaker currently living in Ohio. He can be reached through Tom.Rhod@gmail.com
