Once upon a time, I used to be able to chart my life through which video games I was playing. Of course, I could also chart it with the array of geek hobbies I had as well, but video games were a medium that I kept returning to. When I was obsessed with Star Trek, I played the wretched Star Trek games. Ditto Star Wars. And I absolutely played every single side-scrolling comic book beat ’em up. I still have found memories of poring over the instruction book for Chrono Trigger when I wasn’t able to actually play the game. I scoured FAQs not for clues but to more fuller immerse myself in games. I used to be passionate about games. I had game crushes.
That just doesn’t happen anymore. I can barely play a game for twenty minutes before feeling as though it’s a chore. There have been a few exceptions in recent years. Portal. Fallout 3. But, generally, I could not give a damn about video games. I no longer need to be an early adopter. I don’t need Madden the day it comes out. I’ll likely play Final Fantasy XIII when it comes out, but it won’t be because I want to. It’ll be out of some bizarre sense of obligation.
The thing is, games are getting better, at least in general. Sure, there’s a tension between studios simply developing more technologically advanced engines and creating more original stories, but there are so many exciting developers out there that I should be, well, excited. And I’m not.
I’m getting older, and I’m not sure I like it.