I’m 19 years old, with only a few months left as a teenager. Yet, young as I am, I believe that I’ve reached a salient point in my life. At this moment I am mature enough to acknowledge the overwhelming importance video games have had in my life.
Reflecting on my own existence, the very notion of “Omar Yusuf” seems incomplete without the presence of games. While my philosophical ideals, my familial relationships and my past experiences form a considerable sum of “who I am,” it would be careless to exclude gaming from my own self-description. What may seem like a simple diversion or hobby to outsiders has come to mean a great deal to me. Among those outsiders are my parents.
It’s become clear that as time passes, my parents have become decidedly impatient with my continued interest in video games. What they believed to be a phase has turned into something all together more profound. At home, words like “passion” are confused for “addiction.” While they may never truly understand my fascination with the medium, I’d like to try and explain my side of story. I’d like to explain why I spend almost every second of everyday thinking about, reflecting on or playing video games.
This article is addressed to my mother and father.
Dear Mom and Dad,
You know that I play video games, but I don’t think you’re aware of how often I play games, and the amount of energy I use researching, playing and fantasizing about them. Growing up in your house I lived in reverie, imagining life as Sonic, while my dreams were filled with visions of Chun Li and Tornado Kicks. Every holiday and birthday you showered me with new games and consoles, without asking why. In light of the thousands of dollars you’ve spent on my infatuation with video games, I feel I owe you an explanation. So, why do I play video games?
In terms of justification, other gamers use phrases like “stress relief” and “fun” all too often. While these expressions may adequately describe the ways in which they have enjoyed games, my experience requires a much more succinct analysis. I have never used video games to simply bide the time between work and sleep, nor have I picked up a controller with the explicit aim of relieving stress. They have certainly entertained me in the past, but I wouldn’t call video games simple entertainment.
Gaming has bestowed a dimension of pleasure and appreciation to my life which I can’t begin to appraise. And while it may seem silly or juvenile, the games which I’ve played and replayed have made me a better person in every respect. I’m getting older, and at the same time I feel myself becoming more patient, diligent, and ambitious. Now, I’m sure you’ll argue that I’m simply maturing — but video games have always been, and will continue to be, an integral part of my maturation.
Whether I am alone with my PlayStation, uncovering the mysteries of Shadow Moses, or in a raid group, pitted against the undeterred hordes of Molten Core, I can’t help but acknowledge that I’m part of something bigger. Some call this escapism, others call it delusion. Whatever label you decide to use, the facts are clear: Video games put my mind at ease and allow me to experience something beyond the mundane life of a student. In the same way a Miles Davis record may stir emotion in Dad, an afternoon with Unreal Tournament is capable of eliciting an overwhelming response from me. Video games have the power to move me in ways no other experience has matched.
Furthermore, I’ve invested far too much effort and time into video games to simply discard them. My walls are lined with Gears of War and Halo posters, my desk is piled with comic books and novels based on Warcraft and Diablo, and most of my t-shirts make a reference — however obscure — to a video game. While the generational gap may make this more difficult to swallow, I’m confident that you’ll come to understand and appreciate the relevance of video games in my life.
I’ve
always presumed that I would grow old and perish with a copy of Half-Life in a shriveled, dying hand. However strange that may sound, know well that in the other hand will be a picture of the two of you.
Your son,
Omar Yusuf