I write this thinking that I couldn’t hate or love my father any more than I do right now. I hate him because I know he is keeping something from me that I deserve to know — something that at my age I know how to cope with more or less. I love him because he’s my father but also because I know that I may not have much time left to spend with him.
Last August while on a holiday break with my family, my father fell ill. He literally turned a shade of yellow and had no energy at all. Needless to say, we cut the break short and got him to our general practitioner as soon as possible. The doctor told us that he had a blockage in his bile tract, which we later discovered is a tumor. What my parents knew then (that I didn’t know) was that the tumor is indeed cancerous. A few weeks after this sudden illness, his physician diagnosed him with cancer of the bile tract.
I was shell-shocked. I didn’t know what to think…I still don’t six months on — only about what had happened in the past and what will most likely happen in the future. In those hours, days, and maybe even weeks of reminiscence and dread, I thought about how I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it wasn’t for his influence. He has made me noble, intensely inquisitive, and sardonic, and I can’t thank him enough for it. As a subset of all that, he has made me the gamer that I am today — something that I can never repay.
I had played those small, kiddie titles from a very young age, but my first console was a Game Boy Color. That surely makes many older gamers feel incredibly ancient, but I devoted days if not weeks to that thing and my first game: Pokémon Yellow. I was told that it was my dad’s idea. I don’t know if he would laugh or feel regret if he knew that that decision gave me the addictive personality towards games I have now.
Getting pissed off by that odd, spiky-haired dude stealing my Eevee is one of the first memories of being agitated at a game; the excitement of getting that little yellow mouse running behind you is one of my first memories of being happy while playing. Just the concept of collecting lots of little odd creatures possibly drove me to be the obsessive compulsive person that I am. Want proof? See the three completely depleted systems in my Mass Effect 2 save…I'm working on the fourth.
Then came my PlayStation days: my Japanese, role-playing-game (JRPG) addiction and when I constantly asked my dad for help with the simplest of titles. Sheep, Dog, 'n' Wolf was one of those games, which was based off of the old Sam Sheepdog and Ralph Wolf cartoons back in the day. I remember how frustrated I got while playing — no matter how easy it actually was to others.
Being as young as I was when that released, I constantly asked my dad for help. Whether it was not being able to get the sheep back to the safe zone or being constantly caught by that damn sheepdog, my dad was there to help me out as much as possible.
That constant encouragement to keep trying no matter how close I got to breaking the controller ensured that I didn't miss out on other stealth experiences down the line, like Metal Gear Solid and Splinter Cell. Later, he sat down next to me and listened intently as I explained how Final Fantasy 6 worked, and then picked up the controller himself for a half hour or so before putting it down but convincing me to keep at it.
That encouragement ultimately paid off later when I was frustrated with Final Fantasy 10 for the PlayStation 2. My parents had bought a PS2 for my brother and I that Christmas, and my first game was Final Fantasy 10, stemming off of my love for the Final Fantasy games on the original PlayStation.
My dad was convinced that even if I found it hard, I would be able to get through it. He said that he wouldn't let me move on to another game until I beat it, because he knew that my frustration wasn't letting me think properly about it; I was capable of it, but I was preventing myself from doing it. If not for him, my love of JRPGs and RPGs in general would have been quenched there and then. I would have missed out on classics like Mass Effect, Persona 3 and others — games that I would have regretted not playing.
I fast forward to today and write this article after a long absence. I'm playing through Mass Effect 2 on the PlayStation 3 for the third time as the biggest a-hole that I could be, and I see my dad laughing in the doorway as I jam the equivalent of a taser into a mechanic's back.
Despite me knowing that he hopes for me to get a well-paying job so I can have a comfortable life in the future, he says he's proud of my interest in informing people and getting my opinion out there. Later, he points to the Renegade option on the screen again, and has the same reaction as I push a mercenary out of a very high window. Thinking back to the start of this article, I think ,"Noble? Yeah right." Oh, if only Renegade interrupts occurred in real life….
Now, close to tears over my own words, I think of all the gaming experiences the both of us have had in real life and how we might not have many left. To end, I will give a bit of advice to every gamer out there: Take every opportunity to have gaming experiences with your parents, and above all, appreciate them. Something like what has happened and is happening to my dear dad right now could happen to anyone.
My dad has made me who I am today and also made me the gamer I am today, and dedicating this article to him is the best way I can thank him right now.
Stephen Barry is a fairly opinionated gamer with a yearning to write…and rant. He also tends to get angry at people who complain about Nintendo's trend of systems with not-so-great graphics. Take that how you will. So, if you ever read an article by him, expect one of two things: a rant or discussion about a relevant gaming topic or hating on Ninten-haters. Oh, and its pronounced "Stee-ven" — not "Stef-en." He gets mad when people mix it up.