This is highly recommended, a series where I provide a compelling argument for why you should like stuff that I like.
Dear Reader,
I don’t remember when I first got a Playstation 2, but I do remember the first time I smashed a Playstation 2 controller. Aggressively crouched on the edge of a futon with a pleather cover, I was in the middle of an intense matchup between college players identified only by numbers (fuck the NCAA) on NCAA Basketball 2004. (This was back when Melo was good enough to be on the cover of a video game.)
I don’t remember who I was playing as. Or who I was playing against. But I do remember losing to the computer on a buzzer beater. And I remember taking my off-brand PS2 controller (thanks Mom) and throwing it at the wall. The controller didn’t survive. R.I.P.
If I realized anything at that moment, it wasn’t how to properly control my anger. It was that I shouldn’t pretend to be good at video games. It was that I should make my leisure activities much easier.
I highly recommend playing sports video games on the easiest possible setting.
Why?
You Won’t Break the Controller
Pretty self-explanatory.
Superiority Without Struggle
Listen, I understand that life isn’t worth living if you’re not willing to take on every challenge that comes your way. But after dealing with real-world challenges all day, nothing is more satisfying than firing up my Playstation 2 and guiding the 2009-2010 Minnesota Timberwolves to a 116 - 56 victory over the 2009-2010 Los Angeles Lakers. And when my big three of Ricky Foye, Kevin Love and Al Jefferson finally lift that digital Larry O’Brien trophy, you best believe I’ll be throwing a (real life) party. And you won’t be able to convince me that I didn’t earn that party.
Making Your Favorite Team A Good Team
Speaking of the Minnesota Timberwolves, playing NBA 2K9 is the only way I can make sure they get past the first round of the playoffs. And while watching the real team make the playoffs for the first time in 14 years was exciting, it was just kind of a tease. My digital Wolves are the dynasty I will never see.
Video Game Championship Celebrations
You know what’s better than real confetti? Digital confetti. You get to experience all the glory of celebratory paper without the hassle of cleanup.
A Dopamine Hit At The End Of A Long Day
Like me, you probably spend the majority of your day sitting in a chair and staring at a screen. But very little of what you see on that screen makes you happy, especially if it’s related to the reason you’re sitting in that chair and staring at that screen in the first place. You know what you can make you happy? Going home, sitting in a different chair, staring at a different screen and absolutely dominating the digital version of a real life sports team in a way that makes you feel like a real life sports legend. You might have other things that make you happy, but I can assure you they don’t make you as happy as this makes me.
Preparation For The Singularity
If I’m being generous to myself, the time that I spend playing video games is actually considered research. What better way to be prepared for the imminent takeover of artificial intelligence than by spending a serious amount of time with artificial intelligence? Sure, this A.I. is from almost a decade ago. But I can’t imagine that technology has improved much in the past ten years.
There’s got to be one thing you don’t like about playing video games on the easiest possible setting.
Residual Anger
Anger was the whole reason I lowered the difficulty settings in the first place. But no matter how easy I make the game, I’m unable to get rid of lingering rage. The 2009-2010 Los Angeles Lakers nail a three-pointer? I tense up. The 2009-2010 Orlando Magic get back to back defensive stops? I curse the TV. You might say the only way to get rid of these feelings is to quit playing video games and actively try and address my anger issues. And if you say that, I’ll get a little frustrated with you.
Once, while watching me absolutely destroy the 2009-2010 Denver Nuggets, Lindsey asked why I even bothered playing the game if I knew what was going to happen every time. I said I didn’t know. If I’m being honest, I still don’t know, even after writing 5,000 (this was about 5,000, right?) words on the subject. It’s a feeling I can’t describe. It’s a feeling I don’t get paid enough to describe. When I finally become an influencer who gets paid to turn these things into branded content, maybe I will.
(If that wasn’t obvious enough to the PR interns who are scouring the web trying to find the next wave of influential bloggers, I’m ready to sell out.)
love,
nicholas