On childhood memories of gaming
And why gaming isn't as fun anymore
Gen 1 : Bulky bricks and Magazines
It must have been a lazy Sunday afternoon when a younger me of 5 or 6 discovered the first taste of gaming. There in the study on my mother’s bulky laptop (it felt like you could bake bread on it), there was an upgraded modern version of Defender (the space arcade shooting game1). My younger brother and I were fascinated, our 10-15 minutes of allotted time stretching out into what felt like hours. We lost ourselves amongst the pixelated cities, jerking our defence craft to avoid their lasers, watching as our worlds were invariably bombed into dust. As ever with each session, the game screen would flash with that iconic “GAME OVER” screel.
It was the early 2000s, and a heady time. The internet was still in its infancy. Social media would not be invented for another few years. Phones still resembled bricks and dial-up was the order of the day.
Later on, aged 8 or 9, we discovered the beauty of gaming consoles. Our dad sheepishly bought us an Xbox for Christmas that year, much to our delight and my mother’s consternation. I remember him regaling us with tales of how early on in his marriage in the early 1990s, he had played Sid Meier’s Civilisation2 on his ancient desktop late into the night, to the point where she allegedly had given him an ultimatum: her or gaming (an early precursor to the modern pop culture phrase - “it’s me or the PS5”.
I miss my mother.
I kid. The game disc was given away, or otherwise discarded, and my dad never looked back.
But old habits die hard, and it was then that the men of my family discovered the joys of the 2001 hit Halo: Combat Evolved. I think it was there that my love for science-fiction truly began. The story, set amidst the ancient structures of the Forerunners during an intragalactic war between humanity and an inscrutable, implacable alien just about blew my mind as a child, and gave me a life-long love of video games. But it was the multiplayer that truly shined.
I’ll never forget those halcyon days of playing with, and against, my brother and father. Idyllic weekends and holidays playing custom maps and game modes such as rocket launchers or sniper rifles only. For birthday parties, it was common to utilise the “system link” mode to get up 16 players on one game. Friends would bring over their consoles and projectors, and a seemingly unlimited quantity of chips, soda, pizza and other snacks would be provided. It’s hard to describe the energy of 10+ pre-pubescent boys (and we were all boys) competing against one another in an arena. The febrile tautness, the high and lows as we strained against our controllers, screaming in joy at each kill and screaming even louder in outrage with each death. The adulation of our peers (the breathless spectators who had swapped out to give others a turn) as they gave a rolling commentary…
It seems childish now, but to us, this was our Colosseum. Our Hippodrome. To the winner and the top dog: bragging rights for days and universal acknowledgement as a “good player”. It was the highest accolade one could receive from gangly prepubescent boys. Even after the event, talk of memorable highlights would be recounted after school at the bus stop or when we queued up at the payphone or to pay for food at the canteen tuckshops.
It was all so innocent back then…
At that age, we didn’t care about dalliances with other girls (or boys) or booze or the furtive joy one takes from transgressive behaviour. That would all come later in the then distant future.
A friend of mine had a subscription to PC Gamer3, each month bringing forth delights and wonders - sneak-peeks and demos. Game guides were reverently passed around to each other like holy tomes, as flipped through their grimy, dog-eared pages.
Rich beyond belief was the boy who’s parents bought him a Dragon Quest or even rarer a Runescape premium subscription.
Gen 2: Flash games and MMORPGs
As we grew older, we leaned into the burgeoning world of online multiplayer games, particularly those on an epic scale. World of Warcraft, Maplestory, games where for the first time in the human experience, people from around the world could interact with one another meaningfully in a fictional universe.
We take it for granted now, but it was the first time that a connection could be made with individuals thousands of miles away. Not just a connection, but genuine friendships forged. Forget pen pals this was exploring the moon on a rocket ship together. With MMORPGs4 , I could have a genuine interaction with people I would likely never have had the chance to meet save amongst the fields of Azeroth or Lumbridge. From friendships, to enemies, tender naive love to the bitter dregs of betrayal, these communities fostered a living, breathing ecosystem made of real people. Their hopes, their dreams and personas all filtered and distilled into their avatars in a way that gave them a second life. They engaged in routine and adventure, from questing to currency trading and the mundanity of life in between.
I remember reading in high school that at one point, Everquest, a game released in 1999, had a GDP higher than that of China or India5. It wasn’t real people said. But it was real to us.
Recently, I watched The Remarkable Life of Ibelin on Netflix, about a Norwegian boy with Duchenne muscular dystrophy, a wasting muscle mutation where those affected rarely live beyond 30. To compensate for missing out on life, the boy, Mats Steen, played World of Warcraft. Through the medium, he touched the lives of countless people, as a friend and confidant. He listened to their hopes, their fears and dreams, developing relationships across his guild. He was real.
When he died at age 25, people from his guild travelled to his funeral, and every year, they honour him. Some games have that, little vignettes and organic stories that perpetuate long after their originators are gone, through myth and half-remembered legend. Such things could not survive perhaps, in any other medium.
Gen 3: Live-Service, DRMs and alpha releases
“War, war never changes” But gaming does.
Thee days the industry seems to be awash with cash-grabs and failed half-baked games that seem all too eager to sell you what they have through alpha or beta gameplay, or even pre-purchasing. Eternally in development, never to be launched.
Digital rights management (DRM) tech abounds, locking down your games to a single account, or perhaps even a single desktop.
I probably shouldn’t get started on life-service games (LSG) either but I will. Live-service games, for those who don’t know, are games focused on keeping players playing as long as possible. They do this in the hopes that the players will purchase micro-transactions in the store. Think Fortnite, Genshin Impact and the current iteration of Call of Duty. These games keep player in by making it as “engaging” as possible. Not “fun” or “balanced” but “engaging”.
For example, daily log-in “bonuses” things like small amounts of in-game money or resources, minor exp boost, etc.) are used to get players to check in with the game at least once a day. Ditto with daily missions or events. These habit forming activities are predicated on the very human traits that habits., once formed, are hard to shake6.
They rely on the player’s sunk cost fallacy or FOMO, giving them that feeling of progression without them actually progressing in any meaningful way. Loot boxes, exp boosts or even (God forbid) level-up tokens are all par for the course.
Pandering to the lowest common denominator, these LSGs will hop on the newest and hottest trend and ride it into the ground. Part of my childhood died when Call of Duty inserted a Nicki Minaj bundle for $20 USD.
It used to be independent studios and passion projects, original ideas and pushing the envelope of games as an art form. We had gems that pushed video games as an art form. Studios pushing interesting and novel titles like Metal Arms, Fable, Half Life, Republic Commando and the like.
Maybe I’m older. More jaded. Weighed down. Eroded by the reality of working a real job7 and earning money to get that bread, pay my bills and survive perhaps. I don’t game as much as I used to, and when I do, I find myself going back to older single player titles. Mass Effect from the golden age of Bioware’s writing, or Halo from the dream team that Bungie used to be, capable of elevating games into the mainstream consciousness with compelling characters and worlds.
It’s not all bad though. There’s still hope. Plenty of independent game developers exist out there, and they’re gaining traction. An indie Trading Card sim game by ONE malaysian guy recently sold over a million copies recently. Hell, Balatro8, made by another solo developer also sold over 3.5 million copies and was announced as a game of the year.
I still have friends diving into Final Fantasy XVI and experiencing player generated content - with guilds and jobs and parties. I knew one guy who worked as a bartender in an exclusive club where players actually composed their own music.
As for me, I think I’m happy to stick with the classics. Few games excite me nowadays. Perhaps it wasn’t the games that made it, but the times I lived in, where it was all we would talk about during recess, as we drifted through our childhood with little consequence.
But then again… I’ll watch a trailer for the upcoming GTA VI and my mind will drift back, playing its predecessor as a teenager of 18 on my Xbox 360 whilst in my grandfather’s house. Long days of summer, shirt off due to the heat, dog lying in the corner panting and dad outside in the garden practicing golf swings. All the memories tinted sepia. And part of me will hope. To what end - to recapture that moment? To immerse myself once again? I don’t truly know.
There’s something magical in losing yourself in a good game. You feel yourself losing time, drawn in by the characters and the world around you. Hell you even feel empathy, the choices you make a reflection of your own pysche. When a particularly compelling game ends, you feel something pull at you like you’ve just said goodbye to an old friend.
There’s nothing quite like it.
Civilisation was a turn based strategy 4x game released in 1991. The objective was to lead your tribe from the bronze age to the space age.
A gaming magazine and website founded in 1993.
Massively multiplayer online role-playing games
These are generally called "Habit forming" activities, which are what dailies and login bonuses are. They are meant to make the player integrate this as part of their daily routine because they know humans are habit forming creatures.
Whatever that means…
A poker-themed roguelike deck-building game released in 2024