How much would you sacrifice to make your aspirations possible? How important is your comfort? As we grow older, there’s a growing sense of wanting more from life. For Trishna (right), she wants to go to college to fulfill her dreams and become independently successful, well, along with John (left), yet part of that means leaving her retiring service dog Pollyanna (center) and family at home. How might that answer be addressed in “The Story?”
How did this happen? Is there a correlation between my childhood raised secondarily by videogames and my reality where much of it involves tempering my overexposure to reality to avoid finding myself in a drunken stupor? I doubt the hours I spent playing games like Mario, Final Fantasy, or EarthBound caused this. Encouraged an addictive framework? Perhaps. Spend another 10 minutes to level up, throw yourself to the mercy of inebriation, only to rinse and repeat?
In ten years, I would like a job I don’t completely hate. I’ll accept a little bit of animosity when it comes to some minor things: waking up early to do certain tasks, writing about stuff I’m not completely passionate about, and working for others is fine. Just as long as everything is reasonable. So here’s a list of five things I’d like, more than anything, at the start of my 20th year of employment:
The photograph below shows the back cover of a gaming laptop. The cover is filled with stickers including ones from a recently-reviewed Year of the Cobra concert. The laptop is on a reflective marble table. The background shows a hand using a smartphone. In the foreground are two LEGO minifigs. These minifigs represent the main characters of “The Story:” Trishna (in wheelchair) and John. This week’s brainstorming update explores videogame accessibility both real and fictional.
Spoiler Warning Scale: Minor (game?! development)
WANNA READ ABOUT VIDEOGAMES WITH IMPAIRMENTS IN MIND? KEEP ON READING!
My alarm would go off. Rather than go back to sleep, I’d jump on the computer to run through my Shonen Idle Z timers. I beat the game after 5 months of letting the idle game run in the background for nearly 1,000 hours. It’s a pretty game in a low-impact, somewhat trivial, genre. Doesn’t that mean it’s functionally useless and valueless? Why not play a more rewarding game? It can teach one big lesson about motivation.
Mechanics Rating: ★★★☆☆ [3/5]
Discipline potential: ★★★★☆ [4/5]
WANNA LEARN ABOUT SOME INCIDENTAL MOTIVATION? KEEP ON READING!
The premise is clear within thirty seconds of the trailer for Else Heart.Break(): you’re gonna program some cool stuff! Subtly learning basic programming while modifying a future retro game world? Groovy! Within seven hours of gameplay, however, the execution failed to deliver even a hint of premise, which is unfortunate because with some modification this could have been a great edutainment videogame. This was most “programming” I was able to do:
Are you sure? y/n what?
OK, can’t blame you.
I realized two things since my last update on The Story. I need to be writing as much as I possibly can and I don’t have a formal sell for “what it’s all about.” Maybe it’s a massive oversight that I only just started to dig into “the why” of why it’s an important story to tell. There are so many stories out there. So what? Why bother throwing effort into this idea, rather than say try to build my career or live comfortably?
Writing last week about (working title) The Story helped me focus on brainstorming new ideas. Maybe I’ll turn this into a weekly feature? There is the problem that once you write an idea, it may be pinned down to that iteration rather than given a chance to fully develop, so there is the balance between spending years coming up with fully developed ideas like I have been doing and just saying “here are some rough drafts, and they’ll probably change once I’m ready.”
Inherent Vice is a psychedelic rock jam translated into a movie. We tag along as private investigator “Doc” Sportello takes a case for his ex after she’s moved on from the hippie lifestyle of the late 1960s and into the glamor with a violent undercurrent that would replace it. Life is treating Doc well, though something’s missing, and it’d be easy to say a coherent plot. The lively conversations and vibrant world are more important than plot, similar to these four examples: