Playin' video games

*Lana Del Rey voice*

Hello mixers!

Before we dive in, I’d love to share my latest Forbes Health articles with y’all:

• What Is a Sober Living House?

• Glycemic Index Chart For Common Foods: What You Need To Know

I had hoped that I could also proudly link to one of my essays published in Electric Lit, but alas, my submission wasn’t accepted. I saw the rejection email while at a Coney Island Cyclones game and was bummed, but I credit Derek for reminding me that rejections are intrinsic to ~the process~ and that he was proud of me for submitting the essay in the first place. I credit myself as well for knowing he’s right and for still being able to enjoy the rest of the game and post-game fireworks without the rejection hanging over my head.

Now for the main event, an essay on video games.

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The other night, I accidentally stayed up 'til 2am playing The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom. I say accidentally because, while I was intentional about my movements in the game, I didn't mean to stay up so late, let alone playing a video game. It was accidental because I simply lost myself in the game's incredibly expansive fantastical world. I checked my phone at 11pm-ish and the next minute it was 1:50 the following morning.

Tears of the Kingdom (TOTK) was released for the Nintendo Switch in May. Derek and I got it digitally about a week later and haven't stopped playing since. I do a lot of running around and completing of quests, while Derek takes on the harder (for me) task of beating up baddies that stress me out too much. We probably won't stop playing until we've seen the main story line through, and even then we might take some time to finish out all the side quests and easter eggs we can find. This is our usual video game flow: go hard on one game for weeks, then take a break while we each play our own games separately and relatively sparingly until the next game sweeps us up.

We're mostly settled into this gaming routine, having built and honed it over the last four years, which was when Derek bought our Xbox One to start playing Red Dead Redemption 2. At the time, I didn't really have an interest in true video games. You see, I did not grow up playing video games. I have no idea how Mario Party works. I don't know the significance of the different Game Boy devices. As a kid, I played a few computer games (the Putt-Putt Travels Through Time ditty still lives rent free in my mind) and then as I got older, I played games on my phone, like Tetris, 2048, or those start-your-own-diner games.

So while Derek was busy wrangling horses and robbing trains, I was plodding through Hogwarts in the Harry Potter Lego game app my friend, Robin, had recently told me about. One day, as I swiped around to lead Fred Weasley up a specially marked wall with his specially sticky shoes that made a squelching sound with each step, Derek looked over at me.

"What are you doing? What is that sound???"

He, who has been playing video games for a couple of decades, was horrified to see me tapping on my 5.5" Google Pixel screen to move around my tiny characters and cast tiny spells.

He bought me the complete Harry Potter Lego set for Xbox the following day. I tore through that game like a maniac, hitting 100% completion and even some Xbox achievements. Then I completed all the Jurassic Park Lego games and a lot of the Star Wars Lego games before those started to glitch and got too annoying to play.

After that, and with no interest in, like, the Lego Movie Lego games, it was time for me to level up.

We got Unravel Two, a cute sequel game about these two small yarn figures who have to make it through a human-sized world in different segmented levels. The idea is you and a partner work together to get your two yarn boys across several obstacles in each level. I was an absolutely dreadful partner. I didn't know how controllers should work with more sophisticated games like this, having recently excelled only at a series of children's video games. My timing was bad and I couldn't jump correctly onto or over things. Whenever the obstacle required us to do something quickly or perfectly timed, I got incredibly stressed and panicky, my palms clamming up, and I only got worse from there, choked by the anxiety.

Naturally, in an effort to help and get us both through each level, Derek would make suggestions.

"You don't have to press A there. Hit X and then move to the right to dodge. Try waiting for this moment to jump. Maybe if you use this tactic?”

All I heard was "You suck at video games, you're doing everything wrong," which is, of course, not what he meant at all.

I felt incredibly incompetent and stupid that I couldn't accomplish some simple thing in a mere video game! I took every comment very badly, and I still do because it feels like he's there to point out my every incompetence, every mistake. I know I suck at video games, you don't have to tell me. Stop watching me, it's embarrassing how bad I am, knowing how much better at this you are than me. I should just stop playing. I should just give up on games completely, I'm so bad at it.

(Why, yes, I am on an SSRI, why do you ask?)

After plenty of starts and stops and coaxing, we did finish the game. Lucky for us both there was the option for my yarn guy to glom onto his yarn guy so he could get us both through any hard parts I refused to do.

Then a friend of Derek's recommended The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, which had gotten his girlfriend more into gaming. So we bought it on our new Nintendo Switch and I gave it a go.

The biggest adjustment was that now I had to move both joysticks - one to physically move my character and the other to move his/my POV. It went VERY badly at first. I always ended up looking at the sky when I wanted to look down and vice versa. Finally we had to invert the camera settings so that I could play properly without getting too frustrated every time. But then every time Derek went to play, he would have to reset the camera to its normal person setting. Again, although I was having fun exploring the game, I felt inadequate, like a real loser who I couldn't get these simple skills down.

(Why, yes, I have been a perfectionist since birth, why do you ask?)

I won't walk us through every game I've played since then, but I have made a major improvement since my Harry Potter Lego days. I'm even better than Derek is at aiming bow and arrow shots in Zelda games.

Still, the flow of our gaming routine isn't quite flawless. I still get frustrated and upset with myself when I can’t figure something out, or when Derek provides the solution seemingly so simply.

There is also the residual guilt lingering from my gaming-less childhood. It’s not just that we didn’t have video gaming systems; it’s that we weren’t allowed. In my house, we read a lot of books, watched a lot of movies and played a lot of board games. Video games, I was taught, were for those who weren't as smart, those who were lazy, those who didn't want to be smart or do well in school. In fact, video games made you dumber. Video games were Bad and I was Good because I did Good things like read books and get As in school.

So even now as a semi-grown woman, I find myself filled with turmoil while I play a video game. I’m enjoying running around in TOTK, and I’m going to keep doing it, but I am also often on edge, worried about all the other, “better” things I could be doing. I find myself worrying that Derek hates me or resents me during the times I’m playing a video game and he’s working. Sometimes I even ask him, “Do you hate me?” He knows now why I ask, but at first he was confused. “Why would I hate you??” I explained that he might hate me because I’m playing video games and not working or washing the dishes or doing the laundry or going for a walk or reading a book or, or, or… Turns out he actually likes when I play video games. He likes watching me run around and have fun with certain obstacles. He likes jumping in to help when there’s a scary boss I don’t want to fight.

He has said this many times now. I believe him when he says it, but days later, when I’m fiddling with the Switch controllers again, I’m not so sure. I still have moments of antsy-ness and guilt when I’m playing a game, beating myself up for not doing something “more productive” or “more worthwhile.”

But I am working on unlearning such beliefs. Logically, I know I’m not a moron for not being able to figure out a video game puzzle or successfully dodge a baddie’s strike. I also know now that no one is lazy or stupid for playing video games, either. I’m retraining my brain to let myself simply enjoy this fun activity I’ve found. It’s a process, a side quest in life, if you will, but I’m getting there.