I’m the first to admit that I can become a little acerbic when I’m writing whilst drinking. I’m not like that in company, in fact quite the opposite. In recent years I’ve become somewhat Russell Brandian in my public inebriation; full of gesticulation, pithy anecdotes and enthusiasm. This goes doubly if I’m meeting people for the first time. It isn’t something I do willingly, that would be a little bit pathetic really, no, it’s my way of getting by in situations that would otherwise make me feel a little self-conscious. The drinking certainly helps as well. It, as I’m sure it does for many people, loosens me up, imbues me with greatly inflated self-confidence and – people might beg to differ – makes me funnier. That’s only when I’m in company though; when I have to be courteous and charming and very happy. When I’m by myself and half drunk, writing, as I like to do, I become more realistic, cynical and just a little bit bitter.
It’s stupid and short-sighted of me to insist upon writing in this state, primarily because it doesn’t accurately represent my true feelings and opinions, but also because I’m a torturously slow and clumsy typist when I’ve had a few. A week or so ago it took me a good hour to concoct this monstrosity calling out new consoles as being bad things. I do stand by what was written, at least to a certain extent, but take massive umbrage at how it was written because, well, it’s a bit silly.
My overriding point was always that launch games for a newly released console rarely play to the machine’s full potential. That has been the case throughout the (recent) history of the medium and can be witnessed today. The reasons for this are primarily based in issues of technology and time, two things I’m not particularly qualified to talk about. Suffice it to say that these games aren’t bad, simply that they will be almost certainly surpassed as the people who make them become more adept at working with the technology that drives them.
That was it really; not a particularly stunning or intelligent observation to make. I was drinking though, so I thought I was breaking down taboos and saying something few people are willing to admit to. See, that surge of self-confidence was truly working a treat for me.
The other thing I was channelling, though not very clearly, is that I don’t think I’m ready to move on yet. While I seemingly don’t like anything these days, I still have a fair few games to play before I throw my current consoles out of the window. When I rushed out and bought my PS3 I was mesmerised by graphical fidelity and not much else; I mustn’t have cared about other things improving as long as they looked prettier in their creative stasis. I don’t think like that today, so I’ll be using the time between now and truly new experiences emerging to polish off the games I’ve missed along the way. There’s a couple, so I should be well stocked for six months or so.
I am a little more bitter and cynical than I was in 2007; I think that just comes naturally as we all get a tad older. I may be that way about video games specifically, because I’ve had the same boxes sat on my desk for so long, pumping titles at me with – generally speaking – gently decreasing returns of amazement, excitement and enjoyment. Maybe I’m not the curmudgeonly figure my drunken mind would have me believe. Maybe, just maybe, instead of moaning about how little things have changed since I was seventeen (they have, quite a bit), I’d be better served by looking forward to how things will change, now we finally have the boxes that can power these new experiences.
Or maybe I should just stop getting pissed up and kidding myself that I can write drunk. Probably not, but drinking or no drinking, I’ll try and remember the lights when I’m finally done playing with these old boxes.
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