I have, on occasion, been known to become singularly obsessed with a game. I think most of us have been there, fully engaged by one single experience that becomes the focal point of our gaming time. It can feel like a wonderful love affair, and it can feel like a prison.
I have been obsessed with a couple of games for a few months now. If you’ve encountered any of my writings or comments over the past six months, then you might know which games I’m talking about. In fact, I’m quite intentionally avoiding using their name, because the moment I do this article will become about those games. I won’t want it to be. I’m as sick of hearing myself talk about it as you are, and yet it is this inescapable presence in my gaming life, a dark tower at the center, to which ley lines draw me across a field of roses day after day, drawing me to certain doom.
I put it that way, because even in the throes of it, an obsession feels damaged, tainted and like a corrupting force. There are all these other experiences out there waiting for me that I’m locking myself away from because of my obsession. It’s a broken record of my favorite line from my favorite song, a constant shot of distilled joy injected into the same swollen spot over and over again.
I want to escape. I never want to escape. I’ll be happy missing it when it’s gone. I’ll miss it making me happy when it’s gone.