A Pixelated Place To Be

The mind is a curious thing. We all see and experience things in our own, unique way. To one person a painting can be art, to another nothing more than a splattering of colors on a canvas. Our perception of art is subjective to time, place, and moments in our past that shape who we are. This is why you cry when that one song comes on the radio, or your favorite Disney movie still makes you feel like a kid again. Games work the same way.

Most of the time when people talk about games the focus is on composition: the storytelling, the graphics, the music. But any art is so much more than the sum of it’s parts. It’s the first time you saw it in the store walking with your father the day after he got laid off from work. It’s the booming laughter between you and a friend up late on a weekend. It’s the way something on the screen made you feel when no other living soul could.

The mind of a gamer is a pixelated place to be, full of these random shards of life. So when we fondly look back, why do we focus on the cartridge and not give any credence to what was going on around us at the time that helped form the bond between human and sprite? Perhaps it’s too embarrassing to reminisce about silly periods long ago. Or, maybe the time in question was one of our darkest.

There’s a reason why the bond happened, and that is what my “a pixelated place to be” series will be about. A personal, unfiltered journey into what got me into this passion in the first place. About why it means to me.

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