Growing Up

by Jarrod Stokes

First off, let me say that I have been playing RPGs since I was 7 years old and Final Fantasy stormed the NES. During the 11 years that have passed since then, it never really occurred to me that I could stop playing RPGs; it was just something I did. It never occurred to me, that is, until I sat down in front of my Playstation a week ago, turned on FF Chronicles, and realized, "I have no interest in playing this." Now, I don't mean the casual disinterest that strikes at every gamer, when the idealistic fantasy world is gently left behind for the harsh reality of life. I mean I felt no attraction whatsoever towards video games, period. I looked through my stack of games, games that had served me well over the years, some even offering a deeper insight to lessons such as love, humanity, and death. I looked through that stack, and felt nothing. No amazed gasp as the world pixilated into my first battle outside of Baron, no shock of loss as Sephiroth's blade sheared through Aeris' body and her haunting melody echoed in my ears. I felt-nothing.

I sat back, a little stunned. What had brought about this change? I asked myself. And while the answer to that question was neither readily available nor comforting, since that day, I have found it. The reason I could no longer play through a game with as little thought as breathing is that I had grown up, and that maturation had created a rift between my senses of reality and imagination. Without delving too deeply into my personal life, let me say that over the last week I have had to face the person whom I love and accept his decision to leave me behind. Through a series of drawn-out encounters and experiences, I have had my conception of love broken down and rebuilt before my eyes and heart. It was this realization that made me conscious of what RPGs really mean for me.

When I was young, RPGs represented a fanciful escape into which I could release all my hopes and aspirations for the future. Every RPG, to varying degrees, explores and develops the gamer's hopes and aspirations for her future. As a child my hopes were more simplistic: having wonderful adventures, traveling the world, and gaining the recognition of others. Accordingly, I played Final Fantasy and Dragon Warrior, experiencing the Light Warriors' sprawling journey across sea and sky as well as rescuing the princess from the Green Dragon. During the succeeding years, my desires grew to include forging friendships paralleling those of Crono and his companions, finding love such as that of Lenneth Valkyrie and Lucian, and gaining the pervasive understanding of life acquired by Krelian. But despite the depth of my new aspirations, they remained just that: aspirations. Feelings and experiences the child in me hoped and believed would await me in the so-called 'real world.'

What occurred this last week was my graduation into said 'real world' and the systematic elimination of my childish fantasies. I am not one to debate the physical or astral location of my emotions; whether in my mind, heart, or soul, beliefs that I had taken for granted had been distorted without my knowledge. No longer was love simple, romantic, or eternal; instead it was convoluted, debilitating, and finite. Life was no longer a story developing towards the inevitable happy ending, but a trial overflowing with double-crossings and no clue as to the outcome. With the onset of my newfound insights, there soon followed a corresponding change in my view of RPGs. Whereas they had previously been the extrapolation and completion of my hopes, RPGs were now the mystical isle of Avalon, sealed off from the world by a shroud of mist. Existing as surely as the mundane, yet unattainable for me, for the taint reality had left within my soul rendered me incapable of calling on their wonder.

But as the proverb states, time heals all wounds. With the help of several wonderful friends and a strong will, I accepted my loss and focused instead on the happy times we shared together. With time, I have been able to delineate the boundary separating hopes, dreams, and aspirations from reality. It was then, the very day that I accepted my lost love and fondly remembered him for the first time, that I came home and played Dragon Warrior III for all that it is worth. In this, I was able to recapture for a time my childlike wonder at a mysterious realm yearning to be traversed. Through all of this, however, I have not regressed, for never again will I be able to blindly believe in the future and what it carries. I believe this for the better. For while some gamers still and will always retain the ability to enjoy any RPG for the simple pleasures of escape and hope, I have an ability much stronger. I have the ability to see what an RPG struggles to teach me, whether of life, death, or love, and understand, really understand, what the lesson is. I can appreciate the fantasy for what it is: a fantasy. Not reality, in any shape or form, but an ideal. And I can laugh. For now, with my understanding of loss and sacrifice, I can laugh at the perfectly crafted, storybook love existent in RPGs. The tale of Alex and Luna is one of predictable conclusion, and while they have conflicts and struggles, even the most amateur gamer knows the ending before it is reached. A month ago, I would have looked upon the story of their love as something to yearn and wish for, the perfect love. Now, I laugh at it.

Life is never perfect; it is harsh and unrelenting. But if we stay confident, we can survive and emerge wiser, stronger, and ultimately happier than we ever believed possible. I have been through hell and back for the one I love, and experienced more pain than most others my age or older. And I don't regret a thing.