We can’t really expect to remember every single thing that happens in our lives. The fact of the matter is that the memories we have, at least in the vast majority of instances, blend together and are a bit hazy. While vivid detail is reserved for the most remembered or the most significant moments of ones life, and that certainly there are both negative and positive reasons why a memory could be preserved, most of what we experience day to day is remembered, stored, and then recalled in vague recollections and depictions. It’s really tough to describe that experience visually, which is why this particular Meditation Games entry is impressive to me.
I’ve never really had a good foundation for being able to skillfully play classic games. The ones that have been peppered throughout this project have been pretty big challenges for me. I’m not sure what it is – perhaps it’s the fact that I can’t get the timing right, or maybe that I’m just too nervous when trying to get to where I’m going, or maybe it’s just that I’m getting old and my reflexes can’t keep up any more. Any way you slice it, I’ve had problems – which is why the mechanics of this particular classic collector game were welcome to me.
While a lot of times memories are made even if the circumstances seem mundane, there is something to be said about making them in places and in situations where they’re truly memorable for how and where they unfold. Of all those types of memories, marriage proposals are one of those types of memories that benefits from being done in a setting that is not easily forgotten.
I used to not like the game modes that kept going into perpetuity, like Horde or Survival. This was mostly because of the fact that no matter what I did to protect myself or the objective, that eventually, something would get through, forcing me to take a look at the game, see what I did wrong, and then try to last a little longer. The prospect of just lasting, rather than doing everything I can to actually win the game, was at odds with the idea that games are supposed to have a way to beat them, that there is a way for the player to actually succeed at it, rather than just dying to protect your goal.
I’ll probably never really do a skydive ever. I played with the idea a bit when I was younger, but even with all the precautions that are taken with first time sky divers, like jumping with someone, ensuring that there’s adequate safety gear, and a rigorous testing of all equipment necessary for you not to splat on the ground unceremoniously, I just think I can’t do it. The stress, anxiety, and the difficulty of finding a justification besides saying I did it is too much, and that’s something I felt in a palpable way with this entry.
For a hot minute back in high school, I was really into origami. The Japanese paper folding practice was part of my deep dive into the rabbit hole of the culture, where my appreciation for all things anime and manga led me to become more familiar with things within the culture to educate and better myself. Origami was one of these – a sort of subtle art to folding origami paper into things which were both simplistic and elegant in their presentation.
Deadlines and trying to rush through to meet one are a thing that everyone’s gone through before, whether that is for school to try to finish some work, for a job where you’re trying to pull through a project over the goal line, or at home to be able to do what you need to in order to ensure that you’ve got your basic necessities, or for planning vacations. They’re a constant specter over you, and definitely have the potential to overwhelm you as they get closer to being done.
Anxiety over flying is not an unusual thing to hear about when it comes to fear. The fact is that for some people, being at an immense altitude off the ground with the prospect of the worst case scenario crashing and burning from that height is a harrowing experience. It doesn’t matter how rare that crashes happen, that technology on planes has made that even less likely, or anything else that is meant to calm concerns about the safety of flying – anxiety knows no bounds at times, and that’s completely understandable when confronted with the circumstances that trigger than anxiety.
I put a high value on structure and logic when it comes to some things in my life, which is why unsurprisingly I’m a daily crossworder. With the help of some co-workers, we work through one every day, then go to more if we have time. The idea behind crosswords is nice to me not only because I’m enriching my own vocabulary and my vernacular, but I’m also solving something that has logic and organization behind it, that has clues that connect together to form interesting sets of words. The construction of these crosswords has been almost as intriguing to me as trying to get them solved, because it’s definitely a lot of effort to get them there.
One of the things that games with a bunch of personalization options like to present to players is the idea of sliders – a way to make tiny, incremental adjustments by moving one of the settings slightly left or right (or, if you prefer, all the way over if needed). Personally, I’ve never been a big user of them – maybe that’s a function of both my thought that I prefer to play as the developer intended in the defaults, or my own relative “meh” feeling about feeling the need to make such miniscule adjustments, but I know people who do, and who appreciate being able to tweak the sliders to what’s desired for an ideal gaming experience.