There’s a question that hovers over every pixel-pushing, thumb-cramping, late-night gaming session:
Why do we play video games?
It’s a question that could earn you a raised eyebrow from your mother, or worse, a lecture about real hobbies, but it’s worth pondering.
Is it the thrill of victory, the satisfaction of a perfectly executed strategy, or the quiet magic of being transported somewhere else entirely?
Maybe it’s all of the above.
From the nostalgic hum of a DOS-era joystick to the jaw-dropping spectacle of modern flight sims, games have always offered more than mere entertainment.
They allow us to inhabit worlds we’ll never physically touch, become heroes we’ll never truly be, and explore moral and ethical landscapes without leaving our chairs.
They are stories that ask us to act, to choose, to reflect, and occasionally, to just marvel at the wonder of creation itself.
In this piece, community writer Matt Burke takes us on a journey through the art, strategy, and emotional resonance of gaming, exploring why we keep returning to the worlds we love.
And sometimes, why can’t we help but go back decades to revisit old favourites like EF2000.
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<p>The obvious answer is entertainment; a solid video game is, like, hella fun.</p>
<p>After all, games consist of ongoing and interlinked challenges, overcoming which often calls for no minor application of intelligent strategy, and creative puzzle-solving, not to mention the brute demands of blazing-fast hand-eye coordination – all of which may be rendered into endless recipes for good clean fun.</p>
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Such power of transport stems from the fact that most modern titles follow the unfolding of a narrative.
Simply put, games are stories, and well-crafted stories are art.
I do not say so lightly; indeed, I claim that truly good games have the immersive power of film, coupled with the depth of literature, to both of which is added the thrill of direct involvement.
For me, the defining characteristic of art is an ability to reflect the human condition, and little can be more human than the desire to feature as a participant in the world around one.
Whether that means assiduously fulfilling the health-’n-wealth dictates that define success in the relentlessly perfected suburbia of cloying consumer capitalism; slaying the beast guarding a newly-opened portal to some fresh hell; or racing a perfectly track-tuned car skilfully enough to lift a virtual cup above the heads of defeated rivals.
We get to be the things we’ll never be, and, as such, we’re given permission to dream.
After all, the next great gaming essay could be yours.
About Matt:
A creaking creature from the medieval days of Counter Strike 1.6 and DoTA 1, to say nothing of an embarrassing familiarity with truly Jurassic MS DOS, Matt Burke is an aspiring writer who pens thoughts of varied content and staggeringly little value.
