Making Memories

Recently I read an interesting post by Bhagpuss of Inventory Full. He starts out talking about WvW in Guild Wars 2 and ends up veering hard into the realm of existentialism (and if that doesn’t convince you to give his blog a try, I don’t know what would).

My avatar silhouetted against the moon in the dearly departed LandmarkIt touches on a topic that comes up often in gaming circles. It gets phrased different ways, but fundamentally, the question is, “Are we wasting our lives by playing video games?”

Bhagpuss’ answer to that appears to be a hard no. Many feel similarly — that if you enjoy yourself, it’s not time wasted, no matter how impermanent and abstract video games may be.

As someone who has spent what is by almost any standard an unhealthy amount of my life playing video games (and engaging in other pastimes), I have a more complex view of things. I don’t regret all of the time I’ve spent gaming, but I do regret some of it, and I’m trying to get better at focusing on games that I’m not likely to regret playing.

These days my criteria for whether a game is worth my time is, “Will this make a good memory?”

A large part of the reason I stopped playing Heroes of the Storm regularly is that I realized I’d been playing it almost daily for about two years, and had almost no memories of the game. It’s not that I wasn’t having fun. Most of the time I was.

But that game never really made me feel anything. It didn’t make me think. I didn’t meet any friends in-game, and I didn’t learn anything valuable. All those matches just faded into a blur of bad Raynors and dropping Blizzards on team fights. It meant nothing.

Playing as Alexstrasza the Dragon-Queen in Heroes of the StormI don’t necessarily regret ever playing Heroes in the first place, but I regret that I wasted so much of my life on it.

By comparison, I sunk hundreds of hours into The Secret World, and I’m overflowing with positive memories of that game. There was the time I spent an afternoon translating Caesar ciphers, there was spending Christmas Eve with Moiren, there was Joelzilla, there was soloing The Girl Who Kicked the Vampire’s Nest for the first time, there was wandering the streets of Kingsmouth and listening to the seagulls…

I could go on and on. Almost every moment spent in TSW, I was stimulated intellectually and emotionally. I treasure all of the memories I made in that game, and I don’t regret a single second I spent playing it.

And really I think this philosophy is something you can apply to any aspect of life. “Will this make a good memory?”

A few weeks ago, I went to a Chvrches concert. It was a fantastic show, and I had a great time, but what really makes it worthwhile for me is the way I’ll be able to revisit that night in my memory for years to come. Any time I listen to Forever now, if I close my eyes, I’m back in my seat at the Danforth Music Hall, seeing Lauren dance across the stage.

It even applies to life goals. Lately I’ve been going through a lot of changes in my life and thinking hard about what I want for myself and my future — what success means to me, and what I really want to do with my life.

Celebrating Christmas Eve with Moiren and friends in The Secret WorldI think a lot of it can be boiled down to the idea that I want to make happy memories for people. That’s why I write: I want to tell stories that uplift and inspire people, that will linger with them in a positive way the same way Lord of the Rings is still inspiring me after twenty years.

I’ve also been making it a goal lately to try to be more helpful and supportive to the people who mean the most to me. Again, I want to leave people with positive memories. I want to make an impact for the better.

I think that, really, is the closest thing to immortality any of us can ever hope to achieve. When our days come to an end, the only thing we really leave behind is the memories we’ve made with other people, and the lives we’ve touched.

Returning to the original topic, I think something can still be a waste of time even if you enjoy it. But if it leaves you with a happy memory that you can continue to enjoy for years to come, then that time is never wasted, no matter how frivolous or ephemeral an activity might seem to the outsider observer.

Sad Music, Dark Stories, and Finding Beauty in Sorrow

If you’ve been following my “Song of the Month” segment, you’ve probably noticed by now that I don’t exactly listen to a lot of happy music. Even the songs I listen to that do sound peppy and upbeat at first glance usually have crushingly dark lyrics.

Emi9ly Haines, leader singer of MetricYou may find it strange or even unhealthy that I spend so much time listening to music that is so full of pain and heartbreak, but the fact is sad music makes me feel good. And there’s a reason for that, a reason that cuts to the heart of my artistic sensibilities and perhaps even includes a bit of a life lesson.

I don’t think happiness and sadness are really opposites. Or at least not in the sense that they cancel each other out. You can feel both at the same time.

Some of my happiest memories are from some of the unhappiest times in my life. Despair has a way of reminding you what really matters, and allowing you to appreciate the beauty in life.

I currently have about 230 songs on my MP3 player. Of those, the only one that predates 1990 is Bad Moon Rising by Credence Clearwater Revival. It’s not exactly a happy song to begin with, but it’s especially sad for me.

For whatever reason, Bad Moon Rising was in heavy rotation on my father’s favourite classic rock station around the time my parents were divorcing. Thus that song has always been associated with one of the most painful periods of my life (my parents splitting up wasn’t the only thing going wrong at that point).

Choosing to regularly revisit a song with such painful associations may seem masochistic, but it reminds me that I survived that time. It was horrible, but I’m still here. There were good times after that, and hopefully there are still good times to come.

Chvrches (Lauren Mayberry, Iain Cook, and Martin Doherty), a band whose music is sorrowful and lovely in equal measureIt also reminds me that as painful as that time was, it was also a time when I did a lot of growing as a person. It was a time when I was exposed to many wonderful new places and new experiences, and it helped shape my life for years to come in very positive ways.

And therein lies the appeal of sad songs. Music that manages to be both sorrowful and beautiful reminds me that even in the darkest moments there is still the potential for growth, and discovery, and beauty.

I apply a similar sensibility when it comes to story-telling, both my own and that of others. As I’ve said before, I enjoy dark stories, but it needs to be done right. You need to be able to still find the moments of warmth and joy even in the darkest story. Stories where nothing bad happens are boring, but so are stories that spend all their time wallowing in awfulness.

My favourite stories therefore are not the ones that make me happy, nor the ones that make me sad. They’re the ones that do both at once. The ones that really stick with me are those that can still find grace and hope in the darkest moments, or fill you with such joy it makes your heart hurt.

Because in the end, that’s what life is about. You take the good with the bad. Even when everything is seemingly going well, regrets and insecurities can rise up to swallow you, and even when everything seems hopeless, you can still find little moments of peace and beauty to lessen your burdens and put a smile on your face.