Gaming Crisis

As many of you know, I have spent the last year working on a thesis about video gaming and Christian ethics (for related posts see here, here, and here). Apart from this meaning that I haven't blogged consistently for a while, it has also lead me to conclusions that I never thought I would reach. I am, in fact, having a GAMING CRISIS.

When I first started out on my thesis, I was pretty sure I knew where I was gonna end up. I am a pacifist by faith and by nature and the violence that I saw on video games haunted me. Watching my hubby and his friends play Black Ops together really use to bother me, even though what they were 'killing' was a) zombies and b) pixels. My first inclination was to run away and hide.

So when I started talking to hubby and friends about their gaming I was pretty sure that it was wrong. I thought it only glorified violence and killing and that didn't sit well with how I understood my faith and the person of Christ. I also just didn't think it was normal for anyone, no matter what faith, to enjoy watching others get killed, pixelated or not.

I was a student who started on research believing I knew what the conclusion would be. Hopefully I am not the only one who has ever done that.

Colour me shocked when I realised about two months ago that I was changing my mind.

Thanks largely to the work of Kevin Schut and his book Of Games and God (if you are into this kind of stuff seriously spend the few dollars to get this book, it is epic and so well written and easy to understand!) I started to delve into the world of Christianity and gaming and the beauty that there is in this art form. Schut, to my delight, didn't gloss over the difficult questions of violence etc, but rather engaged with it in a way that showed deep commitment to his faith and deep consideration of his love of gaming.

In short, his book blew my mind....and changed my thesis.

I began to seriously consider if I was one of those Christians that I had always despised. You know the ones. They are outside stores that are selling GTA with signs telling people how evil gaming is. I never wanted to be one of those people and yet my attitude was such that I was closed off to the idea that gaming could be anything other than violent and disturbing.

Meet my gaming crisis.

It is rather like a faith crisis, when you suddenly realise that everything you ever thought about the Bible was actually taught to you by a broken human being and maybe they didn't have everything right and maybe, just maybe, you know nothing at all about anything. That was my gaming crisis in a nut shell. I realised that I had formed my biased opinions on a small segment of gaming that I had seen and then blindly applied that to everything without stopping to ask if I actually knew what gaming was.

I was adrift in an ocean of gaming uncertainty.

To some extent I am still there. My thesis is not complete. In fact I am due to start writing my concluding chapters next week. Though I am excited about the discoveries I have made, I am also very uncertain that I really know anything about what I am trying to say anymore. All I know is, my conclusion will not be the same as I thought it would be.

I guess that is the nature of true research.

I have even started to game a little. I have started with Skyrim as my first game because of the possibilities that it offers. I am not tied into a particular character, nor do I have to engage in killing if I don't want to. It is perhaps a baby step, but it is something. This has come about due to the fact that Schut argues that you can't engage with a medium if you aren't involved with it. My friend Kent will be face palming right about now as he has been saying this to me for years, and I simply ignored him, so sorry Kent, I guess I couldn't ignore it when it was in print from a scholar of media haha.

So where does this leave me??

I HAVE NO IDEA!!!

Give me another two months to complete this thesis and I will get back to you. 

Just know, this crisis may end with me playing Black Ops after all.

Meet Albert

I want to introduce you to my friend Albert.

A 26 year old addict

Who lives on the streets of downtown Auckland

With his younger brother

Who begs across the road.

Albert looks old

Much older than his years would say

With years in his eyes that shouldn't exist

And pain etched in the lines of his face.

I met Albert when one day

I chose not to just buy him coffee

Not to simply give some coins

But to spend my lunch hour sitting on the curb

Watching people pass

And feeling as insignificant as he does daily.

A few days after meeting Albert I asked him

"what's your story?

How did you end up here with a strange woman

Sitting at your side,

Feeding you Mickey d's?"

He looked at me with a bemused smile and replied

"it's the same old story, nothing exciting."

I pressed on and eventually he gave in.

This is what he told me...

He told me of a mother with too many kids and too many addictions

Of a father barely remembered and gladly so.

He spoke of violence and police 

Of a string of houses

Where kids were paychecks

Siblings were separated

And sex, violence and abuse were normal.

Then he told me of the day a young 15 year old boy

Fled from a house that was never a home

Found his brother

And they stole into the night

On to the streets

Where they formed a life together.

At the end of his tale Albert laughed to see tears in my eyes.

For him, this story was typical,

For me, this story was terrible.

My anger at the injustice of it all burned within me.

He just shrugged and adjusted his blanket.

I got to know Albert more over the passing weeks.

I learned when he was high and wouldn't recognize me.

I sat with him when he was sober.

I saw him assessing the price of my engagement ring with his eyes when he was dying for a fix.

On those days I stood.

I bought him salad when he told me people only ever bought him fast food.

I learned his favourite brand of coffee.

And I met his friends.

Ross is a friend of Albert's.

They get high together, sharing a joint when money is low

Sharing glue when it is lowest.

He told me a story of a Christian family that didn't spare the rod or spoil the child

Of running away as a boy

Of finding solace with Mary Jane.

He ended up on the streets and tried to leave

After going to a detox centre 

Being set up in an apartment

Trying to find a job.

But life is hard in a house when your friends are on the street.

When no one will hire you for lack of qualifications

When you become reliant on the government to help you live.

'Corporate begging' was his name for the dole.

He was lonely

Alone

Afraid.

So he went where he was known

Went back to his street family

Went back to Mary Jane

And though he wishes he was clean, 

He is happier now than 'caged'.

I want to introduce you to my friend Albert.

A 26 year old addict

Who lives on the streets of downtown Auckland

With his younger brother

Who begs across the road.

Albert looks old

Much older than his years would say

With years in his eyes that shouldn't exist

And pain etched in the lines of his face.

He is man who is broken and asks for some patience.

He is a man who wants to be seen.

Do you see him?