Misinformed, angry, coffee-addled ranting.
So summer has supposedly arrived and as such I have moved out of my University flat and back to my home town. This means I’ve now got to find ways to occupy myself until September that don’t involve constructing a rudimentary flamethrower out of household objects for a gentle afternoon’s rampage through the town centre.
What is there to do? I can’t go outside – the British summer is more grey and unpredictable than my nan when she’s forgotten her medication. There’s only so much Breaking Bad left so I’m having to ration episodes out like a desperate meth-head trying to get my fix without overdosing altogether. I used to read Charlie Brooker books on the toilet until I got freaked out by him staring at me as I wiped my arse.
And of course I can’t spend time with humans – they inevitably ruin everything by talking about their shit lives which is just depressing. Or even worse, their lives aren’t shit at all, making yours look even shitter by comparison. You can’t win. This is why dogs are better than people – they have awful lives but they’re permanently chuffed so you don’t have to listen to them complaining.
However I have finally found a solution to my problems. It comes in the form of what many people are calling the greatest video game ever made – The Last of Us. Now I’m only a couple of levels in so I couldn’t spoil it even if I wanted to, but I can safely say that it is, without doubt, a masterpiece. And I fucking hate it.
The reason I hate it is because of the pure fact that it’s so good, it has inevitably ruined video games for me for the rest of my life. It makes everything else I’ve played before look amateurish, emotionally shallow and with the graphical complexity of a spunking cock and balls crudely carved into a school desk with a compass.
I understand that not everyone reading this will be a fan of video games and that’s fine. The concept can be applied to anything. From the best meal you’ve ever eaten to the best sex you’ve ever had; by sheer definition everything else you’ve eaten or shagged (or both) will technically be worse. Everything you’d previously believed to be good is now tainted. You now notice all the flaws you never picked up on the first time round. You find yourself shouting at your other video games going “WHY CAN’T YOU BE LIKE THAT??”. I imagine it’s like when parents watch documentaries about genius eight year old chess champions from China and look at their own kids with disgust as they run around in circles with a finger jammed up their nostrils.
The Last of Us manages to disprove anyone who says video games aren’t art; their perception of the medium warped by exposure to nothing but Fifa or Call of Duty. For those who don’t know, Fifa is a football game and Call of Duty is a game where fat American 13 year olds exchange racial abuse with strangers until their mum calls them downstairs to ungratefully stuff their faces with chicken nuggets. Possibly there’s some shooting or something involved too.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a snob when it comes to entertainment. I’m a simple person – I could be kept amused for hours with a smiley face drawn onto an upturned bin. But when presented with the ultimate achievement in any media form I appear to have some form of breakdown and end up in the foetal position lamenting the futility of my existence. I can’t seem to just enjoy the bloody thing, instead it serves to reaffirm the pointlessness of my life, the fact that everything I’ve previously thought was half decent was nothing but a big steaming turd.
Perhaps I’m overthinking things. Perhaps I should just sit back and enjoy the pretty colours and shooting mutants in their disfigured faces. But I maintain that things like The Last of Us are ruining our existence. They’re getting our hopes up and make us expect things to be of high quality. And that’s just dangerous. There’s no way things will meet our expectations. Life is disappointing enough as it is without expecting anything halfway decent to happen. For the sake of our future happiness – we should demand mediocrity.