What will be the last game you ever get? Many gamers assume that question simply depends on a bit of morbid posturing on when they die, and back up the clock a bit. But what if it was a conscious decision? What if, sometime in the future, you as a video game player picked up a game, or received one as a gift, and said definitively, "This is it. The last game I'll ever add to what I already have."
Kinda smacks as weird, huh? And perhaps more monumental than it really should. Firsts and lasts are generally memorable, and since most gamers assume they will be playing something off and on until they kick the bucket (and most of us are uncomfortable pondering our own end,) we don't normally think about what would be the last video game we will ever own.
But what if it were on purpose? A decision to stop buying any more games. Not for financial or practical reasons (though understandable, naturally) but because we have all we'll ever 'need' to play? Oh sure, it's perhaps easier to ponder for a collector who has more games to play than free time will ever allow, (ahem) but between free-to-play models, Steam sales, compilations, retro digital offerings, and future streaming options, most gamers have easy access to more games than they could ever complete.
And yet, even as many are lukewarm to the new generation of hardware, the assumption is that once prices come down and more games are released, we'll buy-in somewhere. Many gamers are even choosing now to jump into the 360/PS3 generation for the first time, given that prices are low, libraries are huge, and bugs are known if not resolved. Gaming is by nature technologically driven; more detailed graphics, longer (in theory) games, more (in theory) intelligent AI, higher player counts, added features, etc. Not every gamer ascribes to the 'newer is better' mantra, but few would argue against a future that continuously provides more options.
Yet the constant addition of game machines and games every year provides an embarrassment of riches to gamers who play more than the occasional title. It has literally become mathematically impossible to play, thoroughly, every new game released in a year, even if money allows it. Sure, each genre will have slow months and even years. But the back catalogue in each main (and many sub-) type of game has , with few if any exceptions, eclipsed the ability for a fan to have completely engaged each relevant title, not to mention each game in the genre.
Of course, the industry doesn't bank on a gamer's desire to play absolutely everything for everything. Its not uncommon to find a video game player who only plays one or two types of games:
The JRPG fan with a little strategy gaming on the side. The sports and Call of Duty bro. The $800 rig (not counting the actual PC) racing pro who dabbles in flight games. The MMO and-what-else-would-I-have-time-for? guru. The modern whatever's-free-on-tablets -and-phones casual.
When a gamer's scope is very focused (some would indeed say limited) it is easier to justify the constant upscale that the business-end of gaming runs on. Play out each Call of Duty and map-pack until the next game; hope that next year is more than a roster update and actually addresses legacy issues; upgrade your phone/tab to run the new wave of apps and games. A steady stream of new content to fit the field. And if you are more of a general gamer, chances are things aren't much different overall; a constant flow of 'gotta finish x to get to y'. Sometimes the games aren't even Pokemon.
Thus the consumer service is born. And all those folks who bought a Wii for Wii Sports, played for awhile, had their fun, and never bought a new game? Maybe they bug us because it goes against the modern consumerist gaming mentality. Played the next game, 'beat it,' and then moved it aside for some new hotness. Are games to be consumed and then tossed aside? Is this the only way to go about our hobby?
Well, sure, for an entertainment process it works. And I'd be rather pretentious to claim it 'should' be otherwise. But what if we stopped buying 'new' games? What if we looked back and decided, 'you know, I love old platform games. If I wanted, I could just go back and play all the greats I haven't played in awhile and ones I missed. Then, I could investigate and find platform games I never tried and played those.' After that, maybe I'm in an arcade racing game mood. I could start with the Burnout series, then move to ...'
Basically, almost each genre in gaming now has so many options, it would be feasible to spend our gaming time entrenched in genres we like, playing games already released, and not run out of material. It begs the question; why do we keep pursuing more new games when we haven't really played everything before? Especially in these days of PSOne/2 downloads and Nintendo's eShop, backwards compatibility and the relatively inexpensive costs for many older systems and games? In some ways it would make much more sense; as mentioned in previous articles, these games are going to slowly get harder to find and play, on hardware that is becoming ever more scarce.
Most gamers who have been through a few generations of hardware have likely played through a bulk of games that interested them and them moved on to the next system. We often 'beat' a game and then trade it, sell it, or store it, but rarely revisit it. Does that mean endless games have better value simply because they cannot be considered 'beaten?' Is
Galaga inherently a more valuable video game than
Radiant Silvergun? Or is it better for a game to have visible signposts, completion markers that signal it 'OK' to move on to the next game?
Obviously, there is not going to be a unified correct answer. I'm not advocating a position, but an examination. I want to make sure I don't have pre-existing assumptions about the how's and why's. I don't want to assume I have to buy the new thing because it is the new thing, anymore than I want to close off the future and assume nothing past a certain era is worth my attention. We can spend some time involved with something, and never remember to stop, look up, identify where we are, and plan to get where we want to be. As games have transitioned beyond quick-fix, in-and-out experiences and into involving, ever deepening virtual universes, the temptation can be to trudge ahead without pausing to wonder why we play what we play, and question if perhaps there is something better. A better game, a more enjoyable genre for our tastes, an unquestioned bias that we didn't realize we owned. A different way to go about things entirely.
Maybe we are better served widening our experiences, or focusing on favorites. Maybe a shotgun approach really fits us best. Maybe we should let games just be games, or perhaps use them as another lens by which we examine ourselves and the world around us. Maybe I can keep playing games as an excuse to ask more questions. Or the other way around.
