I realized something today, though it’s not the first time that this revelation has crossed my mind. I am the last of my kind, of the people I know. My friends who were once hungry for the chance to make games have all given up, choosing a life of empty paychecks and quiet nights in front of the TV. My friends who were once rabid gamers have now settled into a cycle of acceptance, settled into less commitment-heavy hobbies. Even my extended friends have only experimented with games and own little more than a Wii with one game. Their PCs, riddled with adware, seldom have any more than the default stock of Windows games and links to Facebook. Whenever I hear about the growth of the gaming industry, I do have to question where they are getting their information. I am surrounded by a growing community of game deserters and unbelievers.
I wish that things were different. Every day that I sit in front of my computer I wish that I could call them up, bounce some ideas around with them, ask them about their favorite moments in the games they’ve played, but I can’t. Of the ones I know who continue to play games, most of them don’t bother to question why they are enjoying the experience. Many of them don’t even enjoy talking about games. It is as if they are somehow ashamed or perhaps disinterested. I don’t know why anyone would want to play a game and not talk about it, but I suppose that it is possible.
It definitely makes me feel like the odd man out, unaccepted, unable to converse over the drabs of everyday bureaucracy. The weather, office politics, the daily news; it all sounds the same to me and yet it is the most common dribble of the day, every day. Video games are my passion, my not-so-secret mistress. I am the last of my kind. For me, game development truly is the loneliest hobby of all.