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Gil makes a very good point. I always feel like I've gorged too much on a bad thing after an extended multiplayer session, no matter what the game.
I may feel empty in the inside, but at least my Spartan looks badass.
After concluding another longer-than-planned session of Halo: Reach multiplayer this weekend, I laid back, shut my eyes, and let out a restless groan indicative of the numb, tingly feeling coursing through my brain. I had spent another four-plus hours absorbed in the game’s matchmaking arena -- Team Slayer being my preferred poison -- and in true weekend form, I found myself hungover.
I hate this feeling, for more reasons than the obvious discomfort it causes. I hate it for the evil, un-gamerlike thoughts it inspires, the ones that surface when you realize that the sun has vanished without you noticing and your only diminutive form of self-improvement for the day was a decent string of positive killspreads. And once that feeling hits you, all you can do is contemplate the value of several lost hours that will never respawn again.
I’ve always been a proponent for the intellectual value of video games, but I still find myself defeated in deciphering online multiplayer’s relevancy to that belief. Is it a fallacy to think long exposure with any art form that provides true intellectual sustenance would exhaust the mind in a more positive manner? Yes, mental fatigue and irritation are expected; however, in the pursuit of intellectual stimulation, the end always justifies the means. Ultimately, to be intellectually satisfied is to feel fulfilled, an experience invaluable by comparison to the time and effort used to acquire it.
Any number of Link’s adventures through Hyrule in The Legend of Zelda series have satisfied me in this manner. Chrono Trigger, regardless of its age and the number of playthroughs I’ve done, has similarly never disappointed. I even found the Halo: Reach single-player campaign deep and cerebral enough to motivate several intellectually rewarding playthroughs.
The same can not be said for its online multiplayer -- or most online multiplayer, for that matter.
Let’s face it: The “kill or be killed” formula predominant in the online realm screams cockfight more than art. Developers construct an arena and then throw competing gamers into it to rip each other’s heads off. Sure, these deathmatches are fun, but rewarding in a meaningful sense? Not so much.
Like it or not, we're roosters.
Try as developers might to coerce gamers into recognizing their online offerings as rewarding forms of entertainment, their attempts are usually superficial. For instance, my 4-plus hours of Team Slayer got my avatar a higher ranking, a new helmet, and a pair of shoulder pads. Unfortunately, it’s becoming more and more commonplace to conceal the absence of intellectual substance with as many trivial rewards as possible.
Why does this matter? It matters because the video game is arguably the most misunderstood artistic medium. How can we expect others to grasp a video game’s worth when we are unable to claim confidently that all facets of our favorite pastime possess the intellectual value expected of legitimate art?
It’s clear that online multiplayer isn’t going away. It has ingrained itself as a gaming standard capable of making or breaking even the most anticipated AAA titles. But until developers can transfer the intellectual resonance emitted through single-player story lines into the online multiplayer arena, then playing online games will be more akin to smoking a cigarette than visiting a museum.
I’m rooting for this change, and I believe enough in the talents of current-gen developers to assuredly say that a more fulfilling online experience will one day come to fruition. For the medium’s sake -- and for my mind's -- I hope that day comes sooner rather than later.
