“We play. We play a lot. And for it we see things differently than all of the people who ever came before us. Literally, we see things differently.
We of the silicon generation live in a pseudo, near constant hypnagogic state. A lucid threshold consciousness in which the vibrancies of the gamerverse shift into reality, pulling us in and out of the slipstream. The walls they come tumbling down and for a time it’s hard to distinguish between the layers.
When I put my controller down and step outside into the bright cloudless sky I can see screen-tearing, pixelation, rendering. Are these my sea legs or are these augmented realities not my realities? Am I still playing a game?
The Ancients believed that to glimpse the mystical the illusions of our world first had to be splintered. The afterworld was built on top of this world. To get at God you had to mistrust your senses. So drunkenness was next to godliness. To unhinge the mind was to set it free and to peek behind the astral curtain.
Psychology refers to it as the Game Transfer Phenomena. Visual and auditory conditioned responses. Echoes of extended gameplay. We are Pavlov’s dogs, programmed by developers to react instinctually to specific stimuli.
In other words there is no Matrix, there is no God, just a few thousand programmers elbow deep into our cerebral cortex. Our basic neurological impulses tweaked in a postproduction edit. Our brains a scramble from too many video games.
I prefer the mystical. A glimmer into something that we’ve lost in our rush toward the future. Something ancient. Something greater than
ourselves that the stimulation of video games allows us to perceive. The relativity of reality? God as programmer, arranging and rearranging
the configuration of the atoms that is us.”