I remember the exact moment I realized that the things I did "counted." It was the spring of 1996 and I was sitting in my 8th grade French class. My teacher was describing my upcoming French final and reminded the class that, due to the peculiarities of New York State's education system, this was a High School Test and my grade would appear on my High School Transcript. "Shit!" I thought, "If I fuck this up I won't get into college!" I don't know why it hit me so hard. For one thing, due to other New York peculiarities, the Math final I had taken the previous year had also been a High School Test and that grade already appeared on my High School Transcript. That French test seemed important, though (I got a 98, by the way, sufficiently un-fucked up to permit my admission to a State University). If my life ever became interesting enough to warrant a biography, the above would be a good opening scene.* It also helps to explain my love of video games and why I hate competitive multiplayer.
My life exists within a cruel, indelible world; when I do something, it's done. Same for you, of course. I've enjoyed most of my choices so far. I love my wife, I like being a lawyer, I've mostly enjoyed the places I've lived. But on my shoulder, someone is whispering "yes, but..." Do I like my life? Yes, but what if I was a writer, or a sociology professor? What if I had gone to a different law school in a new, unfamiliar city? What if I had tried out for football in 9th grade instead of doing cross county? I probably would have become a famous Quarterback! I'm not looking back with regret, but with curiosity. My primary opportunity cost is lost information. What could have happened? That may not sound like a big deal, but I value information very highly. I regularly go to wikipedia to figure out which year a particular song or movie came out, and then suddenly realize that two hours have passed and I'm looking at the entry for Macho Man Randy Savage.
Video games are great for someone like me. The "yes, but" opportunities in newer, spawling, "choice-y" games like Fallout 3** or Mass Effect, or games with class or faction choice like Diablo II or Starcraft are pretty clear. But I was getting the same thrills back when I was nine and playing Final Fantasy first with a balanced party, but then with all Fighters and then with all Mages or playing through Mega Man 2 using only the regular arm cannon. The benefit I got from all that was the opportunity to undo a choice. I get to do the same thing over again with different parameters and see what the new consequences are. I don't need to play every game twice, but when I do play that second time, I want to be able to compare it to the first. Repeating events without being able to change them, or being forced to deal with consequences of the actions I took in my last game when I play my next game is too close to real life to enjoy. That's what prevents me from enjoying competitive multiplayer games.
I'll admit that any true and honest accounting of my disdain for competitive multiplayer would encompass more than just that, though. First, X-Box Live is a cesspool. I think the conditions there get slightly exagerated sometimes, but while I didn't hear someone (myself included) get called a black homosexual (I'm paraphrasing) every time I played Gears of War 2, it probably happened most times. Beyond that, I'm simply not an elite player. I'll occasionally rack up a huge kill count, or something, but I'm never going to be among the best, and I'm often going to get matched with some man or woman I have no hope of competing with unless I practiced and got much better.
Here's the problem: I don't want to get better. That's not because I don't like the games; I keep playing First Person Shooters and I generally enjoy them. It's also not because I don't like competition or getting the better of someone; I am a lawyer, remember. No, it's because when I play multiplayer, everything I do counts. I have a spot on a ladder, or a ranking, or a win-loss record. To get "good" I'd have to play dozens or hundreds of rounds. But every death-match, every captured flag, is a playthrough I'll never be able to duplicate and never be able to tinker with. They're coded messages that disappear before I can decipher them. And I'm stuck the results, and my associated rank, when I load up the next match. Becoming a headshot master who pwns noobs isn't a big enough reward to overcome all that. I'd still ask myself "what would have happened if only I had picked up the AK instead if the sniper rifle?" I'd never know, but my guess is that I probably would have become a famous Quarterback.
*The title would be John Fanshawe: A Profile of Risk Aversion.
**Incidentally, what I liked best about the moral choice system in Fallout was how few differences there were between my Asshole and Awesome Guy playthroughs. I hope this subtle Machiavellian ethos was intentional, but, unfortunately, I kind of doubt it was.
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