The Gaming Hoarder

“This is just my PS3 games!”

I’ve always felt that life should be a variation of new, stimulating motivators and old comfortable desires. Living by this acute mantra has allowed me to vary the person and personality I inhabit. I’ve been a rugged gunslinger, with a mysterious past and tortured soul, attempting to reunite myself with my apprehended family. I’ve survived horrific crashes courtesy of various unnamed assailants, ironically almost all involving planes, trains and auto-mobiles. I’ve experienced a flourishing career as England and Newcastle’s top goal scorer, endured the fragility of war as I combated Chimera in London, survived the terrible T-virus outbreak which afflicted so many unfortunate inhabitants, and learned the value of intricate and well-timed leaps as a runner. But these are all obviously my virtual accomplishments, all of which I’m defiantly proud of.

Most of us possess a deep seeded desire to collect, whether its clothes, comic books or if your Adam Sandler, Razzies. We all harbour these desires to form a collection, and my compulsion is games. I’m a gamer, a geek, and a hoarder of many bountiful antiquities (my vast collection of games). I’ve maintained every single PS1, PS2 and PS3 games I’ve ever accumulated, even owning every FIFA title since 03, and the thought of trading or selling my prized possessions leaves me physically reeling. To me, it’s a form of desertion, a kind of willful abandonment of prized memories. You’ve taken a journey with these games, fought hard and often frustrating battles, succumb to crippling defeats and overcome frustrating tribulations. Merely disposing of this games seems hugely disrespectful.

It’s imperative for me to preserve these games, its like my family album, my memories have been subliminally stored, in the gratifying and despondent instances of gaming. It’s an unspoken bond, an affinity, invoking long forgotten memories not just pertaining to your virtual achievements, but also a connectivity to actual conscious experiences. I find that I recall formerly lucid, events with added transparency when it’s connected in some way to a game I’ve played; like locating the last of the hidden packages in Vice City on your Birthday, or finally escaping Raccoon City on a wedding day (very romantic). The games you’ve played are indicative you, and aid you in representing your personality at that precise time; a survivor in a dilapidated city, a boxer rising through the ranks, a selfless hero or just your average Nord seeking fortune from pillaged tombs, these trials and personas are what defines you during these transient excursions.

 I’m probably over analysing the situation and fleshing out more poignant, relevancy from a an industry specifically contrived to entertain, and you could argue that it’s the equivalent of attempting to discover deeper significance in a Cheryl Cole song. But I truly believe that games are a technological link to our past, a commemoration of lost incidences. In the same way the ancient Egyptians used hyroglifics or alcoholics recollect last nights blurred occurrences, by checking their pockets (Hm? receipts, change and an appointment at an STI clinic? Uh Oh?!). So hold on to your games, and cherish the memories, because you never know when your retrospective inclinations will strike, and when they do your be glad you have an entire back catalogue of games, to elicit memories from.

How extensive is your collection? Or do you prefer trade your games? Let me know what you think.