I re-read my favorite books again , but somehow, the magic's gone.
What was once a gateway to hours of fun , is just a string of words.
The same happens with some of my cherished video games.
I can rip through the motions , kill all the villains and end missions within five to ten
minutes and come out feeling robbed.
While I have fond
memories of the worlds created in both my books and games, when I go
back, the first thing that hits me is that the experience is scripted and bounded.
The last time a friend of mine was playing Mafia, and was struggling to steer
the taxi AND outrun Morello's hoods at the same time, and I was trying to advise him
on what to do ... I got a glimpse of myself when the game was completely unfamiliar
yet attractive.