An animator that I subscribe to on YouTube, vewn, recently released a wonderful (and long!) new project called Catopolis. I recommend checking it out here. Watching this video brought down the rabbit hole and I stumbled across an older animation of hers that I happen to love:
FLOATLAND
The animation depicts a nostalgic scene: messy cozy carpeted bedroom, big CRT, and an even bigger game for the protagonist to get lost inside. The main character, lit by that warm static glow, smiles with glee as she builds up a digital garden, fights monsters, and flirts with the game’s charming romance avatar. The images are edenic, a gamer’s paradise. She seems to have endless free time to enjoy an open ended gaming experience, and there is seemingly nobody around to disturb it. The pure joy of the immersion eventually gives way to boredom, of course, and then a depression. She ignores texts from friends. The alcohol bottles and burnt cigarette butts begin to stand out a lot more. The loneliness is palpable here.
Despite the spiral into despondency, the video does not actually end on a sour note. It’s hopeful, actually. The protagonist eventually completes the game. She reaches level 99 in all of the game’s various activities and discovers “true love” with the romance guy. From there, the game ends, and the protagonist peels away from the screen, crawls across her room, and opens a window. Natural light and color return!
“You’ve reached your fullest potential here in Floatland. It’s time to say goodbye.”
Anyone that has played a game like this, be it World of Warcraft or Runescape or Minecraft or Sonic Adventure 2 Battle Chao Garden, might see the fantasy here. Open ended games don’t usually say goodbye. They are designed, in fact, to be lived in. Players can grind and build endlessly until the gameplay loops feel familiar. I find that the allusions to drug use in this animation are apt–nothing makes life in the virtual world more engaging than a drink or a smoke. Even when all the pleasure and surprise is utterly sucked dry, the habits can feel like a cage. The game isn’t going to give you a key anytime soon.
And that is why I love how this animation ends. After the climactic existential moment, there is a true release. Vewn doesn’t actually provide us any concrete escape. In fact, the protagonist doesn’t even smile as she looks beyond her window, but a weight is lifted nonetheless.
I have found that, as I get older, my hunger for stimulation has not abated, but compelling myself to discover new sources for that stimulation has gotten more difficult. It is easier to sit in my chair and stare at virtual worlds both new and well trodden than to get up and go outside. When I do finally get out there, however, I am reminded that the physical world, forests and fields and cities, are a thousand thousand times more complex and interesting than anything anybody has ever rendered in a game. A drink and a smoke make these places more interesting too, so best take that habit outside too if you really must.