After inheriting an x-box (what once was new now old school) along with a bunch of games, I have come to a new appreciation of video games. Now mind you, I have not owned a gaming system since the PlayStation 1 and before that, the now ancient Nintendo.
The first game I played was Halo 1; beat it. And then Halo 2; beat it. I enjoyed both of them very much with fulfilling excitement and satisfaction/gratification - wiping out seemingly insurmountable hoards of aliens and artificial intelligence for the accomplishment of meeting the next checkpoint. After thoroughly enjoying the Halo games, defeating them on normal (yes, I know, not much skill involved. But like I said, I have not owned a system for quite some time), I began to play Splinter Cell.
At first, the process was begrudgingly slow. The pace of the game and the care required to partake in a certain task drove my patience. However, with any art, the beginning drives one's patience and unbeknownst to us we are frustrated with the craft at hand. And yes, it may be bold to say that playing "video games" (you know with that sarcastic voice) is a craft and art, but with any process where one is required to learn in order to do something well, a video game requires one to learn from a trial and error perspective eventually coming to that peak of sufficient perfection to pass on towards the next part in the sequence.
But before I consider the philosophical importance - in its truest sense (a love of wisdom) - I would like to glorify the graphic magnificence of Splinter Cell. The detail and the significance placed on shadows were absolutely awesome. Amazing. ‘K, ‘nuff said.
The intricacies in the story line and the overtone of defeating conspiracies within governmental agencies make the story engaging. But The actual joy and gratification from the game is in the full engagement of the trial and error process. At first, encountering a novel situation, one reacts in the way one would react as a person controlling a character in a video game in the process of overcoming the next obstacle. However, once we die, or fail - and we all do, in that first attempt, we learn a little something about the situation. We try again. We die, fail. But once again, we've learned something again about the situation. Again and again, we die, fail, learn something new, and try again. Die, fail, learn, try - repeat. And after so many times, we marinate the situation with perfection. We know everything, where the lights are, where the guards are going to move - so that we could sit there in the perfect spot with a perfect head shot just waiting to happen. In time, we discover the best strategy to pass the situation. And achieving that is mundane bliss; satisfaction in accomplishment at its purest. The game is not only one of accomplishing the objective of the game, but a thrusting paradigm of interacting with the artificial intelligence (AI). We are forced to learn the patterns that manifest in the game and how they change when the character engages or makes a mistake. Splinter cell, like many other games, is an intuitive interaction with the programmed AI.
The philosophical take is this: Much of life is an art, turned chore, turned habit. The experience of trial and error and eventual accomplishment is a statement of patience; allowing things to develop and understanding the situation to an ultimate performance in anticipation and execution. Life as art, task, and habitual motion, is in the appreciation of the details that returns the appreciation back to an acceptance of art as task, as habitual motion, in a sequential progression of advancement in achievement. The initial frustration, from things not coming easily, is ubiquitous and even observable in infants who wish to walk but their bones are yet to be strong enough. The task is overcoming the initial frustration. Not to deny emotions in any stoic sense but to understand what the emotion is - feeling then understanding the feeling from the circumstances that provoked them. It is also a statement about history. Advancement toward a goal – political or otherwise – involves the necessity of not ignoring the historicity of processes. The political history and a system towards a peaceful humanity is a struggle between the governed and the govern-ers.
The negation of history is a negation of evolving societal structure and government. The negation of self and the history of one’s self is the negation of one's evolving personal structural development. The beauty and progress of trial and error should not be lost. The patience to observe and understand then executing is one to not be forgotten. The significance and investigations stemming from history are critical. It is the importance and criticality of historical understanding and the importance to think about the aim, the telos, of progression.