I need to play my favorite game every day or else I’ll die. Similarly, if I continue playing this game I will kill myself. So you can see the predicament that I’m in. When I cry I can’t even tell if they’re sad tears or tears of joy. I hate this game so much I can’t even bring myself to write its name.
I’ve been playing since I was 9 years old and I’m 25 now. Most of the anger I’ve ever felt can be traced back to this game, and yet I must return every day with a smile on my face, duty-bound to feel the pain of playing it. When I win, I feel like God himself, smiting those who have desecrated the world I have created. When I lose, I simply blame the devs so the rage stays tucked away deep inside my hollow soul.
The best part about my favorite game is how it’s got its own unique style, but its main appeal is that it’s unfinished and broken. What’s the point of playing a game that works every time you open it? Where’s the mystery in that? It’ll break for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and it ruins my entire week because that means I can no longer ruin my entire week by playing it. I get hostile towards everyone I know because I was momentarily freed from the eternal prison that is this game and I love every second of it.
Every time I uninstall the game to try to fix one of the many issues that makes it unplayable, I sit there for a second after. Should I reinstall it? Or should I move on, become happy again, and probably become a billionaire with all the free time I’d suddenly have?
But time and time again, I find myself reinstalling like the trained pain-seeking dog I am. The lure is simply too powerful. I can always feel I’m only way-too-many Gigabytes of hard drive space away from going to bed angry again. Sure, my routine is slowly killing me inside, but it’s my routine! I need my routine.
At this point I am sure you are aware of my favorite game. I’ll tell you, but only because we’ve trauma bonded over this together and you seem cool. It’s Burger King Pocket Bike Racer.
