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Gaming is one of those activities that somehow manages to feel both incredibly important and completely pointless at the exact same time, depending on whether you’re currently winning, losing, or waiting through a loading screen that seems to exist purely to remind you that patience is a finite resource. It begins innocently enough — you launch a game “just for a few minutes,” maybe to relax, maybe to check something, maybe because you deserve a break — and then suddenly it is several hours later, you have no clear memory of what you accomplished in real life, and yet you feel as though you have lived multiple lifetimes as a warrior, pilot, manager, survivor, or professional person-who-collects-shiny-things.
Modern gaming exists in a strange ecosystem where graphics strive for photorealism while players immediately turn motion blur off, reduce shadows, and lower settings to gain three extra frames per second, because smoothness has become a spiritual experience. Entire universes are built with painstaking detail — dynamic weather, realistic physics, nuanced character animations — only for someone to spend most of their time jumping repeatedly in one spot, spinning in circles, or testing whether the game lets you climb a rock you were clearly not meant to climb. Multiplayer adds another layer, transforming peaceful exploration into a chaotic social experiment where strangers coordinate perfectly for five seconds and then blame each other for everything for the next twenty minutes.
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