I have spent a lot of time playing video games. I remember some of the first games I played, online at a website called orisinal.com, I think. My mother introduced the website to my brother and me, excited for us to try them after she found out about them somewhere. Ironically, she later grew contempt for our gaming as we got older and often shirked our responsibilities in favor of games. I used to wonder why she introduced the games to us, given the anti-game stance she later developed. I used to think that maybe she thought the games were kid-friendly and didn't realize their potential for distraction from more important things. Looking back now, I think she saw something beautiful in them. She is a graphic designer, and often expresses appreciation for things she finds well-designed. In light of Artful Design Chapter 6 about game design, and with more distance from our confrontations about games, I realize now that my mom might have told my brother and me about Orisinal the same way she remarks about a well-made chair or an elegant lamp. She explains about the shapes and the minimalism of the design of mid-century furniture similarly to how Ge analyzes the design of games through the lenses of mechanics, dynamics, and aesthetics.
I remember my favorite games on Orisinal through the experience of playing them, formed by their mechanics, dynamics, and aesthetics. Because of their design, I still feel emotional connections to those games. I remember most vividly a side-scrolling robot action game. The aesthetics come back to me first. In the game, you played a round robot with triangular limbs navigating an inhospitable planet with spiky projectiles and other hazards. The color scheme was black and red. The dynamics used arrow keys, and I remember how the robot felt clunky to move, which gave it personality and added challenge. The different components of the game's design collectively made me feel fearful and hopeless. In a different game, there were shiny skeuomorphic colorful little cubes arranged in a grid. I think you would drag down from the bottom and release to send a cube along a gentle parabolic trajectory onto the grid, where it would pop adjacent cubes of the same color. The launching was strictly outside of the mechanics of the game, but the dynamic choice and its aesthetic execution felt so satisfying and smooth as compared to simply clicking where to place the cube. I also remember there were glistening rainbow cubes with special powers that lit everything up when they popped. Echoes of other games flash through my memory, one about a train, one about a snowball. All of these games were more than just how they worked or how you played them or how they looked. Each of these elements came together to create a consuming experience. They made you feel enveloped in their world, not insisting on their objectives so that you could not only play them but play with them, and even express yourself with them. As Ge describes, they created a sense of flow and an embodiment of our humanity by balancing ludus and paidia, structured and unstructured play.
Over the years, I would frequent numerous Flash game sites, like Nitrome, Addicting Games, Armor Games, NotDoppler. Even Hot Wheels, Lego, Wonka, and Wrigley all had excellent Flash game selections. Each website and game author had a distinct overall feel. I spent hours and hours playing some games and even sequels, sometimes multiple, to browser games I loved. Looking back, I am extremely fond of these games as a significant part of my childhood and adolescence. However, I also see how I used games to cope with anxieties about work and distract myself from unpleasant emotions. Although I greatly enjoyed games, I often played them instead of caring for myself in a more substantive way. I felt a lot of shame and guilt about playing games, knowing I was neglecting my responsibilities and needs. Now, since 2021, Flash no longer exists, the medium on which I played many of the games I loved is gone. With the rise of mobile gaming, many of the browser game developers I devoutly followed don't make browser games anymore. Augmenting their mechanics, dynamics, and aesthetics, time has imbued these games with nostalgia and impermanence. Years later, I still enjoy the time I spent playing all those beautifully designed games, remembering how it felt to play them, knowing those beautiful feelings only exist in the past.