Guess we're at the end now. As a send-off to this place, I'm writing about a different genre entirely, courtesy of this one weird self-reflection session. This is about rhythm games and what draws me to them! If you're following me on twitter this won't exactly be out of nowhere.
Let me just... start by dispelling any thoughts of me having any sort of natural talent here. I am, historically, just not that good at rhythm games. I've never been good at hitting the right buttons because I have some annoying hand-eye coordination issues, some wires that end up crossed if I have to think about how to move in the right way.
I'm starting there specifically because the single most common reaction to talking about rhythm games is downplaying personal ability of a skill that can be unconsciously practiced. Just to nip that in the bud. The sole difference between me and anyone thinking something along those lines is this.
Well, maybe I've had a little bit of extra free time these days, but I don't think it'll be too different once my classes start back up. A little bit each day will make you learn better than any single huge session. The rest and reinforcement is part of the process. Anyways, let's get back on topic.
Actually, before I get into the main topic I'd like to use a second to mention the other thing I notice people say "oh i'm not good at them" as an immediate response, which is fighting games. You can be good at them if you try, I promise. You can be good at anything you put your mind to. That just isn't mine because, well, I don't like to fight. It's as simple as that.
We all get some traits from our parents. Nature, nurture, whatever, that part doesn't matter. What does matter is that one of the big things I've picked up from my father is a distinct aversion to competition against others. I don't like to lose, obviously, but winning doesn't make me feel that great either. Somewhere in the knowledge that it's a zero sum game someone has to lose, I lose my own purpose for competing. I don't like to feel either of those ways, so I avoid it, much like he does. So we both find something else. A different kind of purpose, something done for fun and self-improvement without competition. His is golf.
Just because there's no competition doesn't mean there's no goal, no aim. The target is my past self. I am already better than her. I am going to be better than I am right now. I'm not just saying that! This is an objective fact, shown in my high scores and full combos. The only person I have to prove anything to is myself, and having hard numbers like this makes it pretty hard to downplay it. I've played songs that made me think, "There's no way I can do this." and returned later with a full combo. I... might actually be pretty good.
The exact same moment that I realized that I had gotten a lot better, that it wouldn't matter to anyone but myself, that it doesn't matter how skilled I am in comparison to anyone else, I realized that this is exactly what golf is to my dad. This is my golf. My own personal golf.
...only took me fifteen years to figure out why i liked 'em so much, even if i thought i "wasn't good" at them.
