The Great Escape

MY NAME IS SINAN
For some, playing through a videogame isn’t always about the story or the graphics, but about the journey – not just that of the protagonist and their supporting cast, but for you, as a person. RPGs and a few shooters here and there have a faceless hero mechanic that allows you to basically imprint your own characteristics, personality and – game permitting – looks onto the main character. This mechanic only heightens that level of escape, and Sinan Kubba – features director at The Game Reviews and host of the Big Red Potion podcast – explains why.

“Mother Teresa once said,’The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.’ Of course, there are far worse things than being lonely, but it doesn’t feel that way when you are. You pray for the smallest of interactions and dwell on insecurity with solitude. To the wrong man at the wrong time, loneliness can be exceptionally damaging.

After a particularly bad day – nay, a particularly bad month at my university – I acted like a complete jerk towards one of my good friends. I said some truly awful, hurtful things that I deeply regret.  Nor did I deal with it well afterwards. It was the wrong time, and the wrong man emerged out of it. The wrong man subsequently got shunned not just by said friend but by his entire group of friends – and deservedly so, I might add.

And just like that, I was alone. I’d dealt with being alone before: when changing schools, when my parents divorced, and when I broke up with my first girlfriend. But it’s not the same as being made an outcast by those you care about – especially when you deserve it. For weeks I craved forgiveness that didn’t seem forthcoming, and grew to dwell on a prevailing self-hatred.

Thankfully, the right game came along at the right time. The right game offered rich, exotic landscapes and an endearing cast of characters. The right game masterfully told a story of love, of companionship, of trust and of self-sacrifice. The right game challenged me to think, challenged me in its play, and challenged me to invest in its many hours until its tremendous climax. The right game at the right time was Final Fantasy X.

All of these constituents played a part in the escapism that Final Fantasy X provided. Its colourful, Far Eastern reverie whisked me away to a personal Neverland. I grew bonds with its characters, listening as the resolute Yuna extolled on the trials of expectation, holding back tears as she and Tidus first kissed in the glittering waters of Lake Macalania. I engaged fully with its tricky combat, not relenting even when it frustrated me to excess. I threw myself into all of it, through day and night, until the game was over all too soon. I’m not sure how quick the fifty hours I ploughed into Final Fantasy X went by, but the pace probably wasn’t healthy.

Yet the game was exactly what I needed, therapeutic almost. At first it distracted me, then it engaged me, and in its latter stages it challenged me to improve. Nonetheless, it was just the right game at the right time. But the right game at the right time can become something special.

Eventually, my apologies were accepted and all was forgiven and forgotten. Months later, my best friend was going through his own rough time. I invited him over to play Final Fantasy X, watching and reliving as he pressed through his emotional journey. A year after that, I introduced my now girlfriend to Final Fantasy X, again watching her play it from start to finish. Sharing this special, personal thing with people I deeply cared for was like release, an exoneration of the crippling loneliness and guilt I’d felt before my first playthrough.

Final Fantasy X was there for me when no-one else was. A good game can make you smile, a great game can make you happy, but the right game at the right time can be so much more.”

[Continues...]

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