Absurdism and Video Games

This has been a personal project which has gone through many iterations - I originally wanted to make this into a YouTube video, but then realised I don't have the voice for it.

Okay just a quick disclaimer - I am not an expert. Whilst I find it personally fascinating, I have done minimal research on this topic because life’s too short (as this touches on.)

Most people are fairly comfortable with the idea of nihilism (in that everything is essentially meaningless - so what is the point, hopefully not the idea itself..) The opposite to nihilism is generally considered to be existentialism - which is (generally) linked to theism in some form.

If these were to be placed on a spectrum, absurdism would become some kind of ‘third way’;

I made this! I thought it was pretty funny.

Absurdism recognises the purposelessness nature of the universe, and despite a knowledge of this, encourages humans to live on in it. It is the antithesis to nihilism. By accepting the very same principles that nihilism sets and out draws to the conclusion of hopelessness, absurdism comes to the conclusion of acceptance, and for me personally, a strange, lonely, kind of optimism.

[In reference to the absurdism alternative]

‘Full recognition and acceptance of our absurd situation of the harshnesses and slights of life of the fact that we will probably never attain absolute truth an purpose and not surrendering to that in a blaze of nihilism, but living in spite of it.

A revolt against meaninglessness itself.’

-exurb1a (Absurdism | How to Party at the End of Meaning☄️)

Now to link this to video games.

Outer Wilds is a strange game. The game throws the player into a (quite literally) brand new universe with essentially no explanation, then after 22 minutes of talking to some strange looking aliens, and wondering why there was a spaceship in the main menu, your screen turns white and flashes glimpses of the your last 22 minutes back at you. The most observant players may soon realise that the sun had exploded.

This is not, in fact, a developer oversight but a the core mechanic of Outer Wilds.

Essentially, the player is given 22 minutes to grab as much information as possible from solving puzzles and talking to NPCs before they are sent straight back to Timber Hearth (the planet with all those strange looking aliens) to do it all over again. You see, Outer Wilds works on the basis that the player must actively choose carefully how to spend these 22 minutes to advance their knowledge of the game’s universe. This is how players progress - by slowly piecing together a coherent story so as to solve puzzles and eventually reach the final cutscene.

In the same way Outer Wilds gives you 22 minutes, the most fortunate of us might get 100 years. 100 years to experience everything. 100 years to have children. 100 years to make something of yourself. 100 years to write a Substack. Unfortunately you have just been in a freak car accident at 24 because you got in someone’s car who was under the influence of something, and now you are permanently wheelchair-bound. You weren’t one of the fortunate ones. Tough luck, there is no ‘next 22 minutes’ (probably.)

‘Death is inevitable in Outer Wilds’

(I really really like this video - I seem to remember writing about in for my Media exam)

I have recently finally gotten around to playing Night in the Woods. My god is it a good game. Primarily the game is about exploring the characters and how they tie into the mysteries of Possum Springs. This doesn’t mean the game shies away from asking big questions however. About halfway through, you can choose to hangout with a character, who you may well have never spoken to before. Without spoiling too much, you find yourself sat on a log, watching the stars with this character, whose name is Angus. During this sequence, Angus describes his childhood, and how he was neglected with his parents. As his monologue draws to a close - Angus says my favourite quote in the entire game.

‘I believe in a universe that doesn’t care and people who do.’

The first time I read this, I felt a way I had never felt before. It made me remember this whole project. It made me want to finish it, in some form. It doesn’t perfectly align with aburdism philososphy, but it makes me feel the same way I did when I first read about it.

I suppose by accepting the hopelessness of where we all find ourselves, desperately searching for some kind of meaning, when we know damn well there are milennia of people who came before us who also couldn’t find it - it feels reassuring to hear there is none.

Now I am going to make an extremely tenious link between aburdism and Red Dead Redemption 2. If I’m honest with you, I will take any oppotunity to talk about this games effect on me. Red Dead Redemption 2 follows the gradual decline of the ‘American Dream’ or at least how a group of ruthless outlaws decide to interpret it. In much the same way that it is impossible to pinpoint the moment Walter White became Heisenburg in Breaking Bad, it is impossible to determine the exact moment that Dutch van der Linde sealed the fate of his lifelong companions.

For the vast majority of the game the player controls lifelong outlaw Arthur Morgan as he and the rest of the gang are forced from camp to camp, fleeing be it from the law, corporations, or other gangs. A core mechanic in Red Dead Redemption 2 is the honour system, wherein the actions of the player controlling Arthur effect a sort of ‘honour score.’ For instance unnecessarily killing NPCs strolling down Valentine will decrease Arthur’s honour, whereas saving a woman who was kidnapped increases honour. Where a player finds themselves on this scale determines key events within the story, especially the ending. But it also effects interactions with everyday NPCs and gang members. Some missions require a certain honour level to complete, however these are rarely vital for progression.

My point is, there is nothing the player can do to stop the innevertable deteriation of the van der Linde gang. No amount of greeting strangers and saving kidnapped women stops the events of Red Dead Redemption 2 unfolding.

But a high honour Red Dead Redemption playthrough is likely to change your perspective forever. The people you talk to, and the way you choose to do so, is what defines the way you remember the game - not the things you can’t change.

On my second playthrough of the game, I watched on as I saw character after character I knew die through no fault of my own with a strange optimism that I didn’t have during my first playthrough. I knew how it was always going to end, so worrying about it seemed pointless. I just wanted to live life in a way that left a positive impact on others. I lived, in spite of the meaninglessness.

I have wanted to make something like this for a long time now. It feels good to have finally done it, or at least something similiar to what I originally envisioned. I imgine the moment I put this up I’ll think “damnit! You should have said this!” Or “Why did I talk so much about Red Dead?!” I may be prone to adding some footnotes, or an entirely new article. I think my main takeaway from the aburdist philosophy is life is too short not to just make a Substack on the stuff you care about. So, thank you for reading this, if indeed, you still are. (I promise I will get on those stories I claimed I would post before - I just had to get this out of my system.) (And seriously, play Night in the Woods.)