Hype

I've recently followed the RSS feed of Jank, a newly-created independent arts and culture website talking about video games. It's not a reinvention of the wheel, rather a more calmer and (hopefully) more sustainable approach to the modern internet. They write articles out of enthusiasm, rather than commercial needs. Truly radical stuff.

In a recent article, this point is raised about video games release cycles and hype trains:

[Compared to books] I wish we did more of the same in videogames. Our equivalent discourse gets as far as ranking the best games of the year that was, and then immediately moves on to anticipating the next year's new releases, pre-emptively stuffing our backlogs with games we'll rue not having had the time to play when the next year draws to a close. Couldn't we set ourselves some more interesting constraints?

The problem - I don't think I'm blowing anyone's mind here - is in part that videogames culture is so commercial. Publishers make money by selling you something new, and the relentless marketing cycle has seeped into everything. Our awards shows are about games that aren't out yet, all our websites are mainly about games that aren't out yet or have just come out. Gaming discourse lies downstream from that, talking about games for two weeks after their release, then mostly falling silent until the inevitable remake or remaster.

I haven't cared about modern video games for a few years. I maintain that if a game is good, it will stay good, and still be in a perfectly playable state in 5 or 10 years. Plus, if people are still talking about it years after release, it's fabulous praise for the longevity of the media. This approach stays true for TV shows, films, books, and other media that I meticulously avoid for increasingly petty reasons.

Anime stopped being an interest around a decade ago. Having entered the space via watching older works - Evangelion, Gurren Lagann, Serial Experiments Lain, Steins;Gate - I found myself following youtube^[1] channels relentlessly pushing the Next Big Thing. Seasonal releases of anime on a strict schedule led to hype trains being tactically pre-generated weeks before release. Whiny American accents told me how Isekai Bullshit or Hype Shounen Fight was going to be ah-bsolutely INSANE.

It never was, of course. The anime comes out, a few frames of smug anime girl does the rounds on /r/animemes for an embarassing amount of time, before you blink and find yourself smothered by yet another character you've never heard of. It's been three months! Go watch Isekai Bullshit: Rebellion, everyone else is doing it! Or don't, and post the same fucking meme format picture like everyone else.

I miss very little of this. The microsecond-level satisfaction that comes from being in with the crowd swiftly disappears, and you're left chasing the next burst of hype. This feels true across any media that any yappertron is telling you to engage in. And truly disconnecting from this is more difficult than expected.

As far as disengaging from modern media goes, Turboautism has been surprisingly helpful with this journey. My brain rewards me for engaging in things I know I'll enjoy, rather than running the risk of trialling a new thing for 10+ hours that may or may not deliver dopamine. This is beneficial in that I can avoid new releases with ease, but often run the risk of missing out on things I would genuinely enjoy. If I don't understand in advance that The Thing is good for me, I often don't entertain the thought of it.

The downside of this is that engagement in media feels inherently tied into socialisation. Casual office conversation often rotates around the new big TV show. I continually refuse to spend my free time on reserving brain space for pleasing others outside of a core social circle. Which is a placid way of saying I make terrible office chat. In friend circles, I feel a lack of connection that could be gained from understanding several thousand pages of Brandon Sanderson writing. I tell myself I have better things to do, but lose out because of it.

My compromise in recent years has been engaging in media after hearing praise of it from a trusted mutual. Caoimhe's curated media archive has rarely failed to deliver something memorable. Which is far more of a renowned adjective to me than something just being "good". We watch something cracked from the 1980s, and it becomes a small but special part of my brain matter. Watching something one of us has already seen, and the other hasn't, is always a delight. Caróg's film taste has a similar effect, delivering oddities I'd never otherwise encounter, often bizarre and never dull.

This approach is fun and memorable, but difficult to sustain, in that I'm reliant on cool people to recommend cool stuff until the end of time. I attempt to alleviate things by cooking tasty meals for people and hoping they don't notice my inability to suggest anything for the next movie night. I'm sure they won't notice :3