If you've ever sent me a chat or game invite, I probably ignored it. And fret not, I feel like an asshole. But maybe this will help explain why. Also (unrelated), WHERE'S MY FUCKING VIVE, HTC?! I'M LOSING MY SHIT!
I have a confession to make: I’m socially awkward.
Not in real life. God no. I’m awesome at that. Not for lack of effort though. I grew up in the middle of the woods on a tiny, bridgeless island in South Carolina, with nothing to keep me company but my trusty PS1 and AOL’s Final Fantasy VII chatrooms. As a result of my isolation, cars and computers interested me more than my “image” (I wasn’t even aware of the concept), leaving me to arrive for my first day of high school after a 45 minute, 5am school boat ride with a bowl haircut and a Garfield Trapper Keeper. I assumed people would like me because of my mint condition Marvel Series 2 card collection [Fig. 1]
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| Fig. 1's not gonna work, 14-year-old-me! No matter the lack of foxing! No one even knows what that means! |
High school was rough.
I spent my twenties learning to be social. Slowly, methodically, and with a little help from ample portions of bravery gravy. [Fig 2.]
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| Fig. 2 - Looooots of Fig. 2. |
I learned to talk to people. More importantly I learned to listen (occasionally... I’m a little hyperactive), eventually landing a job as a bartender and in the “big city,” [Fig. 3] and cementing myself as a functional adult. Complete with a carefully cultivated image.
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| Fig. 3 - Ok, not that big, but it's damn sure pretty... And drunk. |
Meanwhile, however, the internet was deciding that everybody needed to talk to each other. Like, actually talk. With words. Fucking constantly. The chats and blogs and IM conversations and “gg’s” hastily typed into Unreal Tournament 2k4’s console that had been the balm I rubbed on my social wounds each day had turned to one-way social media conversations and in-game party chats. Which brings us (finally) to my social shortcomings: I’m awful at party chat. I hate it. It reminds me of high school. And not just because of the number of teenagers with whom I frequently find myself sharing a skill level. #MLG #rekt
I get nervous and hide from party chat invites. If I accept, my heart rate increases and my gameplay skills falter. The social armor and weaponry I spent so much time developing is completely useless when I can’t use my image. An image I’ve spent so much time living with, it’s permanently attached to my personality like the Venom Symbiote. In party chat I can’t be myself (whatever that means), the things I say do nothing to define or endear me to others, and I’m generally a complete wreck; I’m fucking 14 again. And much like that socially awkward Ned of yesteryear, my concern isn’t that people won’t like me if they get to know me. It’s that I’ll poorly communicate who I am, leaving people with the wrong impression. My preoccupation with that concern is certainly worth exploring, but not in a stream of consciousness blog written on one cup of coffee.
This problem is in no way mitigated by social gaming having reached its zenith of late. The fun of many games hinges on their social components (DotA2, The Division), minimizing or in many cases eliminating the solo-play experience. This is a concept pushed by publishers and developers, reinforced by the so-saturated-it-will-never-dry let’s play phenomenon, and the maddeningly voyeuristic reality of Twitch and Youtube Gaming. Party chat invites come and go constantly on PS4 and Steam, and I cringe every time I see and subsequently ignore them. “Shit,” I think “I haven’t even said anything and all these people think I’m an asshole...”
At this point I'm left with two options: Play nothing but single-player and solo-multiplayer games, tearing a large portion from the canvas of modern gaming, or suck it up and learn how to be social in a whole new way. Develop new social armor and weaponry. Upgrade it. Level up.
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