Unboxing The Real Shit Goblins
LIFE: But… I Have Kids!
Today, I would like to talk to you about something I call kid privilege. Before you ask, I don’t have kids. Would I like to some day? Sure. I think kids are amazing, full of life, curiosity and passion. They pour their entire selves into everything they do. And then the next thing. Kids can also be little shit goblins. That’s cool. I too was a little shit goblin. Be that as it may, this thought isn’t about kids, it’s about the parents. You are the shit goblin enablers. It’s about the thinking that, somehow, because you procreated and now have to raise the fruits of your labor, the rest of us have to sympathize, let you cut in line and tolerate overall obnoxious behavior because, well, one day we’ll see how difficult raising kids is. Motion denied.
I’ll give you one example. With the relaxing of the coronavirus lockdown measures, kids are playing outside again. My building isn’t what you’d call soundproof so even if your windows are shut tighter than a millionaire’s conscience there’s still noise coming in, mostly because people take their kids out and venture no further than 10m (metric system) from the building. On a beautiful day, it doesn’t stop. Now, all of this wouldn’t bother me if there wasn’t a park literally 400m away. Two parks and a big grass-covered area, actually. But why take kids to the park when you can cause noise pollution for the entire neighborhood?
Now, if you think I’m being grinchy about this, I just want you to keep two things in mind. One, I’ve always dreamed making it to the ripe old age of don’t-give-a-damn where I can go completely off the rails without anyone caring. It’s the best thing about getting old! Go to the store in your bath robe? Check. Yell at the video game boss with your grand-kids uploading that crap to You-name-it tube? Check. So yeah, don’t really care what you think. The train has reached the station.
Secondly, imagine me and my drunk friends yelling and playing flag football in front of the building for an entire Saturday and you trying to get some quiet time with the kiddies asleep. Exactly. You don’t get special treatment because you have kids. It was YOUR choice, most of the time. Now, stop being a lazy parent and take your shit goblins to the park. In the park, they at least have swings and don’t play next to a dumpster. Additionally, a street gym is not a playground. This is a common mistake.
Trust me, the only people that care about you having kids are your family and closest friends (most of your friends are lying about this), I didn’t sign up for that yet. When I do, I’ll be flying my kids to the park in my car. *As I’m writing this there is a kid literally screaming his ass off in the hallway of my apartment block, helping to unclog my writer’s block. Just kid-ding, as with kids, I don’t have these. But I do have earplugs (and new Lamb of God — also my music entry for today’s blog).
GAMING: Unboxing 2 — The Genuine Experience
I want to talk about customer experience. Specifically, one company’s B2C customer experience. Thankfully, I remember a time when you bought a PC game and the box was more than just average box art. It contained a booklet with character profiles and unit types, it contained the special moves list, it went beyond the actual game to create that Christmas-like experience, getting you even more hyped to play it.
Why was this standard? Well, games were still considered art by those who made them, they were something their creators actually loved to do, which is why the box content came as standard. “Hey, you bought our game, here — enjoy it even more with this additional content.” Today, gaming has basically adopted the SaaS model. There is the standard package. Basically, your box with bland box art, the game dvd inside, a piece of paper with controls listed. Yeah, I play Playstation. Sue me, I’m old and like convenience now #pcmasterrace. Sigh.
Then there’s the sexy premium package. Basically, what came as standard with my Commandos box during my formative gaming years. Now, let’s examine the premium PREMIUM package, where you get a metal box, the game, maybe an extra disc packed with music or game art, a figurine of the transgender, quarter-white, quarter-Latino, quarter-cat, quarter-mushroom main character (nothing against it, just making my example fit the modern times) and stickers of Shroom City, where our hero begins the journey as a young paladin apprentice. If you’re willing to pay more, that is.
And that’s just the physical part. What about the in-game content? Way back when, when you bought the game, strangely enough, you got the full game. You know, the thing your parent’s money actually paid for, you got. Was a magical time, I tell ya. Today, when you buy a game, you get a quarter of the game now, quarter through patches, quarter through loot boxes, quarter through paid in-game content. Much like our paladin hero, called Upsell. “I dub thee Upsell, the Lord of Lootboxes!” I am surprised by how games are somehow exempt from the customer experience trap.
As consumers, if an app doesn’t install in like 7 seconds or does the job perfectly, we look for another app. If a streaming service doesn’t have everything we want to watch, we jump ship. But gamers are one group that seems perfectly content to pay for half-ass products and for somebody to regularly take a dump on their paid experience. 2K Sports and EA Sports take one to four dumps per year even — these ritual poops are called your FIFAs, Maddens etc.
I remember buying the Witcher 3 the day it came out. Having read some of the books, played all the Witchers thus far and completing Thronebreaker later on, I absolutely love that world. Oh the Netflix series, too. At 30, being already accustomed to the new standard of regular Playstation game boxes, I was shocked when I found the world map, laptop stickers plus a bunch of shit I can’t remember and a long, sincere “Thank you for supporting us” note from CD Projekt Red. None of this would have mattered one iota if the game ended up being crap, but I would argue that the game is a masterpiece BECAUSE the box had that stuff in it. They care about the player’s experience. They care about what they produce, they care about their game world and you as a player, because they are, and were, players themselves. Not gamers, players.
Genuine sells, but more importantly, genuine sells because it’s loved. I remember thinking to myself — they are like me. They like to make games they would like to play. Except I don’t make games but whatever. And it shows. Today, I got my Cyberpunk 2077 clothes shipment and wouldn’t you know it, it came in time, perfect size, carefully sealed, perfectly packed with a surprise thank you note and free stickers. In the end, I also bought the Witcher 3 twice, just because I wanted to help them continue building great games. Never change, CD Projekt Red, never change.
MOVIES: To Keep You Dancing
For a basketball fan watching The Last Dance on Netflix is as orgasmic as one might think, and it did get me thinking — with everyone STILL stuck inside (non-pro tip: Your government might be relaxing the lockdown, but I don’t think that anyone told the virus, so be smart about it) it’s a good a time as any for some recommendations. Here are my top 5 sports documentaries of all time, in no particular order — something to watch after you finish gorging on The Last Dance:
Senna (2010) — A gripping, personal and emotional journey of the best racing driver in history. Director Asif Kapadia shares a tremendous love for Ayrton, alongside his great passion for F1 and it really shows during every second of this epic documentary. God I loved Senna, a real tear-jerker this one.
24/7: Pens vs Caps (2011) — The first ever Road To The NHL Winter Classic done by HBO, it offered unprecedented access into the locker rooms of NHL’s two biggest rivals at the time ahead of their outdoor game at Heinz Field. In Sidney Crosby and Alex Ovechkin, the two teams featured two future top-10 players in NHL history and plenty of supporting star power. For the first time, the 4-part series shows deep insight into the daily life of a hockey team — and since it was the first such show, they didn’t know what to hide. Fantastic soundtrack.
A Kid From Coney Island (2020) — During his heyday, Stephon Marbury was one of my favorite players. Even Jordan couldn’t stop him. Lightning quick, could produce an eye-popping pass in a flash, deadly crossover. He was the first guy who tried to have a signature shoe that everyone could afford. Started loving tattoos because of him. Unfortunately, after his dad died, his psyche and career took a wrong turn. He got turned upside down by New York media and the business of basketball. Then he discovered China and got his life back. One of the biggest basketball regrets was not having a chance to see if he and The Big Ticket would have created a dynasty in Minnesota. A heartwarming, brutally sincere documentary that has something for everyone.
Baseball (1994) — Ken Burns could make a documentary about tumbleweed and I’d watch it glued to the screen, listening to the wonderful stories and narration. For some, baseball is much like tumbleweed, yet this is the most all-encompassing encyclopedia of any sport ever made. Ten hour or so long episodes cover every period of America’s favorite pastime and will undoubtedly make you become a fan of the game or at least, the history and its impact on civil rights, collective bargaining and life in general.
Red Army (2014) — A documentary about the most successful dynasty in sports history: the Red Army hockey team. Told from the perspective of captain Vyacheslav Fetisov, the story portrays his transformation from national hero to political enemy number one. During the time of the cold war, the movie takes an in depth, funny and, at times, outrageous look into how sports mirrors social and cultural movements. From the defection of Soviet hockey stars to the US, to how Red Army gave birth to completely new systems of play with the puck, this one is a roller coaster from start to finish. Having personally met a lot of Russian players from that and the following eras, like Vyacheslav Kozlov and Valeri Kamensky, I can honestly tell you this movie isn’t keeping a lot of things secret.
Until next time — stay frosty.
