Let's Justify Ourselves: A Case for the Let's Play

As I mentioned in my first post to this blog, I enjoy Let's Plays.  Generally, I enjoy watching them as well as making them.  And I do so with a keen awareness that what I'm doing is a horrifying waste of time.

Even though I've played video games for over twenty years (or maybe BECAUSE I have), I'll always be skeptical about the supposed benefits they provide to the player.  Some people will practically bang the table with their shoe, Nikita Khrushchev style, if there's so much as an eyebrow raised about the worthiness of gaming: "They heighten critical reasoning and hone our fine motor skills!  I've made lasting friendships through gaming!  They keep me from killing again!"

These considerations were an afterthought to designers up until the very recent past.  Not that I'm an expert, but I feel confident enough in my own experiences to say that there are usually better activities if one wants to improve oneself in almost any area aside from being a better gamer.  From that standpoint, I can't help but conclude that games are largely a waste of time, for whatever that's worth.  Watching other people play them as they commentate the action is a chocolatey layer of wastefulness atop the fluffy goodness that is gaming itself.  I have absolutely no problem with any of this.  Gaming is about that amorphous blob we call fun.  I try to have fun playing the games that I play, and I get a kick out of seeing other people enjoy games that I also enjoy.

If you've somehow come across this blog and you're not into games, and this whole rationale befuddles and angers you, take heart!  There are plenty of ridiculous analogies to be found in your world too.  Let's take a look at another huge waste of time: cooking food.  Food guru Michael Pollan wrote an excellent article for New York Times Magazine that shows just how much Americans seem to think that cooking is a huge timesink.  We've managed to cut our time in the kitchen in half since the middle of the last century, down to less than a half hour.  But despite our apparent disinterest in the task itself, we're watching more and more television about cooking.  Pollan asks, "how is it that we are so eager to watch other people browning beef cubes on screen but so much less eager to brown them ourselves?"

Damned if I know, but I'll hazard a guess.  Although this situation differs from what's going on with gaming and Let's Plays (both appear to be growing commitments for us), I think it offers a vital means of understanding why anyone would even watch a Let's Play.  More than just cooking shows, think of all the craft shows, fishing shows, travel shows, and perhaps most importantly of all, think of how many times you've watched the gentle brushstrokes of Bob Ross.  For some ridiculous reason, we love to watch.  We can't help observe people doing things that we appreciate or that intrigue us.  We'll observe them even at the expense of actually doing them.

It turns out that the brain absolutely craves learning.  When we learn something, whether it's how to play a concerto or the combo for a sweet new move in Street Fighter, neurotransmitters (including dopamine) fire off inside of our heads.  We actually get a bit of a high off of learning.  We're so hopelessly addicted that the areas involved with learning are still active while we sleep, like a tweaker picking scabs.  So craven is our brain for the acquisition of knowledge that we don't care if it comes our way experientially or observationally.  Sloppy seconds are more than enough for us to get a boost.

It feels silly to talk about the act of watching another person talk about a video game they're playing.  But at its core, a Let's Play ends up being about sharing experience.  That's a deeply human activity, one that is exceedingly rare among animals.  It's our hallmark trait.  We communicate elaborate concepts to one another as a means of survival.  It's no wonder that our bodies have evolved to give us rewards for teaching and learning, no matter how silly the concept may be.

And yes, I firmly believe Let's Plays are silly.  But so is most TV.  What makes a Let's Play any less legitimate than watching someone land a trophy fish that they're just going to throw back?  And I'm speaking as a fisherman as well as a Let's Player here.  There's no material use in catching a fish only to throw it back; it's actually kind of an asshole move in my book.  How many millions of people plant their ass on their couch and watch fish abuse, or watch Guy Fieri try to dupe us into thinking that every single thing he eats is orgasmically delicious?  How many times have you watched The Woodwright's Shop or another craft show and thought, "man, I'd love to be able to make a snuff box like that, but... effort... ugh."

All of the values assigned to these activities are culturally ascribed.  That's not to say they're meaningless, but it certainly means they're not set in stone.  The ways in which we waste our time have changed over the centuries thanks to advances in technology and we've changed our opinions to suit them.  Let's Plays are just another progression in our long quest to fritter away our days.  You don't have to enjoy them personally, but I do think that their existence shouldn't be seen as an aberration.

A College Football Diversion

Students at Penn State rioted over the firing of Joe Paterno.  This isn't exactly news anymore, but I was completely astounded by their reaction when I was watching ESPN in the middle of the night.  According to the one coherent rioter that ESPN found, the rioters were pissed because:

1. Joe Paterno was fired over the phone.

2. Joe Paterno told everyone he needed to about the rape.  It's unfair that he's being punished while some other people involved are not.

3. Joe Paterno has a $10 million dollar library named after him.

Let's do away with the probability that most of the rioters were just drunk and stupid college kids who just wanted to trash a news van or two, and assess these points as they stand on their own.  The first complaint is a breech of etiquette at worst, and one which is insubstantial compared to the rest of the evils of this entire situation.  Mike Golic was sputtering a little bit on Mike & Mike about the phone call-firing, trying to make it into a discussion point and realizing that he was failing.  Nobody (including Golic) is really arguing about the merits of the firing itself.  The phone call point is pettifogging, and I think the people who are citing this as a reasonable complaint know this.

The other two issues strike me as reasons to be mad at Joe Paterno.  Only in the narrowest sense did he abide by Pennsylvania's mandatory reporting laws concerning child abuse.  I can't imagine being approached by a subordinate who tells me that another subordinate was anally raping a child at our workplace, and not going to the police immediately.  What makes it even more heinous is that Sandusky continued to abuse children thereafter.  Had someone brought the issue to the attention of law enforcement personnel, it's possible that there could have been fewer victims.  Joe Paterno would probably still have his job too, and would have been commended by the public for handling a horrible situation correctly by getting an absolute scumbag arrested.

And as illegitimate as the library thing sounds, I understand completely what the guy was trying to convey.  Joe Paterno is a living legend, and I absolutely mean that.  The winningest I-A college football coach of all time.  The coach with more bowl appearances and victories than anyone, ever. The man who made Penn State a hallmark team in college football.  A career with the school that lasted for almost all of his adult life.  He's a part of Penn State's essence. These immense achievements stand at odds with a colossal lapse in judgement, and people don't know how to extract Joe Paterno from Penn State.

I understand completely that people are in confused disbelief that the premier coach in college football could end up going out this way.  The most emotional of them don't know who to blame.  It comes down to this: first, you blame Sandusky.  Then you blame the people who created a culture of silence that kept him on the loose.  You don't blame the victims.  You don't blame the people who fired him.  You don't blame the players.  Paterno absolutely deserves blame if these allegations prove true, and he deserves to be fired at the very least.  And depending on what he said to the grand jury and to law enforcement, he might deserve a trial.

In the end, Paterno is one man.  An exceptionally good coach, but still a man.  There are no good men in history; there are men who we can say made good decisions, with the benefit of hindsight guiding us.  Penn State has many difficult decisions ahead.  Hopefully, they face them with more resolve and maturity than they did the night that Joe's career ended.