entremet
Member
I slowly began buying the games I cared about again, and putting them back on the shelves. It felt good, in a way, but it was more of an obligation than a way to heal. It felt like lifting barbells with a phantom limb. I was trying to get something back, but it wasn't the physical copies of the games, it was a past in which I imagined I was happier.
Part of me believed that if I recreated the collection carefully enough, one evening I would wake up and she would be there, playing games in front of the TV in one of my shirts. If I owned enough of those same games, I could create a portal back to the past and never have to move forward.
I never really understood how damaging this attitude could be until I heard it explained in a movie. ”All the time you spend trying to get back what's been took from you, there's more going out the door," a very wise character from No Country for Old Men said. ”After a while you just try and get a tourniquet on it."
I stopped buying old video games by the time I was 30. It was my way of tightening a belt around the stump. The games were ultimately boxed up once again when I got married and bought a house.
Good piece by Ben Kuchera. I've had conflicting thought about collecting of late. The thrill of the hunt is fun and so is original hardware, but so many new games to play.
I really liked how his collection brought back individual memories.
Have you offloaded a huge collection either voluntary or not?
https://www.polygon.com/2017/7/12/15958318/the-5000-decision-to-get-rid-of-my-past