One thing I love is videogames. For me that’s the eighth art in this world. Thanks to my eldest brother -Arcadio-, who used to own an old and “archaic” computer back in the nineties, I got to meet that amazing dream. I think the first videogame I saw was the original Prince of Persia for PC. I just have one diffuse memory of one of my brothers (not precisely Arcadio, by the way), playing that game on the archaic monochromatic 14 inches monitor, his fingers struggling and stretching over the keyboard that somehow seems prehistoric and made of bone.
Now that I see my two years old son watching me play videogames, I remember that old experience and think about its influence in my mind. The obscure atmosphere of the classic Prince of Persia, the black background, the skeletons, the silence, all that setting up the deepest surfaces of my brain.
I think playing videogames is like programming your mind. There are so many kinds of games, unlimited genres, styles, complexity levels, “seriousness” levels, and so there are a lot of ways to program your mind. The history of videogames is now boundless.
The obscure background of the ancient Prince of Persia that I used to watch mesmerized on the old monitor (the black wall of the castle with its eventual moldy and cracked bricks) seems to play an uncanny mechanism inside my head. What was behind this curtain of darkness? I wonder. Every room in the Palace hid a mystery to me, unknown spaces, virtual spaces to explore. That is, if you´re strong enough to face the awful enemies.
For a kid like me, totally unfamiliarized with that type of technology, this was an event. I had found an imaginary world from a computer, and my brother of about sixteen (the adventurer) was playing with it.
That’s a beautiful and enigmatic memory that I keep and today I wanted to share. So now when I see my kid get interest in videogames I try to show him in the best way, with enthusiasm, responsibility and restraint, like reading a story to him before bedtime.
