PERSONAL

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Ah, Nostalgia

7 years ago1,109 words

Rediscovering things we liked when younger can be a pleasant thing, and it's nice to check back on them and see they're still alive with new content. I've been told by many people that my MARDEK games were a pleasant part of their childhoods, so it's a shame I never finished them.



On a whim, I rediscovered ∞ Homestar Runner ∞ the other day. Maybe you're familiar with it? It was big online about a decade and a half ago (it's been that long?! Scary). I don't even remember how I discovered it; I seem to remember keeping up with it from its earliest days, and being surprised when I encountered other people online who'd actually heard of it. I liked it enough to check the site regularly, and had a more thorough understanding of its history and 'culture' than I probably do of the real world. I never interacted with other fans at all, or bought merchandise or anything like that, but it did have a special place in my heart, I suppose.

Or at least that's how it feels looking back. I suppose nostalgia always feels that way... Recognition itself is a pleasurable thing, because unfamiliarity is scary; with something we know well, we know where we stand, what to expect, and can feel soothed, at ease. It's why watching films or TV shows you've already seen a bunch of times is more relaxing than watching something new; your mind is able to let its guard down, to stop judging. It's also true that we're more open to and accepting of new things when we're younger, but become jaded as time goes on; it's why some (annoying) people insist the first generation of Pokemon are the best even though their designs are objectively inferior to many of the newer ones, because those old designs got places in the person's brain when that brain was still in the process of writing its rules about the workings of the world. Once those rules are solidified, anything that conflicts with them is regarded warily. And such.

Homestar Runner stopped updating regularly several years ago, but I did notice on ∞ the YouTube channel ∞ that there were a handful of new cartoons that had been made since I stopped keeping up with it (including one about ∞ Flash being dead ∞; a reason I had to change what I was doing with games development). I watched them, and laughed and smiled more than I have at anything in ages; so much that my face hurt. It wasn't because they were especially clever or funny or anything. It's because they were familiar, because they were portals to a different time in my life, a more innocent time, one where I wasn't thinking about suicide every day. For an hour or two, I forgot how miserable my life was and felt at ease. Happy, even.

The effect didn't last, sadly. I've watched more of the cartoons - the older ones, which I've seen before, some several times - and they're not really eliciting smiles or anything. Maybe a bit of a snicker here and there, but nothing more than that. I suppose that's the other side of familiarity: habituation, becoming numb to the effects, like tolerance for a drug or taking a reliably-present loved one for granted rather than savouring their company and compassionate contributions to your life.



I wanted to mention this because I still get comments and emails from people telling me how my MARDEK games were "their childhood", or how they at least brought a ray of joy into their earlier lives, and how it's sad that I never continued with the series. That even now, they get pleasure returning to the old games, and hold out hope that one day I might make sequels. I suppose I can understand how that is, even if my own memories of the creative process are more tainted by stress. Making anything is always going to be such a different experience to playing or watching it. Lots of problems to work through, frustratingly.

The Brothers Chaps, who made Homestar Runner, moved on with their lives, had wives, children, 'proper' jobs in things like animation... but they were able to return to their old created world occasionally long after its place in the sun because their basic life needs are essentially met, and they can bounce ideas of one another, motivate one another, things like that. But me... I never finished MARDEK because of unmet needs. I made those games as a teenager, just assuming my life would somehow work itself out in the future. Now that I'm older and it's very much not worked itself out, I can't imagine pouring countless hours into something with pretty much no chance of, say, finding me a partner, earning me enough money to be secure, or generally improving my connection to the real world and my mental health.

I've been wondering though whether to at least write a post on my neglected Alora Fane site about what I intended to do with the series... if I can even remember. I never really knew, though; I had some vague notes, but the MARDEK games were pretty much written as I went along because I had little idea of what I was doing at the time. There was no discipline or structure to my creative process back then (which is probably why I actually got things done; sad how trying to do things 'properly' or 'well' can lead to doing nothing at all if nothing meets the new standards). Still, I could try to dig up some notes and write about them, if I can find the time.

It's a shame that I've spent years of my life since then refining creative skills that I've never used in something that got as much attention as those original, crude MARDEK games. Perhaps I should also write somewhere - here, maybe - about what I've been up to recently, creatively. Mostly it's just embarrassing though. Attempts to use creativity to meet those frustratingly unmet needs.

Anyway, we'll see. For now, I'm still just trying to get through these long summer days alone. I have a lot to do - chores, like getting a haircut or sorting out stuff for my trip to Korea - but I'm making slow progress on even the basics due to poor mental health. What a life.