EVERYTHING AT EVERY ANGLE ALL AT ONCE

I was playing Lorn's Lure last month and at some point, I saw something worth taking a picture of. So I did.

Screenshot of Lorn's Lure, showing a sliver of light shining into a dark cave.

Then I started taking more screenshots. Maybe because they looked cool, maybe because I wanted to show them to people. Maybe to prove that I played the game, made all those crazy jumps. Maybe so I could write a blog post and get lots of attention and praise and clout. Sometimes I have trouble conceiving of doing things for my own enjoyment, rather than as fodder for showing off online.

But then I started thinking about what those screenshots were worth. Anyone who plays that game will see what I saw. Video games are a visual medium. When you play a game, you're most likely going to encounter a certain scene from a certain angle. That's what the developer wants. They want you to show you something cool, or show you where to go, or tell a story.

Screenshot of Lorn's Lure, showing a small door in a very tall, metal wall. A lamppost is shining directly on the door.

When you take a picture of the Taj Mahal, or the Eiffel Tower, you're seeing it the way it was intended to be experienced, from an angle that the designer knew you would see it. It was built to be seen. Taking a picture of the thing yourself is pointless; you can just google it and find infinite pictures from infinite angles. So you ask a stranger to get a picture of you standing next to it, to prove you were there. Vacation photos are about proof.

I don't usually remember to take pictures on vacation. I don't have a lot of pictures of me, because I'm either alone, or I forget to ask, or I don't want to ask because I feel kind of weird about myself, my body, photos of me, and asking anyone for anything for any reason. When I do remember to ask for photos, it's almost always to do the post-ironic pose of pretending to hold up the Tower of Pisa, except in front of completely upright structures, or sometimes just nothing.

Two photos of me holding up my hands like people do when they take a picture in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. In the first one, I look like I'm holding up a perfectly straight upright column in the background. In the second, I'm standing in front of some trees, a hill, and a river. My hands don't line up with anything in the background.
These were taken almost 10 years apart. Same jacket, same bit.

Sometimes I force myself to take pictures to help me remember. I don't have a great memory, especially when I'm, say, depressed and isolated and working remotely and avoiding social contact. I want to remember the good times. Mostly I get shots of people's backs while I trail along at the back of the group. To prove that I was out somewhere, with people, but what it shows that I'm always hanging back, always on the peripheral. Just watching, just tagging along.

I still haven't seen Breaking Bad. I just didn't get into it, and then suddenly it was everywhere, and everyone had seen it, and then the hype died, and then there was no reason to see it because everyone stopped talking about it. Maybe I will watch it one day. But a part of me just thinks – why bother? Everyone else saw it, and I know all the memes just by being online. Does it really matter if I see it? Do I want to? Will it complete me as a person and validate my whole existence? Will it be kind of fun and interesting?

I've been lucky to travel, but there's still so much of the world to see. But do I really want to see what everyone else has seen: the grand monument, the tourist trap, the inside of the resort? I saw the Mona Lisa, but it didn't feel like anything. I have a much fonder memory of going to the same tapas place every day in Barcelona to eat pretty much exclusively slices of ham and cheese. My friend and I referred to it as "our" tapas place. It was basically identical to three others on the same block. But it was ours.

Screenshot of Lorn's Lure, showing the side of a large silo, with a big tube hanging off the side of it.

When I take screenshots in games, sometimes it's just for me to remember. Sometimes I want to share them. I want other people to see something cool, or funny, or weird. Even if it's something really obvious, something that everyone has already screenshotted. The act of me taking a screenshot, of me sharing it, of who I'm sharing it with, is unique. It's not to prove anything. It's for us. It's for me.

I'm never going to play every game, or visit every country. Some of my trips won't matter to me and some I'll remember forever. But a part of me is always yearning to see it all. Every single thing in the entire world deserves to be seen from every angle, to be photographed an infinite number of times. Some of it won't. It makes me kind of sad.

Screenshot of Lorn's Lure, showing a huge tower, reaching up into nothingness. There are very few things that look like they can be held onto.

Only one person I know has played Lorn's Lure. It's a really fun, atmospheric game, although diabolically difficult at times. I still haven't beaten the final level because I got too mad and stopped trying. But I want people to play it and see how beautiful and satisfying it can be to forge a path through the emptiness. If it doesn't sound like your cup of tea, though, at least you can see what it's like, and maybe recommend it to a friend. There are an infinite number of places to go, and if someone gets to see something cool, just once, maybe that's enough.


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