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Nov. 7th, 2005 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stormdogExercise takes too long. Every time I stand in front of my television, my feet flailing away at the arrow-emblazoned vinyl mat beneath me while j-pop and techno ring in my ears, I have the same thought. I remember gathering up a trio of books. I remember setting two of them side by side and propping the third one carefully between them, resting it just far enough onto the back end of the keyboard of my computer. My character, clad in leather armor and the shining silver ankh that my character description mentioned (and that I would therefore lay odds that not a single person in the entire game world ever noticed) stood at attention, mace in hand, in front of the practice dummy on the roof of the training hall just outside the village of Britain.
I had, of course, set up one of the function keys to act as a macro; one simple key stroke and I would slam my mace into that dummy with all the force my pixelated body could muster. Slyly, ingeniously, I tipped the edge of the book onto that F key and watched, giggling with glee, as my character indefatigably pounded his mace into that little brown construction of simulated straw and computer-rendered cotton stuffing. I had cheated the system! I was gaining strength and weapon skills without having to tirelessly tap the keyboard like a rat hitting the trigger of it's treat dispenser. I was smarter than that. And the reward for my ingenuity was not long in coming. Over the course of three or four hours, I would gain a good five or six points of strength. Sometimes, if I was looking at the right moment, I'd actually see the notification that my stats were improving and feel that little thrill of instant gratification.
Now, years later, despite how much I honestly love playing Dance Dance Revolution, despite the thrill I get out of watching myself get better and better at something that I, as someone who has spent no small amount of time practicing various hobbies that rely on manual dexterity, feel is legitimately worthy of recognition, I still have the same niggling little thought every time I do it. I've spent an hour at this; why can't I see the difference? I know I'm not going to gain dexterity or strength in any meaningfully quantifiable way, but shouldn't my stomach stick out at least a little less? And then, I can't help but proceed to the next logical thought in that progression. Maybe if I find a couple of really big books to set up next to the dance pad...
I had, of course, set up one of the function keys to act as a macro; one simple key stroke and I would slam my mace into that dummy with all the force my pixelated body could muster. Slyly, ingeniously, I tipped the edge of the book onto that F key and watched, giggling with glee, as my character indefatigably pounded his mace into that little brown construction of simulated straw and computer-rendered cotton stuffing. I had cheated the system! I was gaining strength and weapon skills without having to tirelessly tap the keyboard like a rat hitting the trigger of it's treat dispenser. I was smarter than that. And the reward for my ingenuity was not long in coming. Over the course of three or four hours, I would gain a good five or six points of strength. Sometimes, if I was looking at the right moment, I'd actually see the notification that my stats were improving and feel that little thrill of instant gratification.
Now, years later, despite how much I honestly love playing Dance Dance Revolution, despite the thrill I get out of watching myself get better and better at something that I, as someone who has spent no small amount of time practicing various hobbies that rely on manual dexterity, feel is legitimately worthy of recognition, I still have the same niggling little thought every time I do it. I've spent an hour at this; why can't I see the difference? I know I'm not going to gain dexterity or strength in any meaningfully quantifiable way, but shouldn't my stomach stick out at least a little less? And then, I can't help but proceed to the next logical thought in that progression. Maybe if I find a couple of really big books to set up next to the dance pad...
