Life is Meant to be Played

Imagine for a moment that you enter a game. I like to use World of Warcraft for this example. It has many continents and areas to be explored. There are various atmospheres, worlds, and events going on simultaneously all over the world. There are millions of different players all entering this game simultaneously and there is so much one can do. You can focus on completing achievements, quests, dungeons, collections, toys, crafting, or completing the overall objective of defeating the latest enemy. This game has it all.

When we play such a game, we are acutely aware that we are sitting at a desk. It is a game. Our character is there and we are here. One can become immersed in the game where they don't consider this distinction quite as much, however. And if we were to enter the game in virtual reality, it could become all the more immersive. But let us consider now, what would happen if we literally forgot it was a game.

If we entered our character's view and perceived the world as the real world without knowledge of the world beyond, we would be tempted to reinterpret many of the facets of the game in brand new ways. The other factions are no longer just players who chose a different starting point. They are literally the enemy. Our character's life becomes of utmost importance as we consider how to pass our time as we perpetually play the game. 

As we consider how we might behave in this game, it's easy to think we would not be overcome with grief if we fail a quest or overcome with envy as we see someone else at a much higher level with better gear or more money. We might think we'd not be burdened by such concerns because it is silly. It's a game. But in what way is this any different than the life we experience now? What is so unique about this world and this life that it is permissible to be envious, angry, or afraid that would not be present in World of Warcraft if we had forgotten it was a game?

What benefit is there in treating it as anything but a game?

If we truly consider and dive deeper into the comparison, we should find there is no reason that feelings of hatred, jealousy, fear, or condemnation should exist in this world any more than in World of Warcraft. The greatest reason being that of utility: what good do those do you? Why would you want such feelings? The fact is simple: forgetting it's a game would turn it into what we experience as real life. And that forgetting is what creates a notion that we are entitled to feelings that do not benefit us. They trap us from experiencing the game fully.

If indeed we forgot that World of Warcraft was a game, we would be overcome with fear in the same way we are on Earth. We would be envious of the heroes who succeed while we focus on crafting, collecting, or simple daily quests. We would acquire gold while playing it safe and indulging in the many fears and judgements that make our time in the game miserable, boring, or unbearable. In our fear to take on quests, we might even take our own lives rather than attempting to live them. If a particular character in the game doesn't wish to marry us or treat us how we want, we'd be angry or hurt and cry, rage, or spread rumors. All because we forgot it was a game. 

But what about this world we live in? Why is it any different? What benefit is there in treating it as anything but a game? You think, "But this is the real world, it is different." Is it different? The biggest difference you could conceive of is that we can die 'for real' in this world. What difference does that make, however? What consequence is there in dying for those who are dead? Either we wake up from the game and suddenly remember it was a game or we don't wake up, we experience nothing, and it might as well have been a game. We will regret nothing.

Treating this world as anything more than an experience to be lived without allowing ourselves to be controlled by fear is the only valid model. No one is going to die and look back thinking they are so glad they worked a 9-5 job and acquired money and sat and watched TV or doom scrolled every day of their life. This is just as true if we die and there is nothing as if we die and look back to realize it was a game. Imagine playing World of Warcraft and realizing you spent 90 years at the starting location picking flowers the entire time because you were too afraid to play. What is the point? If you hadn't forgotten it was a game, you'd have gone insane with boredom doing that. And yet, that is what most of us do on a daily basis. We forget, we play it bored and safe, while giving in to negative feelings that benefit nothing and make our experience all the more miserable. 

Rise above the fear, and actually live—not for money and safety, but for joy, creativity, and experience itself.

Instead, this life could be experienced like Minecraft. We could go on adventures, exploring, and creating for the sole purpose of doing so. And if we die, who cares? We either don't remember playing or we remember all too well and can look back with pride at our creations, our choices, and our attempt to play the game. We don't bury ourselves with sand and wait forever in fear of the zombies in Minecraft. That's no way to play the game. We don't need to spend all our time in the villages trading with the villagers for emeralds only to go to our little cabin, sleep, and do it all over again as if emeralds were the point. The point is creation. The point is enjoyment. And yet, fear continues to drive us. Going out into the woods or the caves is dangerous. We might die. We might run out of food. So let's just stay in our cabin with the villagers. Why chance it? Rather, why not chance it? What else is the point? 

We have two options when we die. We forget everything and our experience was nothing but an experience. Nothing mattered beyond the short blip we were here. In such a case, the only valid question was whether or not we made it fun for ourselves. The second option is that we find we continue on and this was a game, a simulation, a test, or who knows what. In that case, we realize that in everything we experienced, it was simply a short period of our possibly eternal lives in which case only one thing mattered while we were here: how did we choose to experience it? Did we have fun? Did we learn? Did we create? Or did we bog ourselves down in misery, hate, mundanity, and fear? Are we going to look back and think we were so glad we continued to hate that country, people group, religion, or faction? It was so totally worth it? In what reality can we expect that to have any value?

The thing is, we're not looking far enough ahead. We're not realizing just how temporary this all is. We're not realizing the worthlessness of negative tonality toward others, and we're forgetting the entire point: experience. Nothing else will matter in the end. Nothing. If you are not enjoying your experience, then figure out why, take a chance, do something fun, creative, exciting, or risky. What else is the point? And do so with the emotions that make life enjoyable: peace, love, wonder, and awe. What a miracle existence even is. How fascinating! Rise above the fear, and actually live—not for money and safety, but for joy, creativity, and experience itself. Remember, in the end it truly is no different than a game.