Dear Videogames,

Look, I love you. I truly do. But we really need to talk. For years, I’ve looked past the silly little mind tricks you’ve played, the unpredictable behavior, the drinking, the public masturbation. I’ve tried so hard to ignore all of these things and see you for the creative form I fell in love with. The power of interactivity, the potential for genuine change through a voluntary shift in perspective, the beauty of striding purposefully across the untouched sands of faraway worlds, alien suns on our faces, nitrogen winds whipping at our traveler’s cloaks. But lately, I feel like I’m living with two different media, and I never know which one I’m going to see when you come through that door.

Do you remember Hyrule, Videogames? Do you remember riding across that vast plain, hooves beating the polygonal earth, the sky reflected in the royal shield on my back? Do you remember exploring the ruins of Tallon IV, uncovering secrets buried for centuries beneath a crust of time and soil? Do you remember Hyllis, Adelpha, Hiigara, Silent Hill, Oddworld, Riven, Installation 04? It wasn’t even that long ago that we lost ourselves in those places, exploring the limits of my imagination even as we plumbed the depths of your own. You were what I had always wanted. You were the form to which I would dedicate myself, the precious substance that would give shape and form to my dreams, that the world might feel even a small part of the joy and sorrow that coexist at the far corners of my mind.

Do you remember the plans we made? O, that bright future of inspiration and thought that we had within our grasp! We were going to build realities, you and I. Entire universes spun from our fingers, each crafted in the image of an ideal, populated with characters both strong and weak, virtuous and deceitful, distant and vulnerable. We would build them, and others would come. They would play their roles, live foreign lives, love each other and themselves, and they would return to their own dreams to find them clearer and more distinct, and they would be transformed.

Instead, you’re giving them points for pegging dudebros in the cojones.

Look, Videogames, I know it’s important for you to cut loose every once in a while. I completely understand! Remember that time on Silent Cartographer, when we stacked up all those grenades under a Warthog and sent it careening to the top of the island? That was great! I’m totally cool with you doing that sometimes. I just feel like it’s becoming a problem. When you come home late at night, reeking of gasoline, alien blood and the bile of the undead, wearing an anatomically implausible pair of wobbling mammaries while the sound of gunfire mingles with the distant giggling of underage Japanese girls, I begin to wonder if you’ll ever be the same again.

Do you think that you could just try talking to someone about this? For me? You know, Cinema went through the same thing back in the day. Maybe you can get some advice. I just really think that there’s still a chance for us, you know? I truly believe that we can get past this, if only for the sake of our projects. Just think about them for a minute. Ardhana? Freedom? The Sculptor’s Hand? Think about what’s best for them. We can get through this together. Will you do this for me, Videogames?

For God’s sake, put down that unambiguously phallic assault rifle and look at me when I’m talking to you. Did you even hear a word I said?

Ugh. VIDEOGAMES.