I wondered, as I twirled the wheel on my controller, because that’s how you reel in a fish, if that’s the intrinsic appeal of RDR2. I wondered if the thing that makes the game more than a series of challenges and rewards is that it provides the player access to some imagined rendition of their father.
When the sun spit its light over the mountains I had only climbed down from a few days earlier, I kicked to life a fire I did not make and ignored the slow music of the world to which each of us dance before departing.
After playing hours and hours and hours of a so-called “open world” game that simulated a wilderness realm in which I was an outlaw and member of a gang of men and women and children who lived together in a camp on a wooded plateau not far from a town called “Valentine”
We think video games are literature, and so why shouldn't there be literature about video games? That's the question we're hoping to answer here. Read more.
