Is this the most important videogame memoir? A review of Gamelife by Michael W. Clune
Imagine a world without spoken language. No words. No thoughts expressed as a series of interpretable sounds. And instead, people communicated in the language of game logic.
A sunset wouldn’t be beautiful. Rather, it would be a numerical advantage over a lesser sun position. The pride you feel when watching your son take his first step, that’s not pride anymore. That’s just a couple of digits increased on a mobility stat.
This is the world that Michael W. Clune inhabits in his memoir, Gamelife. As he says early in the book: “When I was eleven, computer games taught me how to imagine something so it lasts, so it feels real. The secret is numbers. Imagination fumbles outside reality like a child at a locked door…[numbers are] the secret to making imaginary worlds real.” (pg 29)
Ironically, for all of Clune’s praise of the grounded, binary logic of numbers, it’s Clune’s beautiful manipulation of the English language that makes it possible to imagine such a numbers-driven world. And it’s this willingness and capability of molding the English language that really surprised me with Gamelife. Clune isn’t afraid to risk the writerly logic of stretched imagery if it means possibly connecting with a certain type of reader. I am definitely that certain type of reader. This book definitely connected with me.
Take for example when Clune describes the computerized voices of Castle Wolfenstein, the first computer game to feature voices. He describes it as: “Each word carved with an ax from a slab of static.” (pg 94). It’s hard to visualize that. But it’s easy to feel that.
He’s absolutely fearless here, and elsewhere. Earlier in the book, when Clune is first mapping his logic, using, fittingly, the map systems in old computer games as a proxy, he says:
“In a computer game, a person’s head has two sides. A front and a back..Heads are different in the real world…A two-dimensional head […] has two genuinely different sides. One side is visible, and the other side is invisible. A 3-D head is visible all the way around. A 3-D head ultimately has only one side.”
And then later:
“I’m not against 3-D. 3-D has its place…3-D is comforting. It’s what lets you sink into a couch. It’s what lets you get your hand all the way around a doorknob. 3-D is easy. 3-D comes up to you with a smile and an outstretched hand. 3-D is dry land. 2-D is the ocean” (pg 60).
Clune then makes this logic tangible when he introduces a new kid at his school named Evan. He describes Evan as having a “flat” face and later describes Evan’s self-defense mechanism at recess like this: “He’d kept his back to the wall the whole time, sliding across it like a giant poster” (pg 65).
These aren’t accidental descriptions. Clune is simultaneously challenging and alluring, slowly pulling you into his worldview by overlaying the logic of video games with his childhood experiences. He presents a foreign idea–games as a lens for life–but gets the reader comfortable with it by referencing childhood milestones like meeting a new friend.
“In 3-D, looking too carefully can be a problem. In 2-D you can never look carefully enough. On a flat map everything appears as it is. Every line and shape on a flat map is charged with significance; a dot conceals multitudes. When you study a flat map, your human vision reaches its true potential and meaning floods the visible” (pg 94).
A writer can only get away with this type of language in a book that abolishes all pretenses of education or trying to justify itself by the standards of other video game books. There are books about video games as an industry. There are books about the creation of video games. There are reference books. There are art books. There are editorials. But Gamelife is none of those. This isn’t a history lesson. It’s not an exploration of video games as a cultural medium. It’s not even a traditional memoir. It’s sort of a memoir’s memoir, justifying games as critical to shaping how an individual, Michael W. Clune, experiences the world. And by doing so, it invites the reader to think about how games may shape her own worldview.
Before I go, a note about making videos to review video game books. These videos get few views. I know that, yet I keep making them. I keep making them because I feel it’s important to evangelize for the kind of lengthy and deep thought on video games that the book format can uniquely provide.
And I’m especially motivated to do so after reading this book, Gamelife by Michael W. Clune. As of right now, I feel it’s possibly the most important video game memoir that I’ve ever read.
If you agree that deep thought about video games is important, please check out the rest of my video game book reviews and please, share this video with a like-minded friend.
