I played some Home over the holidays. It was great.
First, I tried to make a guy who looked just like me. Only, well, there were no goatee options, and I have a goatee. Also, unfortunately, there were no eye options that didn’t make me look like a serial killer. That was okay, though, because when I was done making my character, I was placed in an empty room that looked like it belonged to Patrick Bateman, only it said it was my room. Weird.
I walked outside of my room, and waited two minutes to download the next room. I made a sandwich while I waited. When it was done loading, I walked around a plaza that was mostly inhabited by see-through ghost people. Putting two and two together, I assume that these were the virtual victims of my serial killer avatar. I did a dance in front of these ghosts to show my lack of virtual remorse. Oh how I miss the cultural significance of the running man! Hammer, don’t hurt them.
Later, I went to a movie theater, only it was some kind of futuristic movie theater where no one sat down, and instead of a movie playing on the screen, it was just a progress bar showing that the movie was “loading.” Very cinema verite. I left before the climax and went to a bowling alley. All of the lanes were full and I couldn’t bowl. I went to the arcade machines in the bowling alley and played some kind of puzzle game with trains. It too was self-aware, an examination of society and culture, making its users question what life is really about when they spend four-hundred-dollars on the most powerful game console in the world, only to play a tetris clone clearly made by a 9th grade computer science student with a Thomas and Friends fetish. After questioning my very existence, I went to the virtual mall and bought a virtual hat for my virtual serial killer, using real world, non-virtual money.
Which again, is great, because in this economy, what I really need to be doing is spending money on things that AREN’T EVEN FUCKING REAL.
I then turned off the PS3 and cried. Merry Christmas to you too, Sony.