Here’s the thing: when you have a title like “Professor,” it lends you an air of credibility and some semblance of influence in your particular gaming niche. I’m well established within my niche. I’ve talked extensively about how video games play an important role in the evolution of storytelling, how narratives within games are shaping the modern literary landscape, and far beyond. I like to think of myself as an esteemed academic. I earned it, after all, spending the last near decade teaching at a private university nestled in the hills of the East Bay.
Each winter at the start of the term, I ask my students to introduce themselves, tell me where they’re from, and share one of their favorite games. I’ve gotten a number of interesting responses over the years, some great games, some terrible games, some I’ve never heard of that I quietly jot down in my notebook to check out when I have the time. So in 2018, I expected much of the same blend, but ended up hearing at least a third of my newest students mention a game called Fortnite.
“Fortnight?” I asked through squinted eyes, after the third student mentioned the game. “Like the length of time? Two weeks?”
The student looked at me like I grew a second head. “I don’t know what that means, Professor.”
I bit my lip and had flashbacks of the dude I met in my History class in college who thought kangaroos were extinct. I shook the memory from my mind and went and wrote the word on the board in big, block letters: F-O R-T-N-I-G-H-T.
They all started snickering until one of them spoke up and said no, it’s spelled “F-O-R-T-N-I-T-E.”
Not going to lie, I had to take a deep breath to keep from slamming my skull into the whiteboard. So I nodded intently and said, “Interesting, so what’s it about?”
Again, more smirks and snickers. They actually all looked at each other for several seconds before another student finally spoke up. “Um, it’s not really about anything. It’s a BR.”
At that point I just pretended I knew what that student was talking about and nodded, fully intending to google what the hell a “BR” was during the break. I did feel a little silly when I realized it just stood for “Battle Royale.” But then I suddenly had even more questions. How had I never heard of this game before now? How can so many people be interested in a free PvP game with no backstory? What sort of positive mental stimulation can you possibly get from something like this?
And that, my friends, is the first time I ever heard about this mess of a game.
From that point on, the game was everywhere. The electronics store, my Instagram feed, the conversations at work, commercials. I was still absolutely perplexed as to what all the fuss was about. It looked like a single cell shaded experience with the color saturation turned up to 200% and where all the characters were dancing like it was the 5th grade Sock Hop.
Games are a lot like movies, books, and music. There are good ones and bad ones. A film buff will sing the praise of films like Casablanca or The Godfather or Titanic but would never debase themselves ruminating on the mysteries of Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift. There is deep and widely agreed upon value and merit to a book like The Lord of the Rings, but if you’re reading 50 Shades of Grey then pretty much anyone can surmise very quickly what the reader is interested in (and it’s probably not the plot).
“This literally looks like it was made for 12 year-olds,” I remember telling a coworker one afternoon a few months later, as the game continued to spike in popularity among literally every age group known to man.
“It’s fun dude!” he replied. “You should try it sometime. We could play a few matches together.”
I scoffed. “Abso-LUTELY not.”
I had come to the firm conclusion that this shill of a game designed for children was a waste of time, energy, and was the literal antithesis of everything I had been working my entire academic career to try to combat against when it came to video game stereotypes. In fact, my hatred of Fortnite basically became part of my brand. I told my students (mostly jokingly) never to mention the game in my class. Even on my streams, friends would bring it up just for the sheer amusement of getting a rise out of me and hearing me bark back a snarky remark about the empty air such a game leaves in one’s brain.
Then, I made a huge mistake.
Back in June I celebrated my birthday on stream which included a fundraiser with a bunch of milestone monetary goals. The highest one, at $2000, stated that if we hit that goal, I would play Fortnite on stream. Well, a very important lesson to anyone if you make hating a game part of your brand, is don’t ever give your community fodder to work with. Because they will come for the jugular. And mine did, within an hour of the stream starting. I think more than joy that my community raised literally $2000 in an hour was the horror that I had underestimated them and was now doomed to download the dreaded plague game onto my precious PC.
When the day finally arrived, it almost felt like a period of mourning; like I was somehow losing my sense of credibility by playing the game. But I teamed up with a few friends and launched into the vast battleground, and held my breath. And I gotta say, over the course of the 3 hours I spent in-game, I came away learning quite a few things, and nearly all of them were positive.
The game is…fun. It is a genuinely enjoyable time if you are playing with a group of people you know and enjoy spending time with. My friends were excited to share the basic flow of the game with me and be my metaphorical training wheels as I got myself acclimated to the game and environment. We had a blast sprinting through the different biomes; snowy peaks, dense jungles, wide open plains, even a farm.
And to the shock of absolutely everyone, we won the very first match I ever played. I have to admit, it was exhilarating. Facing off against 100 other people and coming out on top, having never played the game before, was an incredible feeling. I felt a rush of endorphins that made me feel like a kid again. It actually reminded me of those early days playing the first Halo when I was just 13 years old, and running around the map blasting each other to bits, not taking ourselves or the game too seriously.
And I realized that that was the thing I had forgotten, the core reason we play games to begin with; to have fun. Appreciating a good story is important, and recognizing and pushing for further recognition of these stories is equally important, but in the relentless work I have done in these areas, I’d forgotten that sometimes, it’s ok to just enjoy a game for the game. Let the inner child come out and spread those endorphins like they’re candy. Laugh like an idiot and revel in your Victory Royales, for no other reason than that it was fun to do it.
At first, there was some gloating from friends and former students that I had been “converted” or “brainwashed” or some similar verbiage. But ultimately, it comes down to one thing: I was wrong. And a good academic (and really just a reasonable human in general) should always be able to admit when they were wrong. And that’s a good thing. I’ve been humbled by this experience, and also refreshed, because now I’m reminded of the core reason I ever played video games to begin with, which was to smile and laugh and have a good time.
Will I become a professional Fortnite player? Probably not. But you’ll probably catch me in a few lobbies here and there, looking for the next Victory Royale, and to hopefully gloat over a few 12 year olds that need some humbling. I gotta have something to gloat over at this point.
