Uninvited Guest

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“Destiny” is my favorite video game. To be more specific, The Taken king DLC, but the first installment of “Destiny” is my favorite video game. Is it the best FPS I’ve played? No. Did it bring me to tears like “The Last of Us” or “God of war: Ragnarok” ? No. Is it even the best video game I’ve ever played? No. I probably wouldn’t rank it in my top five. But why is it my favorite game? We will get to that, but that question of our favorite anything is a hard one. I think all of us are always being asked to pick our favorite things. As kids, our favorite color, Pokémon or ice cream flavor. As we get older, our favorite shows, albums, and everything in between. And of course asking our parents who their favorite child is. Despite how objective we can be about our own taste, our own bias gets in the way, influencing us into liking the things we like. It also works both ways with things we hate.

 I ironically have always hated the smell of grass. Hate is a strong word, but I don’t mean to pull any punches in my current use of it. Even when I was pro or in college playing football, that smell always brought me to second grade having my facemask planted in the dirt, blades of grass scratching my face. The sweat beading up and dripping down my face. The heat intensified every aspect of it. Just waiting for a whistle. The piercing screech would bring me to my feet to run headfirst into another bobbleheaded kid for us to see who was gonna run through who. It rarely was me that was still upright after contact. It never left me. As I got older, I would crack a smelling salt and put it behind my ear underneath my helmet. The burning ammonia smell was enough to cover up the fresh cut grass, even if it made my eyes water in the process.

My feelings for grass and “Destiny” both come from the same place. Our own memory and experiences affect our taste and attach to these “things”. On the positive side, this relationship of something mentally or physically that cues specific memories with positive emotions would be described as nostalgia. The term was originally coined by a Swiss physician Johannes Hofer, using the Greek word for return (nostos) and pain (algos), used to describe a neurological disease affecting the physical and mental states of Swiss mercenaries who were sent off on missions on foreign lands, with symptoms of persistent thinking of home, anxiety, insomnia, and irregular heartbeat. So the term originally had more of a negative connotation in its original conception, but for the purpose of this essay, we will use it as a blanket term for both positive and negative emotions caused from looking back. And this looking back, or nostalgia, has a strong influence on our interest. On that note, let’s talk about my favorite and not so favorite things and how they came to be.

I remember reading in Kobe Bryant’s book, “Mamba Mentality: How I Play”, that he rarely listened to music before games. He preferred silence. On the occasion that he felt like he needed to be in a particular mindset for his opponent, he would then listen to music that would bring him back to or evoke a certain feeling from when he was first listening to that music. Most of us would agree that we all have this same sort of response to music. It’s the same thing when you hear your parents cutting up as the first snare hits of Teddy Pendergrass’s “Turn off the Lights”. They swing together to the beat, glasses still in their hand, while they let you know that “You don’t know nothin bout this.” We have those songs that take us places, and nostalgia’s grip on us is strong in those moments. Toro y Moi’s “New House” is a song that perfectly encapsulates both sides of nostalgia for me, and still hasn’t let go.

I can’t remember the first time I listened to it. I know my friend sent me the song when Chaz Bear released his album “Outer Peace” in January of 2019. If anything, my only opinion on the song and album was that they were good, but like most things in my life, it grew on me.

 In April of 2019, I graduated college and was signed to an NFL team on the same day. I don’t remember having many feelings that day because everything moved so fast that I didn’t have time to think. I was now thrusted into this new situation. Coming off a broken foot and into an NFL locker room and a D-line room that was filled with insane talent and multiple first rounders, was abrasive to say the least. To make a long story short, I didn’t end up making the team or being signed to the practice squad. On the same day I was released, I had a work out with another team in two days. No time for a pity party, it’s back to work. The workout went well, but the team ultimately was looking for someone with a bit more experience and this became the norm of my life for the entire 2019 season. I had 7 workouts with different teams throughout that entire season and never ended up getting picked up. My days consisted of training and waiting for a call and when it came it was instantly going to the airport. On my way back home from another no, I remember the blue lights illuminating the aisle of the cabin beaming up at me through the dark. The man I was sitting next to commented on my lack of legroom and laughed about his original joke that I definitely have never heard before. I thought about how I ended up here and the trancing piano of “New House” came through my headphones. “I want a brand new house. Something I can not buy. Something I can’t afford.” As the song rolled along I felt like I could finally hear it for the first time. This idea that materialism could solve my problems. That once I get signed things would change. My family and friends would be proud of me and my relationships would be fixed. Everything would be water under the crackling embers of what used to be a bridge. My selfishness and ego would be looked over and rewarded for only putting myself first. Then I would be happy. I could buy that brand new house. When I listened to the song then, it was a beacon of hope that I could keep pushing towards. When I hear it now it’s conflicting. I know the new house won’t change anything but I’m also grateful for those times because it allowed me to grow and deal with those stressors and situations in a healthy way. It’s a reminder that I’ll figure it out even when things don’t seem like it. True nostalgia in every sense of the word. 

 I have read  “The Stranger” by Albert Camus 5 times, so from that standpoint it probably is my favorite book, but I never say it is. Like many others, the first time I read it was in high school. Baby’s first existentialism book. I loved it. From the first line of the book. “Maman (mom) died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know.” Camus’ writing style is sharp and quick, jabbing you with punchy, fast hitting dialogue or descriptions that stick with a Hemingway type of feel. Without giving too much of the book away, because it deserves a read, that first line really sets the tone of the book and what kind of character Meursault is. He is a detached and aloof man that highlights many of the views and beliefs of absurdism and existentialism. At the ripe age of 17 when I first turned those pages I was captivated. It was exactly what this black kid growing up in suburbia was feeling but had no way to express or articulate it. The book had a profound impact on me but it wasn’t until my second go around that this slowly started to change. The second time I read “The Stranger” I was 20 and it was my first semester at UAB. I had just transferred from junior college and the season had already started. I was not seeing any playing time and was still adjusting to this new environment. Most of my days after class and practice were spent sitting in the library, neglecting homework, and reading in study rooms. There, I decided to give my favorite book another look over and things had changed to say the least. Looking past the prose, I found that Meursault had changed. His withdrawn laissez-faire attitude no longer charmed me like it once did. I was critical of his choices. I wanted to shake some sense into the man. What had happened to my Meursault? The third, fourth, and fifth times I read the book was my senior year of college. To graduate, I had to take “Reading, Researching, and Writing as an English major” and in this class we had to choose a book where we would write five different essays about the same book. Each essay would break down the novel from a different lens, arguing that the book could be seen as freudian, feminist, marxist, etc. You see where I’m going? At the end of this class and multiple readings of “The Stranger”, my feelings about the book had come to a place that I still currently am at. It is a good book about a flawed man that does a bad thing that deserves no sympathy. When I was first introduced to the book as a not-so-confident edgy teenager, it spoke to me, which in hindsight, was problematic (kinda like reading fight club and thinking Tyler Durdan is the hero) As I got older and lived life, the more and more I disliked and distanced myself from Meursault. Although many old partners would definitely describe me as aloof, distant or even just a robot that does not have emotions, my own similarities with the protagonist of the novel end there. This view that life is an absurd place and asking the universe for meaning in a place that already makes no sense, isn’t too crazy, to me. The difference is what we do after coming to that point. Meursault understands this, but continues to make choices that negatively affect his life. If there is no meaning in life, there is something freeing about being able to live a life that is meaningful to us, not being assigned meaning or a purpose. To find meaning in our own way through loved ones and how we spend our time here on this plane. I am not a complete subscriber to this school of philosophy, but I understand it. And understanding it allows us to understand the downfall of Meursault.

Just like “The Stranger”, my feelings about “Destiny” are mixed. My first introduction was “The Taken King” DLC, so I missed the fiasco and dumpster fire that was the game at launch. The game was a sleek FPS with great shooting mechanics and an unmatched feel that you can always come to expect from Bungie. A looter shooter with updated weekly events that always keeps the player grinding for better gear and weapons through various different activities. There are also some flaws, like a lack of content, a passable story (compared to the entire lack of one on launch), skill based matchmaking, and microtransactions. Flaws and all, it still is my favorite and it has nothing to do with the game. 

I bought the game in the summer of 2016. That spring, I had transferred schools from Victor Valley College to Eastern Arizona College, both junior colleges, where I played in pursuit of a D1 scholarship. So I went from middle of nowhere,California to bum fuck, Arizona where the only thing in the town was a Sonic and a Walmart. I still remember my first day at EAC, flying into Phoenix and the coaches took us on a tour of Arizona State’s campus. “If you work your ass off, you can be right here.” one of the coaches said, as we looked at all of the hardware and banners they had earned throughout the years. The tour concluded and we shuffled back onto a tightly crammed bus and began a three hour voyage to the school. The street lights quickly disappeared and only high beams and desert stars lit the darkness. I remember telling myself that no matter what this had to be better than sharing a two bedroom apartment with ten people in Victorville. Despite my doubts, we made it further through the darkness. I dozed off on the bus, not waking up until we had finally made it back to campus. It had to have been one in the morning or later when we arrived. The old brick dorm had stood the test of time and had seen better days. As me and the others made our way off the bus with our lives packed in a suitcase, I pulled open the heavy doors to enter. I walked down a long corridor, seeing a window with a man sitting behind it. As I got closer, his radio got louder and clearer along with the man. His milk chocolate complexion, bald head, and round belly would have you think he was an easy going man but his thick forearms and weather hands would say otherwise. I didn’t know it at the time but this would be my linebacker coach. His Dallas accent rolled off his tongue to greet me, while he turned down the music. “All I do” by Stevie Wonder is still hard for me to listen to now. He gave me my room key and I headed to my dorm. The blue carpets that led to my room were almost entirely black with many burn marks and rips throughout. I got to my room, unlocked the door and was greeted by kid playing Madden with fast food bags and trash all along his desk. He glanced up at me and let me know I had the top bunk and went back to his 4th quarter drive. In the dorm that was about as wide as my wingspan, I climbed up to my bed where my legs dangled off the edge. I knew it would be a long year.

So that summer, while at home in Vegas, “Destiny” was my escape. It was what I did instead of thinking about what I had to get back to. Playing with my friends all night, talking trash and just having fun. I could probably count on my hands how many times I actually trained that summer, because any football activities would remind me of where I had to be. As nerdy as it sounds, beating the King’s Fall raid with my friends is probably one of my favorite memories and it happened in a video game. It was a bright spot during dark times, and it was one of the best, while also being the worst, summer of my life up to that point.

 I’ve played “Destiny 2” for a bit when it came out and some other times after that. It’s an okay game, but I don’t find myself reaching for it. They even re-released the Kings Fall raid but I don’t have much of an interest in playing. It was a moment in time that I don’t think I can get back, and I’m fine with that. I had it when I needed it most but I prefer to look back on the fondness of it, acknowledge the truth of it, and appreciate what it was.

Nostalgia is a deeply personal thing. Sometimes it’s shared, whether it be with siblings, friends, or even generations. Other times it’s something that only you get to experience. But this idea of positive and negative nostalgia is something that I’m sure all of us have experienced or can look back on. Whether it be people, places, or things, they all go through changes, and so do we. The ebbs and flows of life weather us to turn us into something new, but sometimes we blow the dust of the past and take a look back.