Aesthetic life in games
2021-07-06
One of the more interesting experiences of college was being able to live in a "former" frat-house.
I noticed when initially moving in, dozens of whiteboards and sticky notes plastered all over the living room and kitchen with writing that went “wash dishes immediately!” “No shoes in house!” and suspiciously high quality drawings of cartoon characters yelling slurs that only the hands of illustration students can manifest.
As I got to know my roommates, it was immediately revealed that these were made by former mates who were here in a time long ago enough that my current roommates didn’t know who they were, meaning I was a generation in this household that have no connection to these historical artifacts whatsoever. And it was weirdly fascinating not in the way that typical historical artifacts fascinate people (I keep hating on the sterilization of curiosity in museums, sorry). But to live in the space of obsolete rules (yes we didn’t do the dishes or took off the shoes as the sign told us), it was a delight to appropriate the space as we, the new generation of students move in. A place with history creates a sense of belonging regardless if one is directly connected, I've learned from a particular someone.
As I crept between the seams of the kitchens, there laid THE red party cups and ping pong balls. So not only did this place have a past, it was a pretty wild past. The neighbors had grudges on us and probably for good reason as we were sandwiched between 2 retired couples trying to live a quaint life in the deserts of the Oakville suburbs. Meanwhile the landlord has established a house flipping empire within the neighbourhood, and gave no flying fucks on what happened in there as long as the building stood in piece. I found a few dozen of drawing pads, some blank which I survived off this paper supply for the rest of the year. The ones that were drawn on, I semi-mockingly critiqued it.
“Arms could use some work”
“Too stiff of a pose”
“Cool perspective..?”
Moving onto the living room, scattered were Magic the Gathering cards, miscellaneous hobby goods that might or might've not be expensive, LCD TVs and within the number of pillows rested on the couch was a Darth Vader pillow. It was edgy, lightning, fire, and Vader ominously staring at you. I could not tell if this was an ironic purchase or previous residents in this household were too broke to get proper covers. I will never know.
A makeshift wall cut right through the living room. One side retained its dignity as a living room and the other... was my "room". It was generously spacious for the $7-800 I paid monthly, enough that I can lay out most of my art equipment and still have plenty of space for dishes and laundry to pile up. But it took a while for me to realize that this wall that sleep against was originally not there, hence the odd geometry of my room (the flimsyness of the door was a big hint but I was too burnt out at that time to notice or care).
The kitchen was dirty, simply that. We often had fruit fly problems so we decided to set up traps. As if it's been a problem in the past, there were conveniently bottles of apple cider that we used to lure them with a mix of soap.
"Do we have any apple cider? I'm googling it and seems like that's the best solution"
"Oh look I found a bottle"
"Is that yours?"
"No"
"Then whose is it?"
"..."
Most things around the house were like that, missing in origin but with a purpose.
The stories that prop up every once in a while that embellished my surroundings with meaning is the point here. Why are things the way they are? Well because people occupied this space long before you existed and you will subconsciously appropriate some of its culture. It was the closest thing I've encountered to the typical college lifestyle, except it was the aftermath where I can quaintly observe its artifacts in peace. I'd hope to carry this attitude whenever I explore anywhere on this planet.