I've been casually playing Sony's EyeToy: Kinetic over the past couple of days and yes, it seems to be working. The various wobbly bits are starting to firm up and I'm starting to look at my TV/console/EyeToy with disgust and horror. I've also developed a deep distain for computerised avatars that show no obvious signs of sweat, pain or discomfort, even when doing things that are taking my breath away. You know, there's something to be said for flesh and blood when exercising. At least you can gain sympathy points and/or support by pulling agonised faces.
Mostly I've been doing the toning and yoga routines as the setup in my living room doesn't seem to work with the EyeToy's internal response system. No matter how much I adjust the dark and light settings, I can't get it to stop sounding off in places I'm nowhere near, which totally messes up my scores in the Combat and Cardio rooms. Note to those interested in purchasing this product - make sure you've got one blank wall and play in front of that. Maybe that will solve these freak issues.
Technological problems aside, it's a novel product which deserves a look. One thing which is substantially missing, however, is a key psychological element in any exercise regime: guilt. But how in the world is any game going to make you feel that?
Here are a few classic examples of games which have made me feel like I should be giving them more love:
Tamagotchi These strange Japanese gizmos took over the planet in the late 1990s, requesting feeding, watering, playing and general attention 24 hours a day. Kiddies took to them like wildfire, but it was the parents who suffered the wrath of guilt, when their little darlings' egg-thing croaked from lack of attention while at home during school hours. The result was a lucrative business of Tamagotchi-sitters. Clever entrepreneurs!
Black and White One of the great things about games is that you're encouraged to push the limits, to see just how far you can go. In Black and White, the Lionhead team gave players the opportunity to be as good or as evil as they wanted to be, towards either their little minions or with their big creature which learns how to be good or evil from the players' actions. If you chose to be evil, it could be quite a brutal game. After a while of smacking around your Ape, Tiger or Cow, it began to show bruises and cowered when you got near. It's actually truly awful. I still have nightmares about my brief foray into the dark side, and still wonder how it may have affected my creature in the long run.
The Sims You've fed them, watered them and occasionally allowed them to go to the toilet. You've taken care of their relationships, their jobs, their interior design. And then you drown them in the pool, just to see what happens. Oh God, how guilty do I feel?!
Animal Crossing This novel offline place on Nintendo's GameCube reminds you when you've not been around for a while. After a few weeks of this your in-game friends stop talking to you, rejected. And then you are alone. With your conscience.
Seaman The deceased Dreamcast's strange talking fish-thing similarly reminded you when you'd not been on for a while by dying of starvation and floating to the top of the tank the first time you loaded up the game after a spell away. It also made you feel unendingly guilty by crying when you were torturing it by shouted epithets at it through the microphone. Oh the humanity. Speaking of Seaman, there are rumours about that he may be resurrected in next-generation form...
Theme Park World I have to admit, I really only felt pangs of guilt in this business management simulation when I would put the burger stands in front of the most bodacious roller coaster and then "accidentally" forget to put a loo at the other end...
Online games (general) There's nothing quite like human guilt to get you logging on for the 60th hour in a row. There are so many layers of guilt associated with playing online games, least of which is for the significant other who's prepared a lovely meal which gets colder and colder as you play "just one more minute". In-game guilt can vary from not playing when your guild mates are moving into a particularly gruesome battle because you're on holiday, out to dinner or (gasp) don't have time, to leaving your avatar in a precarious position to potentially rot after being potentially massacred by brutal thugs who've - potentially - looted your corpse while you witter away your real-life time by doing - gasp - work.
