Press Start To Understand

The lights are dim, the glow from the computer screen is barely enough to illuminate the rumpled sheets and the discarded pizza boxes on the floor. The room vaguely smells like a combination of body odor, stale pepperoni pizza, energy drinks, and Cheetos. A very tired, unkempt, barely dressed, and overweight male sits zombie-like in a high-backed gamer-chair, eyes glued to the screen, only his hands furiously moving his mouse and keyboard as he climbs higher and higher in the ranks of World of Warcraft.

At the same time, across the globe, a gamer gathers her controller, fuzzy robe, slippers, and cup of tea. She turns down the lights, powers her Switch on, snuggles into her weighted blanket, and invites her cat to come snooze on her lap while she organizes all her chests and crops from her latest harvest in Stardew Valley. The room smells of eucalyptus, ginger, and clean laundry as the cozy, warm light complements the similarly cozy feeling emanating from her game.

Both are stereotypes, of course. But aren’t both gamers?

For whatever reason, “gaming” has been saddled with an image problem. It’s often dismissed as unproductive, a waste of time, or “less-than” other forms of entertainment. Watching a show on Netflix or reading a book? Meaningful. Playing The Witcher 3, which is based on that very same book series? Somehow juvenile.

But if we step back and really look at what goes into creating a video game, it becomes clear that it is so much more.

A game is literature, because it tells a story—one that the player experiences, interacts with, and even shapes. It is cinema, with stunning visuals that rival any big-budget blockbuster. It is music, with scores that can transport you to other worlds and stir your emotions in ways you didn’t know were possible. And, unlike a book, a movie, or a song, it is dynamic. A game must respond to the player’s choices, adapt in real time, and offer an experience that feels personal, even as it remains universal.

Think about that for a moment: a video game is art, but it is also a feat of engineering.

Games don’t just happen. They are meticulously crafted over months or years by teams of designers, programmers, artists, writers, composers, and testers. They require the precision of coding, the creativity of storytelling, the visual mastery of art, and the careful pacing of game design to make sure every moment feels right. It’s a miracle they come together at all, let alone that they sometimes achieve greatness.

And yet, here we are, decades into the evolution of the medium, living in a world where video games are pushing boundaries. What started as simple pixelated challenges like Pong and Pac-Man has grown into an industry that brings us sprawling open worlds, emotionally devastating narratives, and multiplayer experiences that connect millions of people across the globe.

Consider how games like The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild offer players unparalleled freedom to explore at their own pace, or how titles like Hades combine sharp writing, fast-paced combat, and breathtaking art to create something truly unique. Games like The Last of Us force us to confront deeply human emotions—grief, love, and survival—and stick with us long after the credits roll.

And the audience for these experiences? It’s bigger than you think. Gamers come in every age, gender, and background. They might unwind with a quick match of Mario Kart, disappear into the epic storytelling of Red Dead Redemption 2, or bond with their kids over building a house in Minecraft. The idea that gaming is a monolithic hobby is outdated—if it were ever true to begin with.

So, to those who scoff at gaming as a waste of time or as “lesser” than other art forms, I’d ask: have you really taken the time to understand what goes into it? Have you tried to see how gaming has grown, matured, and diversified over the decades? Or are you still picturing that same tired stereotype of the guy yelling at his computer screen, Dorito dust on his fingers?

Because here’s the thing: games are not just entertainment. They are art. They are connection. They are joy.

To the gamers reading this: you don’t need permission to enjoy your hobby. And if you find yourself in a conversation with someone who doesn’t quite get it, maybe share this with them. Suggest they sit down and try a game themselves—something that speaks to their interests. Maybe they’ll fall in love with the charm of Animal Crossing, or lose themselves in the breathtaking landscapes of Horizon Zero Dawn.

And maybe, just maybe, they’ll finally understand that gaming isn’t about what you see on the surface. It’s about everything underneath—the creativity, the artistry, and the humanity.

Let’s face it: they’re already halfway there. After all, we’re all just looking for an escape, a story to sink into, or a way to connect with something bigger than ourselves.

So, pick up the controller. You might just find that this “waste of time” is actually one of the most meaningful experiences you’ll ever have.