I don't usually think of sex while I'm playing Journey. Thatgamecompany's poetic, life-affirming masterpiece is one of my safe zones. Playing it is one of the things I do when I start to feel overwhelmed by the carnal desires of my sex addiction and the other stresses of life. Like many of my favorite games, it has the power to lose me in its world and themes; to quiet any consideration for the stresses and temptations of my sordid mind.
Braving the twisting dunes, dark temples, and freezing blizzards with an anonymous stranger is a great reminder that everyone encounters challenges and evils in their life, and that one is never truly alone. For different people, Journey can be many things; a meditation on life, religion or the human species' relationship with the Earth.
I haven't, however, heard anyone compare it to uninhibited, anonymous sex. But that's precisely what I was reminded of when I recently played it for the umpteenth time.
I entered the game, and as always, changed right into my white robe. I'd earned it after all - having found all of those elusive scarf pieces - I might as well use it. I figured I'd have trouble meeting anyone on my way to the mountain, what with the game being several years old on PS3 and the player base at its lowest. Mind you, this was about two months before the game's recent release on PS4. Surprisingly, I came across a traveler in the very first area as I was gathering scarf pieces and building the fabric bridge to the top of the canyon. We leapt in the air and chirped our greetings at each other, as if to exchange simple pleasantries. I tried to show him or her some of the secrets I had discovered in this zone, but they didn't seem to have much interest. They moved on to the next area without me and we parted ways.
In my travels, I encountered a few other people, but none of them really clicked with me. I continued on, perfectly content to resign myself to a life of solitude.
I had travelled through the first half of the game mostly alone. Having just finished my joyous trek down the sliding dunes, I entered the dark temples, prepared to face the stone dragons on my own. But suddenly, I heard a chime and saw that telltale glow on the corner of the screen, indicating that someone had joined me. To my delight, this person seemed just as elated to see me as I was to see them. We chirped and twirled with glee, practically embracing one another. Sure, I was willing to face the mountain alone, but that didn't mean I would refuse company now that the opportunity presented itself. And here was this person, in the right place at just the right time.
We synced up beautifully, unafraid of wandering in separate directions, but always finding our way back to each other. Though they wore a white robe as well, my acquaintance seemed disinterested in finding any scarf pieces on this journey. Being a completionist, I couldn't leave any of those shiny little shapes unearthed. I appreciated though, that whenever I wandered off, my companion was still right there waiting for me at the next juncture. As they say in the dating scene, we had great chemistry.
This is where the similarities to casual sex come in. Sure, you could compare these traits to simply dating someone and building a connection. But I don't have much experience with that to be honest. Most of the women I've slept with in my life, I've slept with on the first meeting, either with the sole intention of performing intercourse or under the guise of a proper date, but with every intention of having sex. I'm a sex addict. That's what we do. We don't know how to date someone without having sex. Even my wife, and the mother of my child would admit that our relationship was established on a foundation of intense sexual chemistry.
In my struggles with sex addiction (which haven't completely dissipated, to be honest), I've had throwaway experiences, quick fixes and fun but meaningless flings. Then there are those times - as I experienced with my wife - that you meet someone with whom you share an obvious, unavoidable connection and the sex becomes something more; something special. You ignore all other distractions, forget the world around you exists and your senses are heightened to a degree that you literally feel invincible. It's an elevated dopamine kick, a high that no artificial chemical could provide.
My experience with Journey on that night wasn't quite on that level. But like any game that tries to replicate the thrill of a real-life experience - be it racing a car at 200 MPH or soaring down a mountain on a snowboard - a pitch perfect simulation is never actually the goal. The simulation of the feeling of those experiences is the goal.
And so, as my partner and I trudged through the heavy powder at the peak of the mountain, with the winds barreling against us, we kept each other company. When they fell behind and were hit by one of the devastating temple dragons, I put myself in harm's way to find them. As the storm became too much to bear, we kept each other close, tiny squeaks of encouragement spouting out of our cloaks. In those moments, we were all that existed in the world. Two souls sharing an experience that will never be replicated again.
When finally, we reached the last area; the very peak, the heaven equivalent, the zenith... I had a terrifying moment. My companion seemed to have disappeared. I popped into the frame after the penultimate cutscene, when suddenly, I appeared to be alone. For a moment I thought they may have turned off the game, leaving me to finish on my own.
Then out of nowhere, they appeared and chirped their greeting. The two of us travelled along the cloudy valleys and misty waterfalls practically in unison, completely in sync. We separated for a bit to splash and glide at our own pace, but as I reached the final ascension point, there was my partner waiting for me. We ascended through the light and landed together at the top, our once infinite scarves brought back down to nothing. We had completed our Journey. As we reached the snow at the top, my partner walked in a deliberate pattern to create the shape of a heart in the powder. I had never thought to communicate in this way within the game, but I wasn't completely surprised by the gesture. I reciprocated it and we stood for a moment before both chirping gently in each other's direction like two people bowing politely.
We then walked toward the light to finish our adventure. As we walked, we swayed back and forth toward the glow at the end of the chasm. We synchronized our movements, swerving in unison until coming together at the very end to form one silhouette as the light overtook us.
It was a romantic, hypnotic and beautiful dance. It was like sex. Good sex.
It was two anonymous human beings sharing a moment that bonded them, at least for that time and place.
But it also wasn't.
When the pixelated dust of the desert settled and the credits rolled, I sat in awe of what had just transpired. A certain guilt came over me in fact, as my wife sat downstairs in our house watching The Bachelorette while I was upstairs having this fling with a stranger.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I had just experienced a truly romantic emotion through a video game. Something that, despite all the David Cage awkward attempts at coitus and the debonair love making of The Witcher 3, games had always failed to replicate.
Yet, the more I thought about it, the more hollow it all became in my memory. Journey is just a game after all. And through it all, this was more mutual masturbation than love making. I would've completed my adventure with or without my happenstance partner and so would they if I weren't there. It all would've essentially played out the same way. I've done that trip so many times, I could practically do it blindfolded.
This is where the recovering part of me tries to downplay the significance of the supposed connection that I shared with this person. This is the part where I tell you that I don't need that validation, I don't need that perceived high.
This however, is the part where the addict in me tells you, void of any cognitive misdirection, that this was a real experience. This was a real connection between two people. In my life, that connection has often been facilitated by the act of sexual intercourse. In this case, it was simply facilitated by a game.
Sex, like video games, has the power to silence any other noise. If you allow yourself to be fully present in the act, it can become a life-changing event. It scares me to think how interconnected my love for video games and my need for sexual validation have become, but never before has a game opened my eyes to that like Journey did on that night.
I'm still processing what lesson, if any, should be gleaned from this experience. It's certainly, at the least, another testament in a long list of testaments to the beauty and mastery of thatgamecompany's opus. If you own a PS4 and haven't played Journey yet, I obviously can't recommend it enough.
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