A few months ago, before 2016 was destined to become a future VH1 special, I wrote about my childhood dreams of virtual reality and my ceaseless desire to not exist in this world. That was basically the thesis: I've always hated life, and pop culture tricked me into thinking virtual reality would solve everything.
Well, good news, you guys--I got virtual reality and it solved everything!
There should be a good sarcastic turn here. And if I had more emotional energy after this year, I'd nail it right home. I'd throw a good “NOT!” up in there and get high-fived by cool kids and it would be 1992 all over again.
So virtual reality didn't solve everything. It didn't even solve anything. Okay, it created even more problems. But it's actually here and it's actually much better than my childhood self expected it to be. Or, at least, what pop culture promised it would be to lonely kids like me.
Even at the surface level, virtual reality in the current, first generation, “We got your money, suckers!” version looks a million times better than it did in old movies. Yeah, yeah, I know we all love the 1980s neon polygonal landscape, but come on. It wasn't that great.
Except for HoloBall on PSVR, which is a lot of fun for $10!
Actually, look at HoloBall for a second. It's a dumb game. It's Pong. You use the motion controller to knock a ball back at a computer opponent who taunts you about your life. So you don't even miss out on having multiplayer.
The crazy thing about HoloBall isn't the __game itself. Like I said, it's Pong. But what's amazing about HoloBall is how much people want to actually try it. My roommate and podcast co-host, whose video __game enthusiasm might be best described as “mockery” saw me playing and immediately wanted a turn.
And a lot of people want a turn. Virtual reality is a novelty right now, but it's a novelty that gets people who don't game excited. And that excitement is nice. It's nice to have people who want to come over and hang out with you. It's almost a childhood-like feeling. My sister, another person who hates games, made me restart the Apollo 11 VR demo three times.
You know when you'd get a real good SNES or Genesis game? Like NBA Jam? Or Mortal Kombat II? And kids from around the block would want to come over and give it a try, even just to look at it? That's what virtual reality feels like right now. It's exciting.
Of course, I know that not everyone has fair weather friends who only come over when there's a carrot at the end of a stick. Even if that carrot is a $500 virtual reality helmet they're going to cover in their disgusting human sweat.
I get that it's a real Pollyanna view to like virtual reality because friends wanna hang. But it's literally the opposite reason I always wanted virtual reality. I always wanted virtual reality because I was fat and sad and felt pathetic and thought maybe, just maybe, the escapism of VR could make me feel like the person I actually wanted to be.
But that's not going to happen, at least not for the foreseeable future. We're still working on showing hands in VR without melting down a system, let alone a body suit that simulates whatever sex feels like. Is it like a hug and a kiss at the same time? I don't know; keep it locked here and shout out in the comments below. Video games.
Speaking of sex, yes, I tried virtual reality porn. It's really bad. Like, exceedingly not good. They still haven't really figured out scale, so it looks like a 60-foot-tall woman is yelling at you about your junk. It's like sex from the perspective of the baby in “Look Who's Talking.” Is this a bad metaphor? Sure. Is virtual reality porn better or worse than the sex in Lawnmower Man? Trick question--both terrible.
My honest hope--besides virtual reality porn not being a fucking nightmare--is that the games follow the excitement. Because right now, the games are fine. Some, such as Rez Infinite and Thumper, are amazing in VR and still great outside of VR. Others, such as Audioshield or Tilt Brush or HoloBall, are neat demos for what's to come. And a few, such as Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes, are exactly what I'm talking about. It's a game where one person wears a headset while everyone else shouts instructions. It's local multiplayer in a way that didn't work before.
Childhood me would've probably been bummed by it. Childhood me would've probably bemoaned needing other people around for a virtual reality game. All my friends can be robots! I even built a robot girlfriend and called her Mega Girl. This is true; I was seven. Who hasn't done this? Oh, none of you? None of you have done this?
In some sort of narcissistic child rage, I had hoped virtual reality would take me away from reality. It's right there in the title. And sometimes it does. It's easy to lose yourself in a game of Eagle Flight the same way you can lose yourself in a game of Battlefield 1 without virtual reality goggles. Because, that's how escapism works – you escape.
In fact, one of my favorite casual uses for virtual reality is weirdly enough the Hulu app--where you simulate a movie theater. You know, movie theaters--where things are improved by a social experience.
Here's the point, and I'm not sure if it's a good one, but I'll make it anyway: Virtual reality isn't going to be what any of us expected or wanted it to be. And it'll take a while before we don't want to throw up because the camera thought we teleported a foot forward. But instead of being an escape from an anti-social nightmare reality, it might make our actual garbage reality a little more fun and social.
So what's sex like?
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Mike Drucker is a Giant Bomb contributor and co-head writer for Bill Nye Saves the World, coming to Netflix in 2017. He's also written for The Tonight Show, Nintendo, The Onion, and SNL. His podcasts, “How To Be a Person” and “The Room Where It's Happening” can be found on iTunes. You can follow him on Twitter @mikedrucker and watch him on Twitch under the surprising name "MikeDrucker."