“That seems essential”
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Splatoon is an incredible videogame. If you’re not familiar, two teams of four compete to paint as much of a level in their team’s colour as possible.
The third instalment came out a few years ago, and when it did, Nintendo cunningly released a special edition console to go along with it. I already had a Switch and didn’t need a new one, even one with a fancy new OLED screen and longer battery life. I was fine … until I wasn’t. Alice was away, and in a moment of weakness, I messaged her to say that I loved the console and thought I should get one.
“That seems essential” she replied.
She understood! I was thrilled, clicked buy and excitedly waited for my new toy to arrive while preparing my existing machine to be handed down to one of the boys. Responsible parenting I thought. This way, the youngest could have his own system, and we could all play together. When it arrived and Alice had returned I showed her the new console.
“Look how cool the colours are, and that bigger screen, it’s nice, isn’t it? Deeper blacks from the OLED panel too, and the battery life is better!”
“It’s very nice,” she replied, “but why is it here?”
Why share this tale of rampant consumerism? Well partly because it’s funny to reflect on me behaving like a kid but also because I suspect, dear reader, that we’re not so different. I don’t shop a lot, but when I do it’s because I get the fever. A powerful urge usually backed up by a use-case constructed to justify the purchase which, for a period, will blind me to anything but that thing. In this case it was fine, I sold a bunch of old things on eBay to cover most of the cost of the new system. It isn’t a particularly reckless thing to do as a full time employed adult working in the games industry, but the fever has been gripping me a lot of late and I’ve been in danger of giving in. The Fuji X Half, an M5 film camera, a rare Leica M11-D with a stunning custom made case, even the mighty Switch 2 that comes out this week. I mention all of this because what I jokingly refer to as “the fever” is actually a real symptom. A symptom of exposure to the signals that surround us. That constant drone telling us that everything will be better if we just get this one thing. Marc Maron touched on something related at the start of last month on his podcast WTF. Below is the part that stood out to me, I’ve edited the text but include a more complete audio excerpt on the website.
“So look, you guys, we live in an age, this will be known as the, ‘when is everyone going to shut the fuck up era’. Just people blathering everywhere. You know, I get overwhelmed and I don't know if I've talked about this specifically, because look, we do almost an analog thing here.
… That's why we still do it this way, because audio is kind of magic. There's an intimacy to it, that you live with it in your head. And the way you engage with audio, especially talking, is very different than video. But it's also, we are not on the big battlefield of memes and clips and everything else.
And as time goes on, because of this idea that we don't have the attention span anymore to watch long form anything, that the attention span of people, because of data accumulated through algorithms, then made into a generalization about human beings' ability to pay attention, and to engage with something for more than a certain number of minutes, is sort of like the precedent set.
And I think it's bullshit. And I have a really hard time knowing that this is the adjustment artists are making. Comics, whoever, musicians, people who talk for a living, that it's been drilled into our head that people just can't do it anymore.
And one of the great things about being a solo artist or an artist at all is that, you know, you create the space for yourself to do what you do, to get how you express yourself out there …”
From WTF with Marc Maron Podcast: Episode 1639 - David Harbour, 1 May 2025
This really resonated with me and I wanted to share it because it reminds me to focus on what I’m making and why I’m making it. To be aware of the signal to noise ratio around us that influences the actions we take, maybe even the tools that we choose/ justify buying in a moment of fevered ideation. That time we spend scrolling or researching, looking at cameras and lenses or other bits and bobs. Sometimes that’s a good thing. It leads to conversations with friends that lead to creative ideas of one sort or another, but there’s a point where it risks tripping over into paralysis or pure fantasy. I’m going to work hard to try and remember what I’m making, notice where my mind is wandering and, where possible, not to stray farther than is useful from the path.
There’s a job to be done, a show to be made, conversations to be had and staring at gear won’t get me nearer to that goal.