Raptured Memory

I don’t remember the first time I played BioShock. Or the second. Or even the third. I know I have because my save files tell me so. It happens every three years, like clockwork, as though some dormant programming is triggered — maybe it’s the changing leaves or the waning light of shorter days. Because it always happens in the fall, when things change, when they begin to rot and decay.

You’ve heard the saying “a mind like a steel trap”? Well, I’ve got a mind like a spaghetti strainer, and while my kids joke about it, I insist that I just don’t hold onto things that aren’t immediate or important. Sometimes I do worry about eventually losing my memory altogether, but often I choose to focus on the benefits instead.

The heart of BioShock centers around memory and manipulation, and what I don’t remember about the game is what makes it enjoyable to replay. Like the game’s protagonist, Jack, each time I descend into Rapture, I’m in awe. The Art Deco city beneath the sea is beautiful and mysterious, and even though I know inside is a hellscape, my memory of what waits below is fragmented. Images of Big Daddies and Little Sisters, splicers and plasmids flash in my mind’s eye much like the images Jack sees throughout the game, of his family or his home. He and I are in this together, both of us clueless.

I never remember that Atlas will betray me or that the Little Sisters will save me. I don’t remember the mad characters I will meet, the disquieting recordings I will find, or the ghosts that show up unexpectedly, their horror stories played out for my benefit. My shock every time I learn that I am nothing more than a lab-grown weapon for the story’s villain is both ridiculous and delightful, and realizing that I must become a Big Daddy to defeat my enemy is always horrifying.

This is the benefit of my spaghetti-strainer mind. The ability to re-experience games like BioShock is worth the teasing from my children. I can enjoy their laughter when I fumble for words or laugh at a joke I’ve heard a hundred times because even though I easily forget the insignificant details, I always remember the things that are important to me.