Just over two years ago, a friend of mine died in their sleep.
Let’s call them Ash, although it’s not their real name.
They were incredibly funny, emotionally open, and kind.
They were playing Sea Of Thieves.
Since social media exploded, almost anyone who dies leaves virtual footprints to follow.
How authentic is someone’s Steam profile as an expression of who they are or were?
“This is due to the influences of self-discrepancy increasing with larger audience size.”
I don’t think so."
I imagine they planted a very neat and beautiful farm, and that they played multiplayer.
I imagine they would have lovedlast year’s update allowing pets, because they loved their own cats.
But these are things I must only imagine.
“They kind of have a platform-specific self.
Some users even have multiple accounts on the same platform.”
But how does this map onto gaming, if at all?
I don’t know these rules, because I’m not a Sea Of Thieves player, really.
Ash played it almost every day with friends.
It makes me wish I had played with them, to see that version of them.
Another game wasCivilization VI, which is unsurprising.
They were a classicist, with several tattoos referencing Rome, or ancient gods.
When Civ VI launched, Ash played over 200 hours of it in the space of about a year.
I wonder what that year was like for them.
This makes me go back and look at other areas of Ash’s profile.
They thoughtReturn of the Obra Dinnis one of the best games ever made, and I agree.
On the other hand, perhaps I am grasping for meaning.
Correlation is not causality.
I can imagine a diary being the most intimate digital footprint someone can leave behind.
Our friendship at this early-mid stage of our lives was virtual.
I have realised in writing this piece, perhaps belatedly, that I didn’t know Ash the gamer.
They could log back on at any moment.
