The Nostalgia Experiment -- When Bias is Right
Updated: Aug 11
Article Synopsis by Ms. Gabbi Grace
"The Nostalgia Experiment -- When Bias is Right" is an insightful article that explores the impact of nostalgia on our perceptions of past experiences, particularly in retro video games.
Mr. Tomasio applied a self-conducted experiment where he revisited old PS2 games and analyzed their feelings of joy, despite the games' acknowledged flaws. The article provides a mix of personal reflections and philosophical musings on how subjective experiences can sometimes align with reality.
The article's strength lies in its personal touch, making the topic relatable and engaging. Many readers will likely identify with the experience of revisiting something from their past and finding joy in it despite its imperfections.
The article acknowledges the power of nostalgia bias while questioning whether this bias might reveal deeper truths. The author is not blindly defending his nostalgia, but is open to the possibility that their feelings might have validity beyond mere sentimentality.
The article also explores the philosophical implications of their experience, questioning whether bias always leads us astray or if it can sometimes point us toward a more profound truth. This layer of philosophical inquiry adds depth to the discussion and elevates the article beyond a simple reflection on video games.
In conclusion, "The Nostalgia Experiment -- When Bias is Right" is a thought-provoking article that successfully blends personal experience with philosophical reflection.
Introduction
For the sake of writing this article, I have conducted a specific experiment on myself. The purpose of that experiment was to try and see, whether the things I look at, with great nostalgia, are actually as enjoyable as I've seen them to be, long after I had them in my possession.
In other words, I wanted to better understand a specific bias, the nostalgia bias (also known as the nostalgia effect), which looks at things as better than they actually were, just because of positive, past experience. These are my findings and my insights on them.
Part I: The Experiment
I am mainly giving here games as examples. However, obscure classics like "The Room"Â still influenced me to this very day. Other examples are the esoteric "background music" themes you can find across Philosocom. Ideas, like having a blog today, resonates mainly with the past, where blogs were more dominant. This even applies to trends like skateboarding and disciplines like philosophy (academically). Either way, both the esoteric, the currently-irrelevant, and fiction in general, can often teach us about reality either way.
For over a decade, the iconic PS2 lay inactive in my memory, gathering dust like a relic of bygone eras. Then, a birthday gift restored the forgotten console from memory to reality, casting me back into a pixelated world I once devoured with addiction.
Looking back, these games were riddled with imperfections that critics pointed out mercilessly and with bias. Yet, through my innocently-tainted lens of nostalgia, they shimmered with an undeniable charm I haven't found anywhere ever since.
The harsh critiques stung with their counterpoints to the positivity of obscure media.
My questions are the following: have I stumbled onto a grand illusion? Are my childhood memories none more than a fabrication of my mind?
As I realized, the answer is no, and no to these two questions, at least partially. You see, these critics can't cancel my own subjective reality, which is equally real as theirs. Perhaps, the critics missed the mark, blinded by their sophisticated standards, without actually asking themselves "were there people who enjoyed these flawed games?". Maybe, just maybe, my biased nostalgia held a nugget of truth, making subjectivity in general worthy of redemption.
Modern games, with their dazzling graphics and intricate mechanics, paled in comparison to the retro magic, for some uncanny reason. This proves how the appeal to novelty is a fallacy. The "better" experience they provided, as conventional wisdom dictates, failed to ignite the same spark. This phenomenon wasn't unique to me; the family member who gifted me the console confessed to a similar disconnect.
We were not the only ones with the same sentiments, as there are more-objective reasons for the decrease of joy in video games, from quantity-over-quality of many games' content to focusing on having us addicted rather than having fun.
Nostalgia, yes, undoubtedly swayed my perception. But could it be the sole culprit? Or was there a deeper truth hidden within the primitive graphics? Perhaps, it was the unpretentiousness, the raw gameplay unburdened by excessive complexity. Maybe, it was the fact that they helped me relieve me of my loneliness, which I feel to an extent to this very day.
Understanding the allure of the "better" is easy. We're conditioned to equate advancement with superiority. Yet, this seemingly logical equation crumbles when confronted with the emotional resonance of simpler experiences, as sufficient to deliver us what we were promised.
Nostalgia, I realized, wasn't just a sugar-coated lens. It could serve as evidence of lives that were well-lived. Well-lived shared laughter, discovery, and memories, mentally experiencing upon one's reflection on the past.
So, while I acknowledge the shortcomings of retro games (like of a game that improved my morality), I celebrate their ability to deliver joy that transcends technical prowess (graphics, soundtrack and so on).
Modern marvels hold their own undeniable appeal. But in the realm of gaming, it seems, "better" isn't always synonymous with "more enjoyable." Sometimes, joy resides in the imperfections of this intricate reality. Also in video games but also in many other fields of life, such as in music and in art.
It's also why the 2000's have a charm of their own, just like with the decades before it.
Part II: When Nostalgia Meets Truth
While bias often warps our judgment, there are times when our twisted perspectives unexpectedly align with reality. I freely admit my bias towards the vintage video games of my childhood. Yet, what surprised me most was discovering that my biased lens not only painted a different picture, but might actually resonate with the fun I had 20 years ago.
A true philosopher strives to minimize bias, seeking diverse perspectives to comprehend the full scope of truth. However, this experiment suggests a fascinating possibility: perhaps our preexisting biases aren't always completely irrational.
If my fondness for retro games stemmed purely from bias, playing them wouldn't differ from enjoying any other product. But something inexplicable happens when I revisit these pixelated worlds -- they spark a joy unparalleled in modern gaming. Furthermore, some may even claim that modernity has generally lost its spark, as the world around us became more bland.
This begs the question, if bias leads us astray from reality, then why does this "deviant" viewpoint resonate so deeply?
Even the hardware limitations contribute to the charm. The occasional console crash, a well-considered objective flaw, can also be seen as just another quirk, adding to the unique experience.
Conclusions
Modern games, despite their sophisticated mechanics, often feel sterile and "liveless", like polished but soulless gems. Older games express a distinct spirit -- an infectious vibrancy that transcends graphics and complexity.
Like in true love, some flaws in a product, like in a person, can be loveable. Perhaps, things and beings can be loved because of their flaws.
The question remains: why is my biased nostalgia seemingly aligned with truth? Why does retro simplicity sometimes trump modern marvels? This, I confess, is a mystery yet to be completely unraveled. Perhaps it's the raw, unfiltered emotions into these early experiences, or maybe the sense of adventure fueled by limited technology, with little need for excellent degrees of beauty.
However, whatever the reason, one thing is clear: Sometimes, embracing a touch of nostalgia leads not to delusion, but to a rediscovery of experience "forgotten" by the unconscious mind.
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