There have been four eras of video games in my life: my childhood was the GameBoy, SNES, and N64 era, college was my PC gaming era, my time in NYC was the Couch Co-Op era, and I'm now in the midst of my all-platforms era. Though the idea of the couch co-op has changed to accommodate different time zones, I would be remiss if I didn't touch on the profound imprint sitting next to a great friend while playing video games has left on me. 

 

Couch Co-Op is the genesis of my recent submergence into video games and video games media. I consider myself extremely lucky to have an embarrassment of good quality friends in my life. My longest and strongest friendship has roots in Southern California, but was built in New York City during a magical time in my years on Earth, a time that consisted little of responsibility and predominantly of galivanting and gaming. A majority of those friendship building blocks were in the form of split-screen games like Haze, Gears of War, Kane & Lynch, Army of 2, and Borderlands. Fast forward to today; I live in California, and my couch co-op buddy lives in New York City. We had to adapt. Couch co-op, for us, has shifted to story-driven games that support two players in an online capacity. Unfortunately, it's become increasingly difficult to find games that fit in that category. Interest in story-driven games has waned; studios aren't making as many, and the financial model of success has instead shifted to creating games that are serviced-based and perpetually online, completely eliminating a traditional story campaign in favor of PvP/ PvE experiences; i.e., Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War, Star Wars Battlefront 2, Apex Legends, Overwatch, among others. Though I don't play them often, I know what to expect when I play an online military shooter or arena-based fighter: I need to be at peace with dying a lot, A LOT. 

 

Because my buddy and I are problem solvers and not too stuck in our ways, we decided to try something new. After all, the reason for us playing video games together in the first place is to maintain our friendship. Our solution? Red Dead Online. We both loved Red Dead Redemption 2 and were eager to team up as capable cowboys to stop bad guys, go fishing, and shoot our revolvers in the air. Welp, it turns out Red Dead Online is a dumpster fire and I needed to have better managed my expectations. Before my time with this game, it had been maybe five years since I last rage-quit. My buddy and I formed a two-person posse and set up a respectable camp for us to hang out and drink coffee (or whiskey). Whenever we would venture out of our camp (safe zone), we would immediately get targeted by another posse for no other reason than, seemingly, being in the same server they were. After we were handily dispatched and would respawn, they would repeatedly search for us and hogtie us or open fire. I could sense their evil laughter behind their controllers. And it wasn't just one posse; it felt like all available posses were out to get us. We had short-lived moments of vindication after reporting to Rockstar these players and their disruptive behavior. It was all for not because after the fifth or sixth time in a hogtie position, I pressed the PS button, then the options button, and closed the G.D. game. 

 

Ok, so... griefing...

 

Griefing is a problem, or at least it is in Red Dead Online, and it's why I bounced off. Rockstar's response to this was to raise the bounties on the disruptive players, but it didn't solve the problem; it only created more bounties for the players trying to defend themselves from these fun-sucking rapscallions. 

 

Thinking about it further, I want Red Dead Online to be like Destiny. I want to go into the main cowboy hub and see loads of other cowboys without having to worry about them attacking me and mine. It's not Rockstar's responsibility to cater to my wishes. After all, Red Dead Redemption 2 is a game about the impending death of the Wild West; it's a game where you encounter outlaws of all ilk. Hell, you're an outlaw yourself. It makes sense that the online mode of that game would also incorporate outlaws. One can view Red Dead Online as a challenge to the players' video game morality. How did they play in the campaign? Will the lessons learned by Aurthur Morgan inform the way the online avatar is played? Will the sun pin-prick the clouds of frustration and expletive-laden Friday night gaming sessions? In my frenetic and apoplectic experience, the short answer is no. Red Dead Online is a wild west hell-scape where griefers go to grief and innocent players, having been griefed one too many times, turn into The Joker and set fire to as many cowboys they see. 

 

There's joy sitting next to a friend on a comfy couch to play video games and everyone deserves joy, especially gamers. My friendships are dear to me, especially those grounded in video games. I'll never stop looking for that next great couch co-op, the one where I can crack open a beer and settle in for some quality pew-pew gaming.