It’s the year 2983, and Earth has been completely stripped of its resources. Mankind’s last hope is an extra-planetary city of refuge called Camp Dune.
In an alternate reality, the world is in the throes of a zombie apocalypse, brought about by a mysterious flesh-eating virus that has infected thousands of people in a global “pandemic” (just thousands?). The vaccine is in an isolated laboratory, but in short supply.
Fighting to survive this double onslaught of existential threats, two nations vie for control of Camp Dune and the limited stock of vaccine. They deploy their elite strike forces, wielding the most devastating weapons known to man…
Nerf guns.
The Nerf wars – fought at the Nerf Action Xperience at Marina Square, Singapore – are not mere turf wars. They are existential in nature, not just for the arbitrarily named Blue and Orange nations but for all humanity. Fortunately, valiant ticket-paying warriors are drafted and sent to the “frontlines” every 15 minutes, armed with plastic guns, foam bullets, and a zeal to protect their randomly assigned “nation’s” future.
It’s great fun not just for children, but for blokes like me who would prefer not to remember their rifle-handling days. Normally, I’d just laugh off the absurdity of the kiddy simulations and not give them a second thought. But throughout my time there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss, like a tiny vacuum sucking a bit of fun from the experience.
Perhaps I found the striking parallels with current affairs a little too close for comfort, like an inappropriate parody. For we are still in a pandemic, with societies divided over vaccines. War dominates the headlines, and the spectre of environmental catastrophe hangs over us. Obviously, I wouldn’t go so far as to accuse such games of trivialising the tragedies of our age – it’s harmless fun with no malicious intent, and too much of today’s entertainment would be unfairly caught in that dragnet anyway. But the uncanny similarities did prompt me to consider more deeply the underlying assumptions of these games and the implicit messages they carry.
What immediately caught my attention about both games was their zero-sum nature. In the face of cataclysmic ecological and public health disasters, each squad’s goal is to hoard resources and vaccines to ensure the tribe’s survival. Never mind that the losing nation will still turn into zombies without the vaccine, or that Earth will still waste away as a fragment of humanity seeks refuge on another planet.
But if we’ve learned anything these last few years, it’s that the unbridled pursuit of self-interest harms us all. COVID should have sharpened our awareness of our interdependence and collective vulnerability in the face of global challenges.
Of course, that recognition does not and has not stopped self-serving behaviour, suspicion, and rivalry. In that sense, perhaps these games are somewhat accurate in their depiction of global dynamics (though they could have thrown vaccine scepticism and conspiracy theories into the mix!). But why recreate the sorry state of world affairs in fictional scenarios? If we can’t overcome our base instincts in the real world, maybe we could pretend to do so in the battle against zombies and eco-disaster?
I also get that all-or-nothing stakes offer an adrenaline rush and a sense of triumph, the same elements that make competitive sports so appealing. But with a bit of creativity, tweaks could be made to the Nerf wars to teach kids the value of collaboration in pursuit of the common good, while preserving the thrill of competition. Instead of limiting teamwork to #squadgoals, there could be bonus achievements unlocked when players cooperate across teams. Or the game design could include tasks that can only be fulfilled through cross-team coordination. Kids can still duke it out and blast each other mindlessly with foam projectiles, assuming their guns don’t keep jamming repeatedly. But then they forfeit extra points, while hopefully learning a valuable lesson about cooperation.
Too idealistic? Maybe. Am I overthinking things? Definitely. But that’s what happens when you try to escape the bleakness of the news cycle by going to a theme park, only to find yourself fighting another “pandemic” with plastic toy guns.
Paradox of Life 