Nerf Wars

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.

This, too, shall pass.

Funny how blue represents both melancholy and optimism. (Photo taken somewhere in Paya Lebar.)

I assumed that this phrase was somewhere in the Bible, since I’ve been hearing it almost exclusively in Christian circles. I wasn’t sure where exactly, but my guess was that such a poignant, solemn reminder about impermanence would be found in David’s laments or Solomon’s musings, or perhaps even Jesus’ pronouncements about the end of time.

Actually, it is not found in either Testament. Instead, it is supposedly found in a fable about a ruler who issued a challenge to his wise men. In some versions, the ruler wanted a phrase that would remain consistently true amidst perpetual change. In other versions, the phrase was supposed to make the ruler happy when he was sad. Regardless of the exact challenge, the response of the sages was, “This, too, shall pass away.”

In the first version of the challenge, the ruler found that the phrase was indeed always true, because every moment in life is fleeting. In the other account, the ruler realised that the phrase was a double-edged sword, because it also dampened his moments of joy.

The fable can be found in Persian and Jewish folklore. In Jewish versions of this story, the ruler is King Solomon, and he is either the recipient or progenitor of this phrase. The phrase in Hebrew is “Gam zeh ya’avor” (גם זה יעבור), a direct translation of which would be “Also this will pass”.

As such, one could argue that the phrase does have a tenuous link to Christian tradition insofar as it involves a biblical character, King Solomon. But this would be a needlessly imaginative argument, for at least two reasons.

First, the Bible already has much to say about the impermanence of experience and the material world, often in contrast with the steadfastness of God’s character and precepts. For instance, Jesus told His disciples that heaven and earth would “pass away”, but His words would endure forever (Matt 24:35). Jesus also warned that our earthly treasures can be destroyed by moths and stolen by thieves, and urged us to store up treasures in heaven instead (Matt 6:19-20).

The scriptures also offer lessons on how we can respond to the ever-changing fortunes of life. The words of Job are instructional here. In the throes of abject misery, Job cried out, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21) He remembered God’s blessings even when he was under a curse, and chose a permanent response in the face of impermanence.

Second, it is more important to meditate on the lessons offered by this adage. The clearest and most cliched one is that “change is constant”. But we should push beyond this obvious conclusion, perhaps by trying to read the intentions behind the ruler’s request. Why did he ask his sages for a universal truth that withstood the vagaries of life? Was it merely an intellectual challenge, or did he need an anchor in troubled waters?

Something else to chew on – as mentioned earlier, the phrase is presented in one version of the tale as a double-edged sword, dispelling both sadness and ecstasy. And yet, we employ this phrase as a mantra only in times of tribulation. Of course, no one wants to be a downer reminding others that their moments of joy have an expiry date. But we should at least be mindful of this duality, so elegantly expressed by Abraham Lincoln when he said of the phrase, “How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!”

And indeed, how powerful four words can be.