Sludge Life

originally created: 28/05/2023
last updated: 28/05/2024

DISCLAIMER:
mild gore, mild substance abuse, overwhelming coolness
(and this page may take a while to load).

It's only in the worst of moments, when you believe there's absolutely no answer to your problems, and you feel hopeless and helpless, that you'll start to give value and consider the little answers that have always been there. Answers that are not necessarily to the problem at hand, but for the whole equation of your life. Little points of comfort, maybe happiness, that won't take you out of that awful spot, but will make existing in your skin more bearable. Often times that really is the best you can do: let time heal your wounds and just do your best to avoid sinking even lower.

My recent woes have done quite a number on me. The person I became after, and am still in transformation of, is much different from who I was before. From that point forward, things simply changed. Not only literally, since I lost my camera and was forced to trail a much different path from where I was at, but also because my world view changed. Not completely, I'm still me, but enough to be noticeable and have an impact on how I do basically anything. My art has changed, my interests, job, friends, my eagerness towards life. Everything is a little dimmer, tasteless, colorless, like the start of glaucoma, or the moment you notice death is closer to you than to the new baby born. You will smile still, coffee will be brewed every morning, plants will be watered, but your heart has suddenly become aware of the inexorable wheel coming your way.

I look back now, and my past actions seem wasteful. The truths I fought to defend, meaningless. The smiles, the frowns, days spent over the bed, all stubborn and willfully ignorant. I checked on my heart, and it beat as human as everybody else's. It pumped the same blood I see on the news, the same smeared on my hand, washed in the public restroom. Now, all I do is wait.

When the pointers seem to be stuck with every glance at the clock, and the days go by slow, I fear the worst. When the smell of cooked dinner, and that of flowers and smoke in the air downtown all carry grim undertones, I know it is coming. If the cop asks, and I know my age, my hand is itching to pull a knife.

I've been waiting. I've been waiting for a month now, for an answer, and I don't know how much longer I'll be waiting. Deep down I know what the end will hold, the answer is within me, but it doesn't seem to affect the journey.

Nevertheless, small comforts.

I've talked a little here before about losing my camera and how unexpectedly bad it still feels. Photography became very therapeutic to me, over the months. I never took it too seriously and enjoyed just capturing whatever felt right at any point of the day. That led to a pretty big collection of memories, dear or not, and to a certain accessibility in storytelling. Suddenly, I could just snap a picture of a flower and show to my friends, instead of just describing it. Same with places and spaces, rock shows and green parks, buses, bandos, people of all kinds. It was great, my camera was a part of me as both an intrinsic tool of my craft, and a companion I could be sure to always be there.

The trove now is a memoir of the time we spent together, and where I look back to remember my dear Samsung HMX-F900. I don't know if or when a replacement will come, or how different it'll be to fool around with another camera, but I know that the lessons I've learned from this experience will forever live in my heart.

Soon after the incident happened, and came the expected drought, photography seemed to lose the impact it had on my artistic expression. Felt inconsiderable, unachievable, and one less option in my perceived freedom. I was sure to never touch a camera again, despite the hopeful positivity I tried to show my peers, and that was it a for a good while. From a newfound staple of me as an artist, photography became another unfinished project I would never put myself to conclude. But then came Sludge Life. From the many games I've played in this downtime, revisited or new experiences, I found in it exactly what I needed to rethink my situation, get my head on right and reconsider the new certainties of my iron cast will.

The game is about exploration inside an open-world of sludge, filth and corruption. You're an up-and-coming tagger and your job is to build a reputation by tagging the whole place, earning the respect of your peers and following your instincts as a rebel artist. It is a lot of fun for its main aspect, the idea of pursuing this immense objective with no pay or reward but the truth you achieve in the pursuit of your passion; which sounds very familiar to many, I'm sure; but what really got me is a certain feature that I looked past in previous playthroughs, and that seemed perfect to me and my current problems at this time, a "virtual camera".

Apparently, in-game photography is a concept that seems to have always existed. From Pokémon Snap, to Fatal Frame, to modern games like Toem and Umurangi Generation, there's always been a public for this kind of thing —, a fact that simply flew over my head; — and now I know why.

Sludge Life taught me that taking pictures can be as fulfilling both in and out of real life, as long as both worlds are deserving of being photographed. Once the immersion kicks in, you can't even tell the difference; you're just in the zone, you're enjailing moments from the world around you, existing within and modifying it. That's what I love about photography, this feeling of control over lived-reality, and what I've found in the game, as an object of comfort and a possible temporary solution to one of the bigger problems I've been facing.

So, without further ado, I present to you my favorite photos from this in-game photography project. Be mindful, though, that my computer is not the best and the game was in pretty bad graphic quality when the pictures were taken. Nonetheless, enjoy.