F.I.F.A stands for something French about football. Yet, to my dismay, this game is about soccer. And when I say “about soccer” I mean that it makes wild gestures toward something that might be soccer, but isn’t quite, because it’s an SNES game.
What makes this game impossible is the same thing that makes teen pregnancy impossible: you can’t really see what the crap is going on, and you have no clue what any of the buttons do, so actually putting the ball in the net is an achievement in itself. It’s really a game more about existence than anything else. It’s very Descartian in it’s presentation: you can’t prove that any of the other players actually exist (mostly due to the fact that you can’t see them on your screen) but you’re pretty sure that you’re the little blue dude with the ball.
Of course, as with every soccer game, the ball is merely a construct of the establishment. “Take the ball,” so those lofty seats with high faces perched idly watching. “Take the ball and score a goal.” But this is meaningless!! The outcome of a single match does not change anything. We are all tempted, in darkness, by things we have no understanding of! Falling down stairs as we drink too much wine! Climbing up stairs in the workplace! We tumble and climb, we pass the ball!
There is no game. It is life.
We are the audience.
We are pissed out of our minds.