Gentlemen. Ladies. This is a story of defeat.
What is fishing?
Fishing is badass. It is catching a piece of nature and saying, “FUCK YOU FISH!” and killing it with a blowtorch after poking its gills for a while to make it suffer. It is a perfect metaphor for man’s dominion over nature.
Or is it…
Long ago there was a group of men called the Really Deep Chaps who said something so important that they engraved it on a rock using their bare knuckles. It was this: “Fishing is a sport of the mind. It is not about the catch, it is about the feeling of the breeze in your hair, the rocking of the boat, the singing of the birds, the poking of the petunias.” The tragically hip wrote a song about it. They called it, “Alberta Something Something.” But this is a true story, so I’ll get back to it. No, it’s done.
Flower children who grew up in the baby boom saw the engraving and misinterpreted it. They read it as a manifesto. They lined up around lakes, cast their rods in, and when the fish bit, they kissed them and threw them back. They lived by a new ethos of fishing, not one in which people pull animals out of lakes to say, “I MADE YOU,” metaphorically, but to wish the fish a wonderful life and at the same time get really into nature and shit.
Now, fishing games seem to be confused about which kind of fishing they want to give people. If they wanted it to be about catching fish, you’d think they’d actually let you catch fish every once in a while. If they wanted it to be about communing with nature, you’d think they’d have just told people to go play outside and not make the game so fucking frustrating.
So, the flower children are confused. The game looks like fishing, but it doesn’t have all the getting-in-touch-with-onesselfness and being-alone-for-awhileness. The people who like killing things are also confused, because what the fuck?
So, it is a story of a defeated people. It is a story that has no happy ending. Fishing games have the power to appeal to absolutely no one.
What’s the point?