When I first met Jasper, or as he is now know, Games Master Jasper, he was looking at a menu at one of Soho's most famous and expensive restaurants. When I inquired as to what he was doing, he told me he was removing the consonants mentally and seeking the pattern below the words. From there was struck a mutual acquaintance, of late nights and gin and tonics shared over discussions. I knew him before he was a Games Master, and when he became one, our nights of mutual friendship were few and far between, until this past weekend, when I finally had the opportunity to interview him after all these years.

Time had changed his appearance, but under it I saw the same Jasper I had called friend. He was wearing a suede jacket with leather patches, and a long pair of chinos. A fez sat, askew, on his head. His eyes, still as bright and sharp as they had been years ago, flashed under it like a razor in a dark alley. Age hadn't dulled his sense at all. He held in one hand a lowball glass of whiskey, his other hand tucked away in a jacket pocket. I could hear a vinyl of Kazuhito Yamashita's Pictures At An Exhibition; the perfect fusion of East and West, much like Jasper. He waved a hand to a leather seat by his side, and I sat, only to accidentally scratch the teak wood with my pencil. I winced, but Jasper laughed.

“Don't worry, I will only judge you by how many games you own.” He laughed again and took the seat opposing me, and before I could answer, said with a twinkle of sarcasm in his eye, “Oh, you're right. It's not very much.”

I smiled at him in spite of myself. He sipped at his whiskey, which I took as a cue to begin the interview. “Well, I suppose my first question to you is, why don't you tell me just a little bit about yourself? What powers the Games Master?”

“Well,” Jasper said, waving his hand at the wall behind him, on which several animal heads had been stuffed and mounted, “Food, like any other person?” He guffawed loudly and honestly, a throaty gasp. “Just a joke, of course. But really, I think that games fuel me, hence the 'games' in Games Master Jasper. I'm constantly striving to play more and more games and to add to my repertoire, as well asto add to the collective knowledge of video games. I suppose that's my purpose.” He took another sip of his finger of Laphroaig, and I sprang my next question, feeling oddly nervous with this man I had once called best friend.

“Well, that leads me to my next question: how do you feel about Mountain Dew's Gamefuel, even though Halo sponsored it?”

His face tightened and his eyes grew sharp. The ice in the glass tinkled and I feared I had misspoken. “Whether your stances on gaming are moderate, conservative, or even liberal, I choose to refrain from answering that question. That's all I have to say on that matter.”

I hastily apologized, “I hope I did not offend!”

He relaxed, the knot in his forehead dissipating like oil on water. “No offense taken "A gamer's opinion must be respected", if I may quote myself, and so I must respect yours.” His face betrayed nothing, but my breath caught. Did Jasper know I hadn't played a game in years, despite our vow to never stop? I pressed on.

“My next question lies on H-Date games, or Hentai dating games; what's your opinion of them, in relation to the world we live in?”

Jasper took another sip, a pinky pointed in the air. “First of all, I think most gamers prefer the term "eroge". Now it's not impolite to say H-Date, but most gamers just prefer it. Just putting it out there for your consideration.” I started to apologize again but he stopped me with an upraised hand, indicating the mistake was forgiven. “Secondly, I would like to say that I believe they allow us to explore the more intimate sides of both our inner selves, as well as the gaming experience. Up until eroge games, there have been very few intimate gaming experiences. Although I think some of the subject matter is inappropriate, I think that it's taking games to a new level.  A level previously unexplored.” I saw tears in his eyes, and remembered his wife Suki, now three years gone. Then that glint was gone with a blink. “That's all I have to say on that topic.”

“Fascinating...” I murmured under my breath. Jasper poured me a lowball glass of a gin and tonic and I accepted it without complaint. It was cool, and tasted like lemons. “I'd like to talk about your infamous youtube video attacking Chef Boyardee,” I began hesitantly, fearing an outburst, “As you may be aware, he's also a cocreator of Barkley: Shut up and Jam Gaiden. Did his politics affect your perception of the game?”

Jasper chuckled as he refilled his own glass and took his seat. “Please don't say 'attack', it is a very harsh word. I prefer 'gaming-criticize'. And no, it did not. You don't understand that Chef Boyardee and I are close associates. I have actually helped maintain the quality of many Tales of Game's titles, including Barkley. It was merely a correction and an expression of my disappointment. I suppose you could say that I was very disappointed. But it was in no shape, way, or form an attack.” He smiled briefly, and I knew I had not offended him.

“Lately, there's been much talk of the Microsoft 360 console; what's your opinion of the so-called Westernization of gaming as a whole?”

Jasper's eyes grew distant, as if remembering something from long ago. “I don't think that is a relevant question. Games have always been coming from the West. Have you ever heard of Fallout? I bet you didn't know it was homegrown right here in the States. Furthermore, I prefer to take a more neutral and less critical stance when it comes to this subject. A friendly reminder: Look at the gaming scene as a whole, so as to avoid gamecism (game racism). Thanks.” His correction was free of spite, but his face remained oddly wistful. He stood up and walked to the balcony. I saw his lips move as he counted the stars in the sky. It was getting late in Palo Santo, and the baying of dogs was replaced by the chirping of crickets. I pressed on.

“What's your opinion of "online gaming"? Wave of the future?”

He snorted, loudly. “Online gaming - in my humble opinion - is the wave of the past. And that's all there is to say about that.”

The words were harsh, and I decided to shift tactics a little “You mentioned Fallout earlier; opinions on the upcoming sequel?”

“I've seen pictures. There's an old gamer saying, don't judge a game by it's cover. Well it's the same with pictures. Don't judge a game by it's pictures.” He insisted that I properly quote him on this, with a “- gamesmasterjasper” at the end.

“Unreal creator Tom Sweeney said that PC gaming was dead.” I said, quoting an interview I had read recently. “Do you agree?”

Jasper lookeed at me, confused. “Do PCs still exist? Do games on the PC still exist? Can I boot up my computer?” He smiled. “That's what I thought.”

The night was creeping in and I decided to end the interview with the hardest question. “What console do YOU think wins this generation?”

Jasper paused. I could hear the evening's party guests beginning to arrive downstairs. Heads of state and celebrities would be mingling in a few minutes, but Jasper showed no sign of hurrying. Slowly, he began to speak. “Now that's an interesting philisophical question, my...gamer...friend.” My breath caught. He had known my secret...and yet did not bear me ill will. This was truly a great man. “I will be the first to admit that I am the proud owner of all three current generation consoles and I have been pondering this one for quite a while. I have come to the conclusion, D.B., my friend, that there is ultimately no winner of the console wars.” He paused. I could hear laughter downstairs. “Let me rephrase that, no matter which console wins or loses, the true winner is the gamer. You see, regardless of platform or console or what have you, the gamer is given the true joy of these consoles: games. When the gamer utilizes the console to reach that enjoyment, i.e. games, he is achieving the ultimate point of games: playing them! This means, both mathematically and philosophically, that games are the ultimate potential of consoles, and that the true winner”, he looked outside. A shooting star passed by, and took my breath away. “...is the gamer.”

My time in Palo Santo was at an end. I could not stay for the party, and Jasper understood. I shook his hand, a strong dry handshake. He seemed more distant than my first arrival at the island.

And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Jasper's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of his XBox controller. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.

Jasper believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... And one fine morning —

So we beat on, games against the alternating current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCpPp_dyCXo