The Gem of the Atlantic

Look to the world for your own interpretation, to find its beauty, and art in your own eyes. Mr. Hill gave us what might be my favorite assignment of all time. We look into the world as we see, games, music, people, buildings, and give our own interpretation of feelings or impressions of what they are, or might mean. I took advantage of this to reminisce of this feeling of awe and terror me and a friend once shared back in 2007. An Old friend, Nathan, and I, were to spend a few days together, as my parents would be out of town and I was not quite old enough yet to stay alive on my own for 3 days. But for one night, we ourselves would be alone for a few hours as Nathan's Parents went out for dinner with some family friends. Having no other plans for the time, he and I went to the sun room, which by the time of day was approaching dusk. As I lounged on the couch Nathan reached onto a shelf and plucked an Xbox game down, our entertainment for the night. It was one only his older brother had played before; BioShock. We slid the game disc into the Xbox's loading tray, grabbed some soda and chips, and sat down for what we imagined would be a loud, slam-bang action game. We beheld a completely different experience.
The year is 1960           Bioshock Opened with a plane, a man named Jack, holding an unopened gift from his parents. "They told me, Son, you're special. You were born to do great things. Y'know what? They were right." We hear him monologue to himself as he flips open his wallet to examine a family photo. The screen fades to black as an explosion screams from the television. Our controller rumbles, giving us a feel of the panic that a plane crash would. We hear women scream out for their children's hands, men yelling out to their families, and the splash of the plane. We regain Jack's vision underwater as he thrashes to resurface. Grunting and choking out air as he climbs closer. The planes propeller whirs by, nearly clipping our protagonists right arm off. Jack's head rises from the water gasping for air, wiping the water from his eyes Jacks head darts around, plane pieces strewn about the waters as oil bleed from the steel carcass and lit ablaze by electrical veins torn from the torso. Jack looks to the right, there, standing silently in solitude, a lighthouse in the middle of the Atlantic. Me and Nathan guide the shaken man up its steps and through the large, bronze doors that silently close behind us. Lights flicker on and a slow violin begins to play from a old time record player. We stumble down flights of staircases and into a bathysphere. The large glass viewing pane of the sphere closes behind Jack looks out as it descends down into the blue abyss. "10 Fathoms" A sign displays as bubbles slightly obscure it. A statue of a man holding the world is prominently displayed above a sign reading "18 Fathoms". A projector screen unravels infront of our view port and the image of a man is displayed "From the desk of Andrew Ryan!" Is written beneath him as a recording plays.
 "I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?
'No,' says the man in Washington, 'it belongs to the poor.'
'No,' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.'
'No,' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.'
I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... 

Rapture.

A city where the artist would not fear the censor,
where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality,
where the great would not be constrained by the small.
And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city, as well."

With the conclusion of his speech the projector screen retracted and showed us the city of which Ryan spoke of. Rapture.

An underwater city cast upon our screen as Nathan and I both let out a breath of amazement, yes, it was a game. But the mere presentation and power of Ryan's speech made it seem as though we ourselves were viewing Rapture through the bathysphere's glass. A squid darted by as we floated through the city's buildings. Neon signs advertised and displayed the many prominent locations of the submerged dystopia. Gliding further through the isles of sky(?)scrappers our bathysphere nears the end of its journey. Entering a building with a bright neon letters spelling out "Rapture Metro"  and with that. Our screen goes black to load the next area.

     To this day no scene from a movie, chapter of a book, nor television show captured the magic that was the opening of BioShock, nor has anything else ever sparked my imagination with so much intent to learn more of the oceans, building infrastructure, and ocean life. Heck, this game probably inspired me to take Marine Bio last year.