Warning: philosophical post.

Remember back in the day, when you were a little tyke, and all you wanted out of life was some sort of grand adventure? I remember. I wanted to be an army man, or a fireman, or one of those other mans. I created stories in my head about how I was an epic crime fighter or an intergalactic warrior hero dude.

I suspect that this kind of thing is true for the majority of people. I wouldn’t be surprised to find it’s a bit different for the females among us, the wiring being a bit different between the two sexes. But I believe the same principle will apply pretty much universally: we have a hunger for the fantastic, for something greater than what we have. It’s built into us, with us from birth, and even if it’s strangled later on down the road by cynicism or depression, it’s still there, waiting to be given fuel. It’s that desire that has propelled mankind’s greatest achievements, from landing on the moon (even if it was a scandal, it was an epic scandal) to winning the Super Bowl. To be part of something bigger than ourselves is a basic desire of human beings.

This is a big part of why we love stories. From books to movies to games, people love a good story, an epic, an adventure. Men tend more towards those stories that depict a conquering hero; women more towards those which depict happiness ever after.

Because of this, video games have taken off like a skyrocket. In just a few years, they’ve gone from the basement hobby of ubernerds to a multi-billion dollar industry. Games have gone from simple electronic distractions to the bearers of great tales. The reason for this, at least in part, is that games feed that hunger for adventure in a way that books and movies can’t. Watching a movie, you get to watch someone else experience something great, and depending on how well made the movie is, you might get to share in some of that greatness by osmosis. The same is largely true for books. But with games, you don’t have to watch someone else do great things — you get to do them. The fate of the human race isn’t on the shoulders of Harrison Ford or Christian Bale or Angelina Jolie — it’s on yours. And if you don’t climb that hill, conquer that foe, plant that flag, everything’s hopeless.

It’s the purest way that we’ve yet invented to give fuel to that burning desire for adventure. It’s why there have been people addicted to games in a way that people were never addicted to movies or books. In real life, perhaps those people aren’t well-liked, or perhaps they haven’t accomplished much — but in Tamriel, Azeroth, or in the bowels of a Halo ring, those same people are heroes, applauded by thousands and sought after by those needing help.

(Of course, there are those who play evil characters and are universally feared and loathed, but in practice this amounts to the same thing.)

So, people like stories. What’s the big deal?

The big deal is that stories shape our outlook on the world. Go back to those days as a kid. Why did you want to be an army man/fireman/cowboy? Because you’d heard stories about them, or watched stories about them, and the adventurous life they led. Seen through the eyes of a child, their adventure seemed pure and their grandeur complete. They were loved and admired, just like we wanted to be. And so, for a while, those expectations and desires shaped our lives.

Of course, then we grew up and lost a lot of that. The innocence of childhood slips away for better or for worse, and most of us stop wanting to be army men. But that doesn’t mean we stop wanting.

We still desire that greatness. Our definition of what exactly that means has certainly changed, and perhaps our ability to expect it has been dulled by the reality of the way the world works. But we still crave it.

And so video games come along, offering us the ability, for a short time, to be Gordon Freeman, Master Chief, or a Jedi Master. We dive into them, relishing them, basking in the status that we are given in that fictional world.

The problem of addiction to this is perhaps the most apparent, even if it is relatively rare. More subtle, however, is the effect it can have on real life.

Just as a well-done movie can shape the way we see the world (Who hasn’t jumped at shadows after seeing a horror movie? Or started seeing suspicious behavior in elected officials after watching a conspiracy film?), so can a well-made game. But the potential for persuasion is greater tenfold because the player is not passively taking the messages in — he or she is actively participating in them.

Like it or not, that affects us, more than most people are willing to admit. It is certainly possible to minimize this effect, to play games with your head screwed on straight, to be able to sit back and analyze the message of a game and judge it correctly. But even doing that, those messages, those expectations, can still seep into our brains and hide there, often so well and so deep we never really realize that they are there.

That’s the way things are. A game that is a showcase for masterful storytelling, like a Bioshock or a Half-Life 2, is an incredible tool for persuasion.

Now, I’m not saying that playing a few video games is going to send you off the deep end, or completely change your outlook on life, or change you fundamentally as a person, any more than smoking one cigarette will addict you to them for life. But it has been proven that what we immerse ourselves in affects who we are, in subtle ways.

So, will playing Grand Theft Auto turn you into a murderer or a car thief? Probably not. But might a constant diet of games like that which glorify violence and corruption desensitize you to that violence in real life? It’s pretty easy to see how that might be.

One example of this might be swearing. Say you’re a person who doesn’t swear, for whatever reason. Then let’s say you get a job someplace, and all your coworkers use language every time they open their mouths. At the same time, you’re playing games and watching movies with language in them. Over time, what’s probably going to happen? Chances are good you’ll start swearing, unless you’re actively working against that inevitable slide.

This is why it pays to be careful what we take in — what we watch, play, read, and listen to. That love of stories is an awesome thing, but if we’re not aware of what we’re feeding ourselves, those stories can change us in ways that we might not otherwise approve of.

So, bottom line — play with your brain turned on. Be watching for those messages in the games you play. Ask yourself what it is that the games creators are trying to say, or perhaps what their game says about them. Take every thought captive, as the Bible says. And avoid exposing yourself to the games that promote things that you don’t want to be. Cuz why spend your money and time on something that you don’t agree with? I find that to be ridiculous, and suggest that instead you play the games I recommend. Starting with Fallout 3 (ZOMGEPIX!!!). Unless you’re under 18. In that case play Homeworld.

Anyway, just a few thoughts that had been bouncing around in my brain. I imagine there will be quite a few people who disagree with me, or take issue with some part of what I’m saying … feel free to comment and throw buckets of cold logic on my parade. I’ll do my best to answer.

Jerod Jarvis is an independent gaming journalist and founder of Duality Games. He maintains gaming columns for The Washington Times Communities and for The Outpost. When not blogging madly about games, he freelances for the Spokesman-Review in his hometown of Spokane, Washington and attends school at Whitworth University. Check out his presence on Facebook and Twitter to stay up on Duality Games updates and the inside scoop on the gaming news you care about.