Fans of emulated video games are surely familiar with the concept of save states. Save states allow players to save whenever they want, allowing gamers to avoid a long run up to a boss battle, or practice a particular jump over and over again. Without save states, many retro gamers wouldn’t have the patience necessary to tackle titles like Ninja Gaiden, Super Ghouls and Ghosts, and Bear in the Big Blue House on the Gameboy. Even though save states are wonderful on emulators, they are woefully lacking in my marriage.
If my marriage had save states, then I could try my 30th anniversary with my lovely husband Todd over and over again until I got it exactly right. I would load up the save state for August 27, and I would decide to buy pizza instead of a large bag of onion-flavored Takis. Hell, there are plenty of different things I could have bought Todd at 7-Eleven. In fact, I could keep loading the save state until I found his preferred blend of Chex Mix and microwave burritos. If I found the correct combination of items, I’m sure that I could’ve brought our marriage to the “good” ending.
If our relationship had save states, then I could have asked Todd to pull out when we accidentally conceived my fat son Micah. By all definitions of the word, Micah is and was a mistake. Since he’s been born, I’ve been struggling to gather the proper resources that our family needs. Instead of grinding for a higher rank, I’ve been forced to gather up enough gold to buy food for Micah’s gaping maw. While I’m obliged to love him now, I wouldn’t be in this predicament if I had made a save state right before the airing of The Price Is Right on August 12, 2004. I would simply load up that state and force Todd to wear a condom, or put on Jeopardy, because there’s no way a child conceived to Jeopardy would be this much of a disappointment.
If I had save states in my life, I could easily abuse RNG to win the lottery and never marry Todd in the first place! Sure, I love Todd, but I mostly love his job’s health insurance. If I could go back to 2002, I could draw random lottery numbers over and over again until they proc a mega millions jackpot. In that case, I would have no dysfunctional marriage, no hungry child, only gobs and gobs of cash.
[Update: Todd and my fat son Micah read this article after it was released, and Todd has filed for divorce—something that would have never happened if I had access to save states.]