Hypnospace Outlaw
Breaking virtual shins in SESSION
Alright, so I’ve gone for a loose theme of space this month—but I never specified what kind of space. And there’s something about Hypno-space Outlaw that’s both comforting and deeply unsettling. It’s pleasant, because it recalls a simpler time of dial-up modems, constantly-engaged phone lines, and comedy AOL email notifications. But it’s also harrowing, because what feels like recent history is now a period piece for some people. The stuff on display here is further in the theoretical past than the setting of That ’70s Show was in the ’90s. Thankfully, the gentle detective work on offer here is a compelling distraction from the grinding wheel of time that will pulverize us all.
Last September, I made the ill-considered decision to get into skateboarding as an adult—and not to brag, but I reckon I’ve gotten rather good at it. But while I got in a good few weeks of tearing through town while the weather held up, a Scottish winter predictably binned my plans to spend every free minute busting out sick moves. So, in the meantime, I’ve started popping a few ollies around Session, one of the growing number of skate-’em-ups gunning for Skate’s long-absent throne.
Let’s be real for a moment. Session is rough. After a year and a half in Early Access, the game’s still very clearly not done, with rampant physics glitches, unfinished character models, and only the most barebones structure. It’s only this year that the game stopped hilariously ragdolling you at the smallest collision. But for all its jankiness, Session actually gives me the same sort of dopamine rush I get whenever I throw down a board at the local park.
See, while there are some loose challenges and missions to take on, Session largely wants you to find your own spots—to explore its facsimile of some iconic New York streets and skateparks and figure out how you wanna shred ’em. I spot a ramp popped in front of a trash heap with a long, gentle downwards incline leading up to it, and decide I’m gonna treflip over the garbage. It takes a good dozen or so tries—I veer off course, stumble over my own feet, and send the poor skater careening into the street after clipping a bin bag. But with enough persistence, I nail it and I feel incredible.
It’s a similar sensation to when I finally landed a 50-50 grind off the steps in town after spending an afternoon battling the trick a week prior, or finally landing my first ollie after months of trying.
Obviously, my digital skater can pull off more tricks than my wobbly, untrained legs, so the lines are more complex—and more dangerous. I have a bash at chaining a grind into a nose-stall at the edge of a five-storey building, an act that breaks my skater’s neck ten times over. Twenty minutes later, I land it. Didn’t even have to call an ambulance.
NOLLIE
Between spots, I get to hone my tricks with every passing curb or bench. Like Skate, tricks are a little more difficult to do than slamming a gamepad button, as the analogue sticks are tied to your front and back feet. It’s fiddly at first, but much like how I’ve built muscle memory for popping an ollie, I’m slowly beginning to internalize how to wrangle the sticks to form a shuvit, kickflip, or noseslide. Cruising around New York, I can see a future where I too can effortlessly flip and slide down Edinburgh’s streets.
Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3 pushed me to pick up a board for the first time. Now, over 20 years later, Session is motivating me to become a better skater. I’m down with that.
MY DIGITAL SKATER CAN PULL OFF MORE TRICKS THAN MY WOBBLY, UNTRAINED LEGS