If you’ve ever played any sort of video game that has a limited inventory, you’ll notice this strange phenomenon that happens when you buy a bigger bag.
For example, a character might start out with a backpack with four slots: just enough for food, a tool, and ammo or a spellbook or whatever it is the game requires a player to always have on hand.
I have noticed that once I’ve gone through the tutorial, the very first thing I have to do is buy a bigger bag. One open slot isn’t enough to carry any cool stuff I find while exploring. With only starting money, a six-slot bag will have to do until I’ve earned more coins. But since I’m going to need to gather something to sell, those extra slots fill up fast.
But it’s okay. After two or three rounds of running back and forth to the vendor, I can afford a twelve-slot bag.
Relief at last! I have plenty of space to play now because I’ve doubled my bag space!
Then, after I’ve gathered better supplies for the next leg of my journey, I realize that I only have one open slot again. I don’t even have any room for items to sell, and everything in my inventory is something that I need for the next task. I can’t sell those! I need those items to advance, or for a quest turn-in, or so I can try the crafting mechanic when I get to town.
No doubt about it. I’m going to need a bigger bag.
(Cue the shark music.)
I’m sure by now you realize where this is going. It seems like no matter how big of a bag I buy, no matter how many slots I have, I inevitably get to the point where I’m down to a slot or two. I can even buy a giant bag from the pay-to-play marketplace; it won’t matter. By the time I get back from the next adventure, that bag will be full again.
Kind of like real life, isn’t it?
It seems like no matter where I live, it takes no time at all before the entire place is filled up with all sorts of random stuff. A tenth of what’s in here is essential supplies. Another tenth is intentional, well-thought-out purchases.
As for the other eighty percent…
Look, I’ve got kids, okay? Kids need stuff, right? Computer stuff, school stuff, sports stuff, and all that stuff – yes, that sounds like a plausible excuse, right? Let’s blame the kids!
Okay, fine. It isn’t just the kids.
Before anyone gets the wrong idea about where this is going, there’s a difference between decorating your home with your personality and stuffing drawers so full that you haven’t seen the bottom of them in years.
There’s a difference between buying art pieces that mean something to you and you might want to pass down and a stack of “free” or “cheap” posters that take up closet space that you’ve kept because you might want to put one up eventually.
A few weeks ago, my mom moved out of our childhood home and in with one of my sisters. Those kids who still lived nearby had the fun of putting together the estate sale, and thankfully, it wasn’t me. Mad respect to the sisters who had to find homes for the four player pianos in the house!
Being far away, I mainly ended up with the last two boxes of Golden Age pulp fiction books. Many of them are falling apart to the point that only the cover art is salvageable, and the rest are only worth about three to five dollars each on eBay.
But you know what? It was just the spark I needed, because I too would like to move someday. After living in the same apartment for twenty years, downsizing this clutter is way overdue.
It didn’t take long for me to realize just what a rabbit hole I got myself into. After sorting just two boxes of books and a cabinet of Blu-rays that were sitting on the surface, it hit me like a sledgehammer. Photos, proper packing, bags and boards, shipping envelopes, shipping costs, paying for listings, waiting for something to sell, praying that nobody gives us a spiteful review so that then, and only then, my family and I might… just might… make a slight profit.
If my calculations are correct, I think I might make two dollars an hour for the effort… if I’m lucky. Even so, I would much rather do that than lug all of this stuff across the country if I ever decide to move again.
If I wasn’t already interested in digital collectibles as an alternative to physical collecting, this experience would have clinched it for me. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have a hundred one-dollar comics in my VeVe account than have to deal with a hundred one-dollar comics in real life I have to sell.
As for physicals, I think I’ll stick to collecting memories, along with a few intentional pieces that I won’t regret down the line. It doesn’t just help me, but it’ll help my kids when my time comes.
At the very least, I’ll make sure they don’t have to carry the weight of four player pianos.