\\ I Found a White Dot //

Toward the end of Insomniac’s Spider-Man: Miles Morales, you visit a space-themed museum exhibition at the Oscorp Science Center. You’re there to fulfill some such objective or the other, but upon defeating what felt like 3292 grunt guys lining the exterior of the building and then solving the fiftieth electricity puzzle, Miles thinks back to the last time he was here, with his friend Phin.

He was here with his friend Phin—who later lost her brother to Simon Krieger, with Troy Baker really phoning in a performance here—because Miles and Phin were nerds. They were/are nerds who were there to see their award-winning science experiment be presented. But they are not allowed into the actual room where it is being shown off, because the room is at ticket capacity/because since 2007 video games are legislatively required to have players perform menial tasks where they walk around a pristinely-rendered, artisinally-crafted 3D space while searching for hovering white dots which catch the eye by visually contrasting with the screen real-estate so as to satisfactorily occupy their time relative to the amount of real-life dollars invested in the product so that said product is deemed worthy of the steadily declining amount of free time human beings have in a day in the modern post-post-post capitalist nightmare zone.

Once being told by the woman standing next to the elevator which leads up to the private exhibit of Miles and Phin’s destination that we would not be allowed in, I/Miles was briefed by Phin—who in the modern times is the game’s antagonist, because at some point stories all thought it would be better if antagonists were people who used to be the protagonist’s friend, thus introducing the notion that the two have history together which creates tension/friction—that we were to…shine a light at a sensor past a glass door so as to unlock it, which apparently is a thing that is a thing. But a light from the vantage point of Miles and Phin wouldn’t reach, so Phin proposes bouncing a light off of a reflective surface so as to accommodate their requirements.

So I went searching for white dots.

I found a white dot which led me to a folding metal structure capable of changing forms with the help of a tertiary device. The shimmering specularity enable by the PlayStation 5’s performance ray-tracing mode ensured me that my $30 (sale price) was more than well-spent. This white dot from 2007 was the future of gaming.

I found a white dot that led me to a solar mirror patch thing which could be used to redirect light from Phin’s cell phone flashlight to the sensor past the glass door, thus unlocking it. I took the patch and returned to the door to engage in the puzzle, which I was reminded the location of thanks to a convenient yellowish-green waypoint. It’s no white dot, quaintly small yet confidently affirming—but it’ll do.

As I mindlessly sifted through the possible permutations of shape alloy form and angle, trying each and every possible possibility one-by-one until I found the one which would trigger the light sensor and open the door, I wondered why this had to be the way to get in. Why couldn’t Miles and Phin work together to distract the woman in front of the elevator? Why couldn’t we work our science magic to short the fuse on the door? Why couldn’t we try convincing the woman to let us onto the elevator by bartering? Anything more logical/playful/creative than…whatever this is. But we couldn’t, because we can’t; no white dots to find.