Age Against the Machine - Getting Older Without Getting Old

Last weekend, a snowstorm dumped about a foot of snow on us. Naturally, it was the perfect time to stay off the roads, scroll TikTok, and check out the new Fortnite chapter while everyone else was out Christmas shopping and playing that seasonal game of “Am I in a lane?”

I have a confession: I love TikTok. I love the creativity, the questionable “life hacks,” the gym people, the positive affirmation people, the comedians, the animal sanctuaries — all of it.

All of it, that is, except creators whose entire personality is “my generation.”

Particularly, fellow Gen Xers who pop off about neglected childhoods and “tough as nails” rhetoric that is the exact opposite of what Gen X is 'supposed' to embody: unbothered self-reliance.

Our whole schtick was that we didn’t take anything too seriously, especially ourselves.

And, at the risk of losing my membership card, a lot of you are aging yourselves just by talking like every generation before us about "the way things used to be."

I keep seeing the stitched Gen X "roll call" videos, all about how we toughened up, got paddled in school, made the best movies/music/fashion, how we managed without smartphones and safe spaces, drank from the hose, and how the kids today "just don't get it".

(Like Harvey Dent said, you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.)

And no, this isn’t “I’m not like other moms, I’m a cool mom” energy. I’m not defending or dragging any generation. We all pass down something extremely useful and something extremely…not.

That’s just the circle of life, Simba.

But the moment you treat younger generations, or pop culture itself, like they’re beneath you…
The moment “new” automatically equals “bad”…
The moment you decide progress threatens your identity…
That’s when you’re old. I don’t care what the number is. You’re frickin' old.

(Yes, I’m aware my ellipses habit is a Gen X stereotype. I don't care.)

And I’m not exempt, either.

I’m 50. By my genetic math, I’ve got maybe 25–30ish years left before I shuffle off the mortal coil. I’ve had unexplained arm pain for years, my knees crackle on the stairs, and the world is louder now for whatever reason.

But thankfully, I haven’t hit the point where I dismiss something just because I didn’t grow up with it. That's what actually keeps you from crossing into “old” territory.

I’m aging, I just don’t feel old.

Except for when I rode the Gravitron last summer. That was humbling.

Don’t worry, this isn’t about to become a dissertation on generational sociology. I’m far more qualified to dissect MCU character arcs than predict the fate of humanity.

All I’m saying is: there’s a visible difference between getting older and being older.

Like, what still gets you out of bed in the morning?

For me, it's feeling productive, like I actually did something of value during the day I've been given. Also, nerding out over the latest Fortnite drop, Marvel “leak,” or whatever rumor TikTok swears is true this week.

I didn’t grow up as “a gamer kid.” I was just an '80s kid who did everything - Barbies, G.I. Joe, bikes, skates, video games, and yes, drank from the hose, since that's supposedly one of our defining traits.

At the same time, I devoured books like candy. I was introverted, curious, and always immersed in some world or another.

I still remember my first console: the Atari 2600, that wood-veneer block that always had dust in the grooves. I spent hours with Pole Position and Space Invaders, and far too long on E.T., a game so notoriously bad they buried the cartridges in the desert.

Fast forward to adulthood, and fun became something squeezed in between marriage, parenting, and work, if I had the energy (I didn't).

After my divorce, I eased back into light gaming: Guitar Hero with my daughter, COD after she went to bed. We had our MCU bonding era. It’s still our thing.

She grew up. I convinced myself I was “way too old” for gaming, anyway. I donated the console and went back to being responsible and boring.

Until Covid.

My husband and I were living in a cabin in the woods, my job came to a screeching halt, and I found myself reading and doing enormous jigsaw puzzles. (I. Love. Puzzles. Still have no idea why.)

Eventually, I realized I missed games, so the Balkan Storm, ever romantic, bought me a pawn-shop Xbox for Christmas. My daughter and I started gaming long-distance, even streaming, and eventually she talked me into playing Fortnite.

After much hesitation, I entered Chapter 2, Season 4 — the Marvel season.

How’s that for serendipitous?

She tried teaching me all the mechanics, but I just wanted to jump right into a game. "I learn by doing!" I popped off before (arrogantly) adding, "How hard can it be?"

Yeah.

I jumped straight into Stark Industries (naturally) and was immediately eliminated. Literally the first player out.

My daughter just shook her head.

But I learned, and we’ve been playing together ever since.

Eventually, I also learned that with every new Fortnite chapter, Epic forces you to evolve; whatever worked for you last season, you now have to learn new weapons, mechanics, and strategies.

You can’t survive the game if you refuse to adapt.

It’s a solid business model.
It’s also a pretty accurate life principle: get good or get cooked.

I still use that old Xbox. My daughter and I are streaming again; we’re agile enough not to embarrass ourselves, but nobody's asking us for tips, either.

But that’s not the point anyway. It gives us something to do together, and it keeps me engaged in the current conversation.

I love being in that space of seeing what's growing, what's dying, and what's making a comeback. Half the time it's weird, and sometimes it’s flat-out stupid, but at least it's never stagnant.

Next summer, I’ll be right in the middle of a pop-culture ecosystem at San Diego Comic-Con, surrounded by fans, creators, studio people, and the die-hards who camp out for Hall H as if it were a spiritual pilgrimage.

...which...it kind of is. And I'll be coming back with a full report.

Everyone makes the trek for the same reason: to see what’s next. Pop culture is the societal undercurrent we're all just...floating in.

That sounded way deeper than it was supposed to, by the way...

Every comment section, the minute a studio recasts an iconic role, or fiddles with the origin story, becomes a slap-fight between "how dare they!" and "finally!".

That push-and-pull is the heartbeat of pop culture.

Marvel, a cultural juggernaut built on reinvention, is the perfect example.

When Kevin Feige announced that the X-Men would be recast after Secret Wars, and that even legacy characters like Tony Stark and Steve Rogers might be recast, the internet did not disappoint.

And I do get it.  

I know that typcasting is usually an actor's worst nightmare, but damn it, some performances just set the standard.

I, for one, cannot imagine anyone other than the OG6 Avengers cast. I also don't want to picture anyone that isn't Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen, or Kelsey Grammar in their roles.

However, these stories have to be passed down to new generations, or they’ll die out completely.

And nobody wants that, do they?

Avengers: Doomsday has already attracted its share of pre-emptive judgment, with too many fans blasting the choices and dooming (no pun intended) the film before the changes have even had a chance to prove themselves.

I also recently read that the team behind Doomsday is pulling back on the CGI and returning to mostly practical effects.

I’m not mad about it.

Medium is always evolving, and innovation is just knowing what works and what gets buried in the desert.

So no, this is not me trying to be "young and cool" (Trust me, I've never been cool). I'm just trying to keep up and not stagnate.

This newest Fortnite season proves my point. It's in its Hollywood era, giving us Kill Bill and Back to the Future, with past seasons offering Sarah Connor, Ellen Ripley, Indiana Jones… basically the entire Blockbuster aisle from 1987.

And music from Metallica and Eminem to BLACKPINK and Tyler, the Creator.

That’s pop culture: nothing stays frozen in time, but nothing really disappears either. If there's a fountain of youth, it's simply staying curious.

If that makes me an elder-millennial-adjacent woman squinting at her Fortnite loadout and counting down to SDCC like it's the Super Bowl...

Well. There are worse things to be.

Heather Papovich is the voice behind Unfinished Business. She's seen some things. She'll tell you about them.