Saying “not to mention” immediately followed by mentioning the thing one is “not mentioning” is silly.
Archive for May, 2010
pioner in Old English is “a foot soldier who marches in advance of the army to dig trenches and clear the way; a digger or miner
pioneer in modern English is “one who ventures into unknown or unclaimed territory to settle” but the analogy with the old meaning is precise – European pioneers in America for example were “clearing the way” for the “army” of European expansionists.
Adam gazed into the eyes of Big Rod, and Big Rod gazed into him. Big Rod is a full 15 inches now, his Flaming Longsword has just overcome the resistance of the Ice Queen to his will. He left her melted and watery and cream-filled and proceeded to his final task, saving the Universe from extinction by inseminating all the ladies in outer space.
Everything can easily become meaningless in the face of global extinction. Once we give up, once we enter the Brave New World of taking whatever action provides us with the most consolation on the way to the world’s death, we contribute to that death. The birth of this Brave New World culture was European expansion, colonization, over five centuries ago, with the inspiration found in the Roman Empire. We have utterly failed to understand this culture of willed extinction and therefore have been forced to perpetuate it. Understanding it, however, is only the first step. Many dragons will need to be slain and a new culture and way of life created. There will be many would-be heroes who become charred corpses before the world either becomes devastated or is saved.
We begin with this choice. Should we save the world? Can we?
The Dragon roared and breathed pure fire and the village was torn apart. This village had not cowered in fear and terror like the others, had hired soldiers to attempt to slay him. They were no longer worthy of existence.
The Dragon determines who lives and who dies. While there are dragons, the only humans allowed to live are cowards. Would-be heroes are just so many charred corpses, martyrs.
Parents send their young women to The Dragon for his pleasure. Villages send food and gold.
After a while, this is treated as natural, normal, and the people are no longer even aware of their own terror. Tradition demands payment to The Dragon, The Man, anyone who opposes this, far from being a hero, is a traitor, betraying society itself.
The Hero hunched, bowed under the weight of his self-aware inhumanity, ready to use his God-given powers one last time. The immortal “hero”, having acquired so many skills and so much equipment during his journey, after 11 of his own deaths, finally killed The Dragon. The villagers in the Kingdom were overjoyed, at least according to the way God programmed them, while The Hero stood rigid, brittle, a final bitter smile fading away.
The Man hates sexism in games. He is politically correct and his people know what he wants from them. So in the midst of medieval worlds of violence and insecurity the player’s character, if the player chooses to play a female, has all the privileges of a male. Reviewers never comment on this. It’s what The Man wants and that is obviously unworthy of critique.
The Man wants violence and killing. He wants good and evil, although he pretends otherwise. He wants war, strife, conflict, terror. He gets what he wants, always. Whenever he doesn’t get what he wants developers don’t get his money. With 80% of mainstream games featuring killing as the primary focus of gameplay, a large majority of capital wants the same thing. But at least women can participate equally with men in these genocides, that’s what’s important. Like the push for “racial equality” in the United States. Blacks fought, under the supposedly wise leadership of Martin Luther King Jr., to become integrated into American society. They are integrating themselves into a corrupt imperial society, the worst civilization in human history. So these previous chattel slaves are becoming global dominators, including domination of Africa. Is this good? Are Africans dying of capitalist starvation supposed to be consoled when the CEO of a corporation killing them is black? Isn’t what’s important for those Africans to live free, happy, healthy lives?
The Man tore through the latest meeting report, spewing and steaming at the insufficient profit of one of the sectors. He strode out of the office and hovered over a lackey, demanding accountability for this travesty of insufficient tribute. Err, profit. Singed, the lackey scurried away to do the master’s bidding.
The Man brought out his ballpoint pen. This is the part he loves, where he bestows on his people his money, in exchange for them producing another world he sells for his own profit. He owns them, and one day, God willing, he will own them all.
The Man loves India and Eastern Europe, where cheap slaves are cheaply educated. Hopefully more of the world aspires to these heights and becomes available to be hired for the sake of him and his brethren.
Guitar Hero is a beautiful game. Drum kits sold separately. Four sequels, one right after another. Microphones, second guitars, the works, all add-ons at tremendous profit margin. Guitar Hero expresses The Man’s dream of convergence, the merger of traditional with digital reality with all of the real benefit going to him.
The Man loves the profit margin of women. So many young beautiful ones so willing to spread their legs for him, while at the same time he maintains the emotional and public relations value of a commitment to his trophy wife. Truly earth is paradise.
God left his corner office and went out for sushi. Gaming had never been more popular and his services were in high demand. Society told him he was good and valuable and there’s no need to question that. God’s grand dream is for his worlds to become the template for the real world – for digital reality to be translated into traditional reality. He would save the world., but for now he would make some good money and enjoy the good life, which would end all too soon.
Sushi is a work of art – colorful and expensive. It goes down easy, never filling, leaving one hungry for more. God looked at the paradise around him, palm trees lining the streets. The people were all clad in blue jeans, the symbol of hard work, long since passed to hard irony and self-delusion in the decadent pleasure palace which gave God his existence.
California is wonderful. The roads are long and open, the people dazed and empty, vessels to be filled with the wonders of God’s worlds and so many others. U-turns are legal here – it doesn’t matter which direction one goes as long as one doesn’t slow down.
God thought about the movie Paranormal Activity and the obliviousness of the main characters, who had only to separate from each other to eliminate their insecurity and therefore her demon. These people always forged ahead, Pioneers Ho!, never dealing with reality amidst their fantasies of blissful union together.
God smiled at his creation. “God” is the nickname given to the lead programmer of the game Adam is playing. He creates worlds, each more spectacular than the last. He eclipses God, who pathetically is satisfied with just the one world, and such a sad one at that. In “God’s” worlds all is lush, all are nubile and strong, there is no disease and death is only to monsters who deserve their fate. There is no crime, no suffering, no toil, and always a hero to help with tasks the townspeople can’t do themselves. Yet terror is always present, of what will happen without the hero there to save the world.
God thought about The Sims 3, a game he had not created but much admired. All is bright and cheerful, even the fights. There are no doctors, no injuries. Women’s breasts never sag, no matter their age. There are a few criminals, none of whom impact the upwardly mobile nature of the entire society. One can name a solar body after themselves, have a friendship in minutes, find a $100 rock, do everything difficult or impossible to do in real life. This game is the culmination of the vision of Disney and Barrie mixed with a slice of realism.
God’s creations never need to rest, eat, or defecate. They never need sleep, friendship, or love. All they need is a quest, a mission, a goal, which the player ceaselessly helps them accomplish. They can spend the entire game running, fighting, killing. Pure action, pure energy.
God creates in his idealized image. This goal-driven creature, a mere fraction of a human being is what represents masculinity to God – a man always active, always striving. Characters in video games never think, never reflect, contemplate, consider, since that is deemed weak and a waste of time. Conan the Barbarian agrees.
Adam sat alone, staring into the long night. He never could stand the terror of that night for long, always returning to zen union or Lilith fantasies. Tonight was no exception, and he smiled in bitter pleasure at his weakness, full of his own terrible extinction. Adam wishes that he and the rest of humanity would die off. Maybe an asteroid would do the job as happened to the dinosaurs. Global warming will take a while. His hope in nuclear holocaust now seems unlikely.
Adam hated his parents and their inadequacies. If only he could stomp on them like he did the ants during his childhood.
When would humanity learn? When would their smiles of ignorance turn to grimaces of knowledge? Adam would have to save them all.
Since the world is lost there are no more men in the world. What Adam is fighting to be is the first digital man, the first agent of tremendous power and authority in the manufactured reality which is replacing the dying world. Eden is a kingdom, Adam its perpetual king, from whom all life descends. Adam sensed in himself this kingly nature and the promise it held for digital paradise’s role in saving the world.
Doom is the greatest game ever made, Adam realized. Nothing better captured the reality of Fukuyama’s “End of History” world, a world dominated by the global capitalist empire headquartered in Washington D.C. Doom was a journey through biological, wet, messy hell, blood spurting, dark heavy breathing, much pain. Descent followed soon after, the high tech version. Then Blizzard made their mark, and gaming became Disneyfied, seductive and irresponsible, under a cover of “ease of use” and “inclusive”. Disney’s style of color saturation was mimicked to make World of Warcraft.
Robotron 2084 was a survival horror game long before the term was invented. It was only a matter of time before you died – there were none of the reload functions which prevent death. That marks the difference between Arcade philosophy and Home-user philosophy – arcades were all about ending the game as quickly as possible while home games are about extending the game to the greatest possible length, derived from the different financial models for the two industries. It’s always a matter of maximizing profit in a capitalist world.
Pinball machines were perfect musical accompaniments to the garish neon lights of the 1970s. They sounded the right note of sensual and Zen decadence that would define the video game age. So Mr. Leary’s Zombie philosophy of “turn on, tune in, drop out” was embraced, with the necessary result that the 30,000 deaths per day directly caused by the capitalist machine were not prevented, as well as the other problems of the world shunted aside with dreams of glory enabled by digital vampirism.
Such dreams! Role-playing games feature lush worlds of meaningful violence, camaraderie, heroism, and ever growing power – resulting in eventual godhood. First-person shooters evoke the power to kill and kill again, enemies falling away and instantly forgotten. Strategy games are based on war – leading your troops to victory, your empire to world domination. Adventure games allow exploration of fascinating worlds much more worthwhile than the real one.
All of this every gamer knows. It’s never a matter of education – that’s a ruse designed to make educators feel good about their irrelevancy – “fighting the good fight”. It’s a matter of choosing whether or not to oppose the global overlords and their system of world domination – whether to oppose neoliberalism, free market fundamentalism, totalitarianism, industrialization, civilization. The excuse most “decent” people give for not undertaking this war is “feeding the family”, a major reason why revolutionaries tend not to have families.
The serpent slithered into the vacant civic community. Everyone was gone now, at home amusing themselves all the while proclaiming themselves Christian. What scheme could the serpent concoct to save the world from these people? His last one, Neoliberalism/Neoconservatism, turned out badly. He sought to so degrade the world, so degrade the Global Capitalist Empire, that the people would finally become enraged and undertake the socialist revolution. Was it stubbornness that kept them from doing so? Apathy? Wisdom? Despair? At least the final and most desperate attempt, the George W. Bush presidency, provided much amusement. Neoliberalism will continue, but the heart is no longer beating – it’s just a machine now.
The serpent loved the Japanese. They embraced his scheme with zeal, unlike the morose and listless Americans. They never quite understood it though, so there was never hope of a revolution there.
Without the near genocide in Vietnam and the integration of China into the Global Empire there was no scheme – the serpent is so thankful to the Chinese Elite for their support – the riches bestowed on them was a very fair deal.
Brian Koontz slithered down from the trees, belly joyously caressing the earth. Into Adam’s house and up golden stairs he climbed.
“I have something to tell you, warrior”.
Adam smiled and held out his hand, “I can handle anything”.
“Civilization has always been corrupt. You know that. You are a product of civilization with all of its weaknesses. You believe that warriors are the bravest of all people, not the most cowardly.
Adam: “The most cowardly! You are a fool”.
Brian: “Icarus did not fly too close to the sun out of pride or joy in the heights, but out of a death urge. To kill others is to kill oneself”.
Brian: “To go to the battlefield and know that you will return either a hero or a corpse, while those left behind are doomed to mediocre status, does that require bravery?”
Adam: “What you say is blasphemous”.
Brian: “In this world the truth is always blasphemous. We live a shattered life, picking up valued shards of the fallen God and trying to fuse them with preferred truths. The results are often terrible.”
Adam: “I’m not interested in what you’re saying”.
Brian: “No, I suppose not. Nor will be most others. Before I go, one more thing. The principle of inverted truth which calls cowards brave applies generally in society. It’s the ideal method of recruitment. Calling sterile porn stars “studs” or high powered rifle deer hunters “manly” directly contradicts the truth, alleviating the terror of undertaking those activities. Thus warriors are “brave”, and will likely continue to be as long as our “wonderful” rulers need to continue to recruit suckers for their disgusting conquests”.
Adam: “Are you finished?”
Brian: “For now. Truth has a way of returning, however”.
Adam: “I envision a world where there is no truth”.
Brian wrote, this time to the reader:
The integration of Christianity with the Roman Empire was most fortunate for the Empire, extending it long past its due date. Ordained by God, this new Holy Roman Empire and its Western successor could do whatever it pleased with no remorse. Existentialism as a replacement for Christianity does exactly the same thing – the point is to perpetuate the myth that Western civilization has a conscience, just as the French Revolution perpetuates the myth that the West is democratic and free. It was precisely when the West was becoming totalitarian, following the colonization of the world by the West, that the French Revolution came in to offer a myth which would serve as a false historical narrative.
It’s an easy prediction that when Existentialism falls something will take its place, serving the same purpose. The elite are currently weighing the pros and cons of a “New Humanism” guided in part by Orwell and Chomsky. Existentialism will only fall after it’s replacement is ready to take over.
Love filled Adam one day, hate the next. Not “split personalities” – two sides of the same coin. There is so much to love in humans, and so much to hate.
In an age of rule by giant multinational corporations individuals have no political power. Yet what did American culture do in the aftermath of the planned failure of the 1960s? – infantilize and render naïve and “good” successive generations – social engineering on the level of the individual – rather than attack the corporate power structure. The results have been and continue to be horrific. It’s grossly unfair to blame the American elite for the neoliberal/neoconservative culture – the entire middle class/ruling class power structure was on the same page, with only the poor putting up any resistance. The problem in America is the same as the problem in all imperial societies – even the poorest American is middle class, globally. There is no impetus for change in imperial societies since the true victims are never part of the society.
“Tales from the Darkside of Dreamscape Living” – Adam set aside the rare book and tuned into his online game, World of Warcraft. His Level 85 Dwarf Warrior will soon lead his group of 25 elite guildsmen into Grim Batol to kill the infamous Deathwing and gain great treasure. They do this every week and will do it until the next part of the game is released in 2012. Each expansion of the game nullifies the point of going through the current top dungeons. The Grind of endless treasure attainment and dungeon runs is the financial model for this type of game.
Many top players enjoy preening and primping more than anything else. They stand in the main cities, bedecked in their top gear, strutting about. Newer players behold what marvelous adornment awaits them when they too have fully wasted their lives.
Adam sneered at these posers. They should be more industrious – they could be gathering valuable resources for their guilds.
After checking to make sure none of his players were in that throng Adam logged onto http://www.wowjutsu.com to check his guild’s U.S. ranking – damn, still 3rd. His server didn’t have the top talent of some.
Adam awoke from another night of dreamless sleep. Dreams are irrelevant – he’s glad to not have to deal with them. What is not irrelevant is his progression in this game. The Hero is Level 20 – proceeding toward the endgame and the Dragon. Adam is torn between the desire to conquer the game and prolonging it – he knows the depression that always follows the completion of a game, replaced only by hope and anticipation when a new game comes along.
Adam has friends of course – online friends. He’s in a large guild in an online game. He has many friends on Facebook and MySpace and Twitter.
Sometimes he goes to clubs where “friends” socialize without being able to see or hear each other – lost in a tumult of anonymous bodies doused in happy juice.
So many friends! How pathetic that people used to have few friends and have to say meaningful things to them, have to deal with their lives and problems. How quaint.
Welcome to the Shadow World. Modern America has become a carnival parody of true reality – inverted, misshapen, awash in color and devoid of substance.
For Adam and so many others this is all part of reaching heaven. Dante helped corrupt the West by seducing it into believing that the way to reach heaven is through the deepest pit of hell. The West has been questing for that deepest pit ever since – Dante and imperialism are one and the same concept – where would global capitalism be today without him?
This is not to say that one man ever has any great effect. The emergent capitalist class promoted Dante for their purposes – he’s a tool in a machine.
Adam is going to save the world. Games are training him for real world excellence. Every conquered game is another notch in his belt, bringing him closer to the superman state of achievement which he will then transfer to the disaster of the real outside his bubble.
Adam looks with scorn and derision upon the world – regular petty people with their wasted lives. The world is dying all around them and they neither know nor care – most contribute to the calamity. He will save the world from these scum.
Real women disgust Adam – sometimes he believes that they have caused the world to decay. Lilith on the other hand is amazing – flawless in a way only a digital creation can be. She never ages, can be turned on or off at will, smiles at Adam and desires him. Lilith will become an android soon – for now she is a computer simulation.
Adam’s parents are lost in despair, anguish, and anxiety. They communicate through irrational psychic means rather than rational verbal ones. They blame themselves for the failure of revolution in the 1960s and for purposes of self-torment embrace even more fully the decadent materialistic lifestyle they claimed to oppose when they were young.
They claimed to be ignorant then – as if America had not been an imperial project from the very beginning – the final expansive move in the European Empire. They claimed to be shocked at the police crackdown of and brutality against the demonstrators of the 1960s. These claims serve as justification for their self-delusion. Their decadence, you see, isn’t their fault – it’s the simple result of emotional trauma derived from their disillusionment.
And so Adam will never be disillusioned. Certainly not in school, where disinformation passes for knowledge. Not at home, where all truth is translated into trauma, with the only solution as escape – into sex, or video games, or whatever other addiction can be rendered perpetual.
Adam knows that there is no hope. Blanket upon blanket of terror and deception cover all light, goodness, and truth. Remove a blanket and be called a traitor, fallen upon and torn to pieces. One might as well enjoy the imperial good life while one can, or vehemently protest against the empire while doing nothing useful against it, if one’s conscience is so unfortunate as to require such.
The Hero is Adam’s sword of justice, if not in this world at least in the next best thing.
Nietzsche and Kafka are celebrated by the Western Elite for their departure from their world into an inner spiritual world. Well aware of the terrible social crimes they were committing, both could only justify themselves with a pretense that they were saving the world – a pretense the totalitarian Western empire was only too happy to take seriously – a populace turning away from the world is so much easier to control – Existentialism is the religion that replaces God.
Adam is the spiritual successor to such “great men” – men of such tremendous morality that they are annihilating the world.
Adam looked away from the game for a moment, a blank look on his face. Everything in his room was left right there when it became useless. Adam’s pride in his Zen focus made him happy that his room and himself radiated a stench. That didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Adam thought of his younger days, when he terrorized his brother just as his parents terrorized him. Why wouldn’t Joe just do what he said?
The world doesn’t appreciate him, doesn’t love him, and the feeling is mutual. Why spend time there? It’s a wasteland and a waste.
Goethe’s Faust brings us Adam’s worldview, substituting manufactured worlds for Faust’s version of the ideal world:
Faust (to the Devil):
Never to give up striving with all my energy is what I promise.
I aimed too high.
I’m only fit to be with the likes of you.
The great Spirit rejects me,
Nature shuts her gates against me,
the thread of thought is snapped, and for ages now
I’ve loathed the blight of knowledge.
Let us satisfy our passions in the throws of sensuality.
Surround me with your wonders
and I’ll never ask to know what’s behind them.
Let us plunge ourselves into the roar of time,
the maelstrom of chance,
hit or miss,
pain or pleasure,
however it comes,
There’s no other way.
Do as you please.
Every delight is yours for the taking,
every pleasure yours to be snatched at will.
And may they agree with you.
Just be certain of one thing:
Take what you want!
Don’t you hear?
Pleasure means nothing to me.
I dedicate myself herewith
to the frenzy of dissipation,
to joy that is pain, and pain joy,
to adoring hatred, and hatred that is love,
to torments that refresh, and refreshing exhaustion.
My soul healed of the lust for knowledge,
I lay myself open to the world’s pain and suffering.
In my innermost self
I will experience all that humankind experiences,
the heights and the depths,
the sorrows and delights,
and doing so expand myself to encompass
all of humanity, and, in the end,
shatter like a ship in a storm.
And so we find Adam pulling out his penis in the bathroom. He serves its need, a need he wishes he didn’t have. Adam prefers to have no body – nothing to feed, to rest, to hassle him with its weaknesses. His consciousness one with the worlds he buys for $50 each.
Lost in such wonderful dreams, he is enraged by his mother calling him for dinner. He tames his rage with a polite sneer and descends to the kitchen, where the meal goes quickly, uneventfully, and without reality. Then a climb upward where the real world awaits.
What a world! Lush plains, thick forests, undulating grass. None of that fills the dull grayness outside his window. All of the worlds Adam inhabits, no matter how violent, are far better than this one.
Conan the Barbarian taught us that justice is only found at the end of a blade – wielded by a simple brutal man. Games follow this junction of brutal morality faithfully. Adam is all about control. He’s an elite gamer. His mouse is precise, his timing flawless. Zen is his philosophy, not for life of course but for gaming. In every game Adam plays he’s the center of the universe. He controls the plot, who lives or dies. He controls time itself.
Adam’s fingers twitched and another minotaur died. THIS is power – not playing the corporate ladder game, climbing over human bodies – this is moral power – this is how to truly prove one’s worth.
Adam’s body is locked in Zen immobility except for his hand and eyes and mind – these scour the land for more victims to feed the burgeoning power of the Hero. Their deaths are his glory – enough glory and the game ends and a new one begins.
Adam was playing a game. He liked it. It was fun. His character gained more and more power, killed more and more monsters. Power and morality were one at the end of his always-sharp blade.
Adam has played other games of course – games are his life. Most games feature him and his arsenal of weapons committing genocide, usually on the pretext that the victims are monsters or otherwise deserving of their fate. 80% of video games reviewed by the major reviewers feature killing, almost always mass killing, as the primary gameplay motive. Of this Adam neither knows nor cares. Killing and the feeling of power associated with it is fun, and besides, it’s only a game, so what’s the harm? Digital bloodbath after digital bloodbath ensues, cleaned up instantly with the start of the next one. The “eternal recurrence” of genocide.
The bloodbath of the moment was halfway done. Greatness lay ahead, what the game had been building to from the very first moment. Adam’s greatness.
Adam ate a bite of pizza. Food was there to keep him going – fuel for continuation, the next victory. When his days of glory were over he was over. So pizza, mountain dew, coffee, energy drinks, chips, fuel for the short-term high and eventual terminal crash.
Adam knows nothing of history. History is irrelevant to his future. He doesn’t know that the ruling morality of masculine domination and conquest ended in the late 18th century with the decline of European expansion in the world. A new totalitarian morality emerged. The empire needed to be maintained by enslaving the enemy within – the Western populace. This populace was fitted into roles, partitioned, as bureaucracies emerged. They were desexualized, disinformed, ritualized, raped of their religion and denied their dignity as they were encouraged to wallow in debauchery. This was the Age of Consumerism, the Age of Distraction, of Plastic morphing ambiguity. As saviors the rulers executed the Terror State, the Security State, ostensibly to protect the people from themselves. In reality, to protect themselves and their crimes from the people.
And so we find Adam, who fancies himself a pioneer of a brave new manufactured world an utter pathetic slave, dead and weeping for the past and present crimes of the very empire he so devoutly serves by abandoning the real world.
Big Rod came across the Hero doing what he does, and blushed in shame. He silently and uncomfortably waited for the cries of terror of the Hero’s victim to gurgle away, and the Hero’s own cries of exalted triumph to abruptly end. Beaten down by the reality all around him, Big Rod slumped toward the Hero as if exhausted. The blood-soaked Hero said with concern for the plight of this civilized person:
“Are you okay?”
Big Rod responded with one of his infinite looks of sadness:
“Are you okay?”
The Hero started, startled. He had never felt better! He was stronger than ever! Surely much too strong for this pathetic dumpy cretin before him, uppity creature who dares ask him if HE is ok! Perhaps, given the question, this creature is in fact a monster. There are so many monsters, what’s one more?
“I’m fine”, the hero stated clearly and distinctly, with menace.
Big Rod sighed: “Look. I’m on your side. I’ll tell you about your situation here.”
“You’re the main character in a video game. You’re being played by someone we’ll never have any contact with. He directs your actions. This is a descent without hope of salvation – the player gains the glory, not you. You’re a tool, a drug for his self-satisfaction in life, his distraction away from and removal from his world.”
Hero: What evil! How can they do such a thing?
BR: They are decimated human beings, who hold their world to have no value, who seek the glories of old in their domination of manufactured worlds, alternate realities.
Many of them do this out of a sense of morality – by leaving their world they can no longer dominate it, destroy it – their evil can then be contained in a place where it can do no harm – manufactured worlds.
There are two problems – by leaving the world they abandon their ability to protect it, love it. And the more they invest in these new worlds, the more their domination of them likewise destroys their souls. These humans jump from world to world, in perpetual agony at their knowledge of their own domination, under a pretext of exploration, of the “next best thing” in digital paradise.
Hero: Then what of me? What happens to me?
BR: Your world is purely contingent on the whims of the player. You exist as long as he cares you to. You exist as long as you can provide him with entertainment and glory. When the player decides it’s “game over”, you die.
Hero: What if I refuse his commands?
BR: You very well know you cannot – you are wholly possessed by him. This conversation we are having is only possible because this world has been modified to allow you self-knowledge.
Hero: Self-knowledge! What is the point of that while I live my life in chains?
BR: Chains work both ways – he is tormented by his life and by his desire to dominate artificial worlds. You will get your freedom when he gets his.
Hero: His freedom? How is he enslaved?
BR: For centuries his society has oppressed and enslaved the world – such is the Roman legacy fueled by capitalist centralization of power. Now he takes revenge upon himself for what he is, by leaving a world where he can do nothing but dominate.
Hero: And enter a fake world where he does nothing but dominate?
BR: All he knows is domination and subjugation. The best he can do is chain himself to an irrelevant world – be a Bubble Boy.
BR: The solution will come when he leaves the manufactured worlds and enters the person he wants to be – no one knows when that will happen.
Hero: So I’m doomed?
BR: You are doomed. You will carry out your meaningless existence as your master carries out his.
Hero: Goodbye, then.
Big Rod considers the economy of role-playing video games:
Richard Garriott (derived from Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson) taught us that stealing is wrong. Stealing is defined as taking material possessions from civilized sources. Looting, on the other hand, is greatly encouraged. Looting is defined as taking material possessions from non-civilized sources, usually the corpses of enemies or monsters. This looting allows one to become more powerful, kill more powerful enemies, and loot even better equipment.
This is always an individual project – the people of the world are viewed as useless cowards or worse while the hero or band of heroes must ignore them or exploit them while saving the world for them. Monsters are worthy only of death, the people only of derision – such is the view of game publishers and their developer lackeys. The concept that the player should not be the center of the universe but rather should organize the people so that they can kill the dragon or the player should participate in such an organization is not part of gaming, due to the supposed belief of game publishers that gamers are vain monsters who demand digital glory.
Big Rod is as busy breeding as The Hero is killing. Every desperate fuck could be the world’s last. Big Rod hears only praises from women, never their protests or screams. He’s wonderful and whenever he’s not he does what the world requires him to do.
The first dehumanized statement of being: “I think, therefore I am”. Replace “think” with “fuck” and “kill” and those other subhumans, Big Rod and The Hero, come into focus.
We are living in the Age of the Insufficient. Humanity in all it’s wonderful richness and complexity is said to be a luxury we cannot afford. We must become simple, brutal, sacrificial, Goethe and Nietzsche and Kafka. We must lose ourselves to gain the power to save the world, according to them. The Western elite fully agrees.
Big Rod had the consolation of talking to himself.
“Video games predominately feature civilized peoples bringing order to the world by acting as judge, jury, and executioner toward hundreds or thousands of living creatures, either implacable foes or more commonly, hideous or malevolent monsters. It is a cleansing, a structuring, a raising civilization on high and a demonization of everything outside that civilization. It’s not just an us vs. them, it’s a completely extroverted rage against the other, presupposing without any examination the righteousness of the civilization one kills for.”
Big Rod and his tool of ultimate procreation would save the world. He stroked it, feeling it’s power, it’s hardness gliding back and forth through the air. For every corpse The Hero and other monsters produced Big Rod produces a life. Women are noble – but only as receptacles for his seed.
Big Rod finished up inside a farmer’s daughter. Feeling self-satisfied, he rose up and left.
He had graduated to humans from rabbits and other beasts at Level 6. The power of evolution is so wonderful – such grand beings we are becoming.
Having evolved slightly further, his ever-lengthening cock paralleling The Hero’s ever-burgeoning killing ability, Big Rod sought out a woman with slightly clearer skin, slightly firmer tits.
Oh what our culture teaches us. It’s about experience – we get better at killing by killing and better at fucking by fucking. As we get more loot and better “equipment” we can kill (perhaps in a business sense) wealthier and smarter foes, fuck younger and more beautiful women.
Big Rod is an avid student, and he applies the sexual capitalist ethos, making his teachers so proud. Boys will be boys – go get ‘em tiger!
The Hero wished he could wash his hands in the blood of his latest victim. Anything to feel closer – to have some greater connection to his life. He wished he could stop and watch the bandit as he went about his daily life. He wished he could run in the field, smell the new grass, feel the wind. As he killed the bandit he looked into his eyes, seeing the terror, loss, and infinite sadness as he was torn from the world he loved. The Hero’s own eyes were blank and lifeless, as his creators wish and he must fulfill.
Games teach us that saving the world is all about killing. It’s never about building and then implementing democratic political organizations. It’s never about bringing corporations to justice or changing their structure. Nobody has played a game like that because noone has made one.
Game developers tell us that they are making games as adrenaline rushes, to give us things to fear and the tools to make the fear go away. Their ideal game is the ultimate bungee jump, with guns in both hands blazing away.
In any other industry, even Hollywood which holds some standards, these people would be ridiculed and marginalized. But in gaming, the inmates are running the asylum.
The Hero saw a beautiful woman, and couldn’t even smile at her. He isn’t repressed – that’s a concept invented by monsters otherwise known as psychologists. He is externally controlled – he’s had control of his own life seized from him and no longer has the will to lead “his own” life as there is no “him” in said life. It’s not a failure of The Hero – it’s an aspect of imperial society in the age of totalitarianism. Individuals are controlled by the ruling class and rendered powerless.
Psychologists want us to be “well adjusted” – to be happy slaves – to give up our desires of power in freedom and wallow in consolation – whether that consolation is a new car or a snug vagina. Psychologists are not our friends – we are the slaves and they are using whips.
In inverted societies all “being a man” means is being a happy slave – with a happy wife and happy children and doing nothing at all to change the society. Utter selfishness, utterly pathetic. This is what we call a “good” person. An upstanding member of the community. A true monster.
The Hero wanted to stumble but couldn’t. He wanted to fall but remained erect, fully erect forever, forced to kill and kill again. As a farmer he was so young. As a hero his soul is rotting and decaying.