I’m Sorta Okay At Destiny 2, And That’s Alright

There’s no better reminder of how “a step above average” you are at a video game than seeing the performance of a high-skill group of players who have practiced their coordination and communication. I used to get this through watching the professional Overwatch league, back in the days when I watched and played that game before I chose to uninstall all my Blizzard games for reasons of moral concern (which has only gotten worse over the years since). Now, I get it by watching my friend and his fellow members of what our (I kept writing “his/my friend’s clan” even though I’m a part of it because I’m still only dipping my toes back into Destiny 2, but I changed it all in editing because I’m trying to push myself to become a more active member of the group) clan calls Team 1 as they prepared for the latest raid and now practice for future guided raids.

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Additional Thoughts, Caveats, And The Problems of Satire On The Internet

Today, I’m writing the rare sequel to a blog post. I wrote yesterday about my willingness to commit to the bit so long as it was a generally positive or neutral thing, and as I’ve reflected on that piece and thought about life in the internet age, I’ve realized there’s another important caveat beyond my “don’t use my powers for evil or negativity” caveat from yesterday. The other important rule of my bit commitment, so integral that I completely forgot about it until I saw someone break it on Twitter today, is “never commit to a bit on the internet.”

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I Only Use My Willingness to Commit To The Bit For Good

Sometimes, I like to spend way too much time on something. In years past, I was not as skilled at directing this time and attention toward something constructive and positive. I’d spend hours scrolling through social media, trying to get my spoons perfectly clean (OCD’s a bitch), or getting everything perfect on a theaterical set I was building (instead of getting it good enough for something that was going to stay up for three weeks and then get tossed in a dumpster). Now, I’m a little better at directing my time. I direct this level of focus towards putting puzzles together, deep-cleaning my apartment, and various personal projects. Which isn’t to say that I can channel my compulsions into something useful, but that maybe I’ve gotten better at handling my mental health in a way that leads toward more positive coping mechanism than obsessing over whether or not my most-used utensil is bacteria free and not going to kill me by introducing rat posion/foreign bacteria/????DANGER???? into my system.

After a brief, jovial conversation at work, during which I politely asked a coworker to fuck off after he criticised my slap-dash wiring methods, I was asked by another coworker what was the most complicated and time-consuming way I’d told someone to fuck off. He was referencing my tendency to commit to elaborate bits and my willingness to spend a lot of time doing something right the first time, but I couldn’t think of any examples. Most of the time, I just tell people to fuck off directly. Ever since that conversation, I’ve been trying to think of any example of a time I spent a lot of time on something like that and I’ve drawn a blank.

Clearly, I don’t mind spending a lot of time on things other people don’t consider important or worth it. I spent hours turning in a paper because it was my degree capstone and I liked my professor a lot. In addition to the standard format copy I submitted just to cover all my bases, I took a cue from a discussion we’d had in in class the week prior and the peculiar way I’d written the title of this 20-page paper. I printed the whole thing out on several long pieces of paper, used my theatrical prop-building skills to turn them all into a properly parchment-looking sheet, and “nailed” (pieces of duct tape with the word “nail” written on them) the result to my professor’s office door the day the paper was due. It was not a cheap trick to pull for a broke college student, given that the only paper that would work for my purposes was some of the heavy-duty art-student paper I had to get specially printed at the print shop on campus.

I did a similar thing to ask a woman out, once. Wrote a short story based on some things we had discussed and some stuff we were learning about in a class we were both taking, and eventually delivered a hand-distressed “ancient myth” I’d discovered. It was fun, took way too long, and was 100% worth it. The relationship didn’t develop much further in that direction, but I enjoyed my time spent in the crafting. I’ve also spent hours wrapping presents in ways that disguised not only what the present was, but what part of the strange result was actually the present (if you twist a shirt tightly enough and then wrap the result in plastic wrap, it actually becomes a rather firm object you can use as the haft of an axe you’ve made out of tape, cardboard, and way too much wrapping paper). I’ve made various weapons, done one of the largely annoying but still fun “box in a box in a box in a box in a box….” style wraps, and even took the time to elaborately write out a certificate as a present, the first letter of each work spelling out where the recipient could actually find their gift.

The through-line of all of this is that I am willing to spend a lot of time doing things I find interesting, that I enjoy, or that I think other people will enjoy. My love of repititive and exacting tasks means I can zone out and never get bored doing something like that, so there’s generally very little reason for me not to do that kind of thing. But I’ve never spent more than a couple minutes on something that might upset someone. I’ve spent time crafting letters to establish boundaries and working out how to express myself in a situation that is emotionally frought, but I’ve never spent more than a couple minutes on something meant as an elaborate form of “fuck off.” I just don’t have the time or the energy for that kind of negativity. I was going to say “bullshit” instead of “negativity,” but I have plenty of time and energy for largely uninteresting stuff others might consider bullshit.

One of the upsides of my childhood is that I quickly learned that being mean to people isn’t worth my time. The more time you spend on telling someone you hate them, the happier they are. Bullies, trolls, and abusers are always happy to see you spend your time on them, regardless of the reason. There’s an old saying that the best revenge is a life well-lived, and while I like the sentiment, I’m not sure I entirely agree. Some people need to be punched, some people need to be told off, and some people need to be chewed out, but I’m not going to spend any more time than I feel is absolutely necessary for my own health and satisfaction (or the health or satisfaction of someone I’m supporting) on someone I don’t care about. Generally speaking, they’re not worth it.

I hope this doesn’t come off as smugly superior. I just think it’s worth thinking about that if you want to spend hours planning an elaborate revenge prank or whatever, it might be a better use of your time to just punch them in the face and move on with your life as best you can. Or just tell them to get fucked and walk away. Or offer to show up as a call-in guest to a small multi-person therapy session to tell them they fucking suck and can go fuck themselves before promptly hanging up. Lots of ways to just do it and be done, you know? Spend your time and energy one something better, life filing your taxes or picking gum out of carpet. At least you’ll have accomplished something lasting when those are tasks are done.

Open-World Situation Building In Dungeons & Dragons

After nearly two months, I got to run my Sunday night Dungeons and Dragons campaign again. After side-sessions, many missed sessions, and a whole lot of tumult in everyone’s life, we were able to gather again and return to the dark fantasy and mild horror stylings of the world I’d spent over a year slowly developing. I had fun, my players had fun, there was a lot of lucky rolls, the player characters survived a lot of nasty damage, there were some clutch reactions and actions, and only one player character died in a boss battle they were absolutely unprepared for! That’s the danger of open-world scenarios, you know. You can accidentally wander into the desecrated temple to the not-evil gods right as a priest of what is essentially malicious entropy completes a ritual that temporarily grants him a huge deal of power in a side-realm. All without any of the information that contextualizes any of that so even when you do win, you’re not sure if it matters or not, or even how to do anything as a result.

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I’m Tired and Sad, So Let’s Talk About The Legend of Zelda: Episode 10

It has been a lot, the past few weeks. I find myself feeling just broken-hearted, exhausted, metaphorically out of breath, and incapable of mustering the energy to do any of my usual blogging stuff. So, I am turning to my old, familiar fallback of writing about The Legend of Zelda. This time, I’m going to talk about the very first Legend of Zelda game I ever played. It was a well-received game, lauded by many as the pinnacle of the franchise (though I’d contest that) and a game-changer in terms of what a player could expect from a top-down adventure game, so much so that it is still being used as the gold-standard decades later when people make games in a similar style. For those of you who haven’t guessed it already, I’m talking about A Link to the Past.

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Slow Change And Matters Of The Self

There are moments in a day, as I pursue my usual routines and common pastimes, that I find my mind at rest and my head empty of thoughts. These moments frequently arrive on the tail of simple thoughts, small ideas bouncing around my head as I direct myself toward some goal or task. A reminder to thoroughly scrub my scalp in the shower. An errant consideration about skipping the current song on my playlist. Some spark of imagination or creativity ignited by the podcast or audiobook I’m listening to. A recollection of something I meant to do earlier in this room I just entered but had forgotten until just now. As my body responds to the thought, taking action, or my mind files the spark of creativity away until I can focus on it, I become aware of the sheer size and emptiness of my mind in those moments.

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Destined To Always Return To Destiny

For the third time, I’ve decided to get back into Destiny 2. The first time was following a normal lull in play as I ran out of content to enjoy, hit the point of grinding for small increases, and couldn’t get a group of friends together for the end-game type content (a raid). I stopped playing when I hit that same point again, though this time we did manage to get enough people together to do the first raid before the next one properly came out. The second time, I got back into Destiny 2 with the release of some new content in an attempt to maintain connections after I moved away from my now ex-roommates and we tried to find ways to spend time together during the various peaks of the pandemic. I fell out again because I couldn’t even get a group together without a lot of schedule work to do the small-team weekly activities and I’m not one for playing these types of games by myself. I’d much rather do it with other people. Never once did I stop playing because I wasn’t enjoying the gameplay, the story, or any of the content. I always stopped because I just didn’t have people whose company I enjoyed to continue playing with.

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Stress, Coping, And Not Tempting Fate

Of course, the week I wrote about being resilient and capable of managing my stress is the week the world takes another step down the “gone to hell” path. My workplace announces an end to mask requirements, Russia invades Ukraine (keep in mind I wrote this on February 24th and February 24th Chris has no idea what has happened between now and then), and the conservatives of my country have continued to do their best to prove what absolute shithead fascists they are. I really need to stop writing about how I’ve finally gotten my feet underneath me or how I’m managing my stress. It feels too much like tempting the fuckers to fuck something up in the world at this point.

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Weird Weather And Warming Walks In Wisconsin

Lately, the weather has been changing more than usual. Setting aside all the potential problems this might indicate (for sanity, not because they aren’t necessary), I’ve been enjoying the variability. There are very few places in the world where the weather can go from “potential frostbite if the wind blows long enough” to “you’ll want a sweatshirt, but you’ll need to roll the sleeves up before long” in less than twenty-four hours without drawing remark. I happen to live in one of them (the midwest of the US). As a result, I got to enjoy a pleasant walk in the sunny fifties one day and then had to bundle up tight against a frigid wind that sought to claim my exposed skin the next day.

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Even Small, Every-Day Accomplishments Are Still Accomplishments

It can be difficult to maintain context in your life. At the very least, it is difficult for me. I haven’t figured out how to really compare notes with people in my life about the way we remind ourselves of the context of our lives and our daily deeds, so I’m not sure if this is a problem I face because of my childhood, or if it’s something everyone struggles with. As a child, I got very skilled at normalizing the things happening in my life. It was a key survival skill, going hand-in-hand with hiding the way I felt and learning to live with people who did not treat me well. While I’ve made a lot of personal progress on the latter two things (which will still be the work of a lifetime, rather than a labor I can reach the definitive end of), I still struggle with maybe too-readily normalizing whatever is happening in my life.

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