Myself as a Wounded Gamer

I am not only a writer, I am also a gamer, and there is currently something going on in mainstream media I find deeply offensive, and wrong in many ways. Some are claiming, falsely in my mind, that somehow gamers like myself are violent, misogynistic individuals that feel entitled to certain things. Never mind the fact that I fail to see how I can classify as misogynistic I have never once felt entitled. Why else would I make a place for my writings? Now this might not be something those that follow my posts want to see, it may even lose me some followers and gain me some hateful messages from what I’ve seen happen to those on twitter and the like, but I stand true in my thoughts and opinions as I say that what they are seeing is something that they want to see. They want the problems to exist with these people, with people like myself, so that they have cause to “fix” things in their image of “right”, now I have not, nor will I mention the names of the people that want such things as this is not an attack on them or those that believe them simply my side of the story. I am currently enrolled in college, and I have been in college now since June or so, though I have gone before and had to put it on hold for financial reasons. I’ve held a steady but minimum wage job for three years, I have few friends outside of gaming in real life as honestly going out has never appealed to me. However what they are doing is alienating me and those that share my past time even further by saying such things, by attacking my character by attacking the whole they paint me a villain. I hold this to be untrue, as all I want to do is play my games, write my stories and poems and live a nice quiet life. These people that act a victim for the press have made me feel hurt, saddened by these things. They claim things like “The Patriarchy” and that those that are male and play games will resort to threats and violence to get their way, but thats just a few people with a louder voice, their words ring out to many due to the wrongness of the message. Threats and fear are not the way for change, and that’s exactly what they’re trying to do, instead of going the slower, but morally correct route of change from within they are making this a political issue and painting villains of those that play games. Simply search #gamergate (Where the true issue was gaming press mind you, and the lack of journalism ethics in that field.) and you’ll find what I mean. I’ve recently found that apparently Law and Order is doing an episode with #gamergate painted as terrorists, and this wounds me, near to the point of tears. Being hated, or seeing hatred and fear pointed at those of you that simply share a past time is, painful. To do this, to do such things, is wrong, to force an opinion on others via mass media and victimization, while crying out as a victim yourself, is wrong. The people doing this do not see that they are using the few to identify the many, when the few are exactly that. There are many people on the internet, there are many people playing games, and some of them won’t be good people, some of them might be good people with bad intents, bad moments or bad feelings can give birth to worse words and in tense situations such things do tend to happen. This is not an excuse, but I still feel that out of the people I know that play games, many of them are good, upstanding people, are we all villains now? It feels that people are intent to see those of us that identify as a gamer as such a thing. It hurts, rather greatly, in a truly saddening way to be ostracized so, it does not make me less of a gamer though. I will not sacrifice myself, and what makes me happy, simply to appease others. No one should, no one should ever have to, it should not be something that becomes necessary. I play games like League of Legends, and Baldur’s Gate, things like Diablo 3 and World of Warcraft. I am active on several MUDs as well (multi user dungeon, text based thing.) and to see my past time so disparaged, done such disservice, hurts me deeply.  I am not emotional-less, as can be evidenced by my writings I think it is obvious that I feel, and I feel deeply at that. I feel I have been wronged and slandered, and while I hesitant to say as such I feel that in going about it this way, those out there like me, and there has to be more in similar states as me or worse even, would appreciate at least an apology. Instead of attacking us, and that is what this is doing regardless of them meaning it as such or not, talk to those like myself and others, see reason and explain to us why? Why do these things? What did gamers, apparently as a whole, do to you to deserve such pain?  This is obviously just a personal view on this, what I’ve sadly taken from these events is hurt. I felt the need to vent and decided I might as well do such things here.

Unasked, Unanswered

I sit here old and wonder why, as all those times pass me by, perhaps if I had changed my name, or even, for a time, adopted another mind. Another way to think and see, perhaps then I could be, be at peace with me and mine instead of sitting here, wondering why. I see it now, it’s time to go, the questions unasked, unanswered, never known. No longer will I sit here old, watching those times that past me by. My time’s run out, it’s all done now, the bell has tolled and it’s time to go. I hope you remember when you see this chair, remember me, and my few gray hairs. Don’t remember me sitting here, watching that time just pass me by, don’t remember me wondering why, the questions unasked, unanswered, never spoken so never known. Remember instead those times we shared, those times we had together when we both were fair, healthy and hale. Not old and ailing, and, seemingly failing. So, this farewell has gotten long it seems, and it’s time to cut it short, so long, and fare well, and remember me always, just not this moment please, if you could. That time I sat there old and ailing, wailing inside as I wondered why, why did I have to wait to go, you left first you see, and so I sat here, and wondered why. Why, oh why, wasn’t it me? I’ll see you soon though, I’m on my way, hold the door dear, and never fear, asked and unanswered it echoes unheard. The answer unspoken but given without words, no worries, no waiting, no more wondering why. Goodbye and hello, for now and all time.

The Muse, The Choir, The Dark Song.

At one time I knew all sorts, from differing worlds from the many ports. Some were kind, and some were mean, others very different from how they seemed. They told of places strange indeed, from places where the land did bleed, to those without words for the things they have seen. They offered inspiration, a kind of muse, though, some, some darker ones sung a different tune.

Those dark seeds told of awful deeds, they sung of things meant never to be. I knew them false friends for all the truth in their tune, their words would bring no joy, only my end all too soon. Yet still I learned that woeful song they knew, the one that sounds like broken noise until you decide to join it to. Empty in heart, and heavy in soul, their words made no sense in the chaos they offered, yet in that I found the peace I’d sought though I carry out no orders, no wicked deeds. Instead I share what I see, I share that song, that horrible, wondrous thing, with all with eyes to hear and the ears to see.

I still hear those bright singers at time, those old friends of mine, yet more often than not I hear that dark choir, that awful broken thing. That company of souls to blackened to be yet to dark to cease that blessed suffering. They offer reprieve, from order and from pain, from that endless cycle of being, of existing, that drive to simply gain. There is however, darker things, different types of pain, things that make no sense, creatures that should never see the light of a human mind, things that existence itself tries to deny.

Lost And Found

I talked to my friends, once again, and remembered the words they say. They sing of darker things, of twisted creatures and of those that lost their way. The reminded me of something I had forgot, something lost until today.

At one point I wandered their woods, their darkened paths, and made a promise to return one day. Yet I found myself and lost that path and since then I’ve never lost myself again. Found but forsworn all at once, I wander the words in hope of that path, that place my soul was broken. Left torn on the branches of an ancient ash, in that darkened path I can’t recall, but just barely remember, that distant memory.

Oh how I miss those darkened woods, that ancient ash that I recall, that berry bush that broke my fall and gave me food and wicked dreams.

I remember the warmth of that darkened spot, those twisted ways that made one believe they were there to stay. Not believe I’d ever leave, I hung my soul upon that old tree. I remember the feel of it, that oily thing, soaked in tears and blood I’d not noticed, scratches and scars so evident, the evidence was painful to see. It made me cry anew for a while or too, until that opened the wounds to gush and ooze. I left it to heal, to dry, the ancient ash promising to help it heal in time, to sew the wounds and smooth the scars, it promised to return it, to make sure those that might knew it was mine.

o I promised to go back, to find myself again, but in doing so I lost myself, and my soul, in finding myself I lost myself, and now it begins anew. I have to find that ancient tree, that wonderful friend of mine, at least once, just to see. To see my soul hanging there, and check if its time, if it’s healed enough to once again be mine.

Liar’s Mind

Standing inside my center I see my tainted core, and through it I see myself, shattered forever more. The breaks are not apparent, and are nowhere close to clean, from what little I can see, nothing is what it seems.

Confusion is a constant, pain is just a blur, happiness a fleeting wish, something here only for me to miss. Standing here surrounded, by those I know and love, a smile for a second, before the sadness comes. From where it came it will return, only to be returned to me anew. This is the fear, the constant dread, the haze I live my every day in.

I see it clearly, but can’t stop, knowing makes it worse, as much as it makes me better, the doubt adds to the pain, believing one is real, another a lie, makes me wonder about how honest is my mind? How much to doubt, how much do I know, can I trust myself?

No, I don’t believe so. Inside my center once more, watching that tainted core, throwing off that poison, that sad fate, there’s nothing I can do, no acceptance nor reprieve, for none of that would last, not with in this wretched place.  So, with a smile upon my face, I hide it with in my false grace,  a liar’s mask for a lying mind, an actor in a play, simply reading lines.

I owe those I love more than that, but at this time it’s all I can grasp. A liar’s mind is my curse, my secret shame, even though it could hold my call to fame. I know it well this endless game, but I wish, just once I wish I was the same, that knew my thoughts were just my own, not part and parcel of some flaw, some illness, or wretched disease.

I wish I knew what calm felt like, or happiness without fear, I wonder often what it’s like to not be this anxious when others are near. To know and trust myself and my feeling, to wonder what it’s like to feel a thing for more than a seconds thought, to continue that strain, instead of having it overwritten, or washed away like it was some harsh stain. I wonder what that’s like, to have a core that isn’t strained, isn’t stained, isn’t cursed or tainted. To have one that might be dented, a little marred and slightly scarred but still pure, untainted, untouched by the illness of a liar’s mind. Oh, how I wish I could know that, for at least a time.


Darkness running, darkness, rushing. Here to take you night is coming. Rushing ahead, and giggling with glee, your life they claim, you soul, never free.

Lost to shadows, lost to time, instead here chained to me and mine, that darkness came and claimed your soul, and now, now suffering is all you’ll know.

Again the darkness is giggling with glee even as you attempt to flee, to find some place safe, some reprieve, but there is no rest, no escape, the darkness has you, know your fate.

Watch them all inside that light, watch them in your hated night, know that they know not your pain, know nothing of fear, of madness. Curse them as you watch them so, knowing what you do as you stare at that glow, at the bright hated light inside this, your blessed night.

Running, rushing, now you are the dark that’s coming, that dreaded cackle in the midnight air, that crackle of noise when nothing is there. That fatal sound, that dreadful laugh, you’re the thing they see last. With a smile and a laugh, that giggle of glee, their life you take, their soul, never free.