How and Why I Quit Video Games

“It’s harmless” is what I would often say to myself. “It’s just a video game.”

fatty

I won’t lie; I’m going to miss talking about video games with random people I meet out and about. The gaming subculture was my terrain for so long, but it had to stop sometime.

I took a friend up on a casual bet: No video games for 30 days.The wager?I pay him every time I play a video game, but the bet stacks geometrically every time there is an infraction. Ouch. For example: the first infraction would be twenty dollars. The next would be forty dollars and so on and  so forth. If there is one thing that drives me more than my yearning to play video games it is my love of money. I hate forking over money needlessly, so that helped a lot. It was a gentlemen’s agreement, but there was more at stake than just money. I want to be a man of my word, and that means not lying to myself. I didn’t play a game at all and while it wasn’t a particularly hard thing for me to accomplish, I’m still glad I was able to go through with it.

Why this Challenge though?

According to my mother, I’ve played video games since I was 13 months old. Unlucky number, huh? I’m 25 now, so I’ve played video games for as long as I can remember. I don’t like the idea of doing something without first arriving at the idea that it was my choice. It’s almost like they were forced upon me without my knowledge.It wouldn’t be so bad if video games actually had some end; I’ve spent thousands of hours of my life that I’ll never get back. As a kid, I enjoyed writing, but video games always came first for me. Who knows what could have happened if I had taken my writing more seriously? That is to say nothing of my martial arts and the countless other hobbies I forsook in my quest for levels? Essentially, what I’m getting at is that video games are a huge opportunity cost. You get virtual rewards, and maybe, just maybe, if you’re good enough you can become a professional, but the gaming scene is tempestuous. How many professional gamers are able to continuous keep afloat of all the changes and still remain on top? Many of the people making money are the streamers, contest organizers or the announcers, not the actual players.

How did I survive?

I would like to pretend that this was a really tough challenge so that I might receive some adulation, but it really wasn’t hard. After 25 years of gaming, It just gets boring. Plots begin to all seem the same, characters that should be fleshed out just stick to archetypes. It was just another grind and I’m glad to be turning in my joystick.

Edgar J. Proofrock Had Low Testosterone

Are we Alfred J. Proofrock? Furthermore, are they trying to make us into Alfred J. Proofrock? 

I was reading T. S. Eliot and that was what came to mind. It’s a strange question to ask myself, but there was something about this balding, indecisive man that made me think of myself. I don’t say that out of sympathy, but many of his ramblings do remind me of myself:
“Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.”
How often do we find ourselves in situations were we’re stuck in a vortex of indecision and self-doubt over some of the smallest fucking things .Things that shouldn’t even command more than a minute’s consideration can spiral into day-long self-talk struggles for some men. His stream of consciousness mirrors the modern man’s constant struggle with himself to take action and not die old and full of regrets.
WE all have regrets and anyone who says otherwise is probably a liar, and there isn’t anything wrong with having regrets. We’re not built for long-term thinking, we’re given to fright and fearful thinking about the future and how could we not be? we’re born into a world where no one knows anything. I once read a statistic that said that 99% of all possible recorded data on human history has been lost due to human tampering, nature disaster and other forms of destruction. We don’t know anything. Nothing. That isn’t to downplay the significance of what we do no.
I’m going to drink some wine in honour of Mr. Proofrock tonight. In honour of us.

Congratulations, you’re a lawyer.

She’s so cold that just looking at her makes the idea of sex die and retreat to the darkest recesses of your mind.

“When you get in the room it’ll be dark. Stay where you are and take off your clothes and await further orders.”
Her eyes are covered by shades darker than a black hole, but she betrays her feelings by letting the tiniest hint of pity seep into her voice.
Pity? 
 
This is the best year of your life—or, at least, it’s going to be soon enough. A fresh new lawyer. You let the thoughts roll through your mind as you envision yourself winning case after case after case…
The garbled crackle of an intercom breaks up your mental-masturbation and the lights flicker on.
There’s a tiny, little baby kitten sitting on a pedestal in a room. It’s the cleanest room you’ve ever seen. The kitten has those adorable orange stripes on black fur that make it look like some sort of bizzaro-world tiger.
Your oversized khaki’s are a creamy, caramel-coloured pool around your ankles and you eagerly kick them off as you whip the shirt off of your body and toss it behind you. Your calvin klein boxer briefs land like a strange, fabric oil spill on the pedestal next to kitten. The kitten doesn’t seem to mind the nudity, but it lets out a meow that sounds a lot like a “what?” It’s blue eyes look up at you as you consider walking forward, but the woman’s voice comes back to our mind, “stay where you are.”
“Pick up the kitten, hold it close to you and look it in the eyes.”
The sweet purr machine doesn’t seem to mind being picked up. you look into those small, shiny blue eyes and wait there staring at the kitten as though it were you own newborn baby girl.
“Put your right hand around its neck. Keep looking it in the eyes. Don’t look away, not even for second.”
The little meat machine just looks up at you. Against orders (or without them, at least) you start to run your right index finger across it’s little neck like a warm knife across the throat of some unsuspecting creep.
rub rub rub goes the finger.
 
They only needed to say one word now and it was the only one you needed. It was the one you were born for: “Squeeze.”
Your grip tightens, and for the first time in its gloriously short life the little kitten is fighting. The little purr machine’s face mutates into a mask of hopelessness and fury as its neck pops like chicken bones in the hands of a god.
“Good. Now twist its head off. Don’t forget to never break eye contact.”
The black cat’s fur hides a lot of the blood at first, but the blood soon begins to pour out like freshly squeezed orange juice on a bright sunday morning after a night of blow and debauchery.
Its dead eyes never did close. Those impossibly baby blue cat eyes with the predator, reptilian slits. They just keep on staring and staring and staring.
“Bend over and put the cat on the floor and remain bent at the waist. This will all be over soon. Maintain eye contact with the cat and do not break it under any circumstance.”
The sound of the door flipping open is startling, but it’s almost expected. You’re almost a lawyer.
“Don’t be alarmed; Ddn’t turn around under any circumstance.”
The cats eyes never waver, not even for a moment.
A cold hand brushes against your back and something cold enters your anus.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The owner of that cold hand now takes over the instruction process, “make yourself cum. Stroke yourself. You’re almost finished.” The voice is cold and familiar. The woman from earlier.
The first tears of your new life roll down your face as the cold thing inside of your thrusts in and out in rhythm with the strokes of your hand.
You feel something wet on your back after that cold thing leaves your rear.
You finish and your seed spills and lands on the face and eyes of that dead little cat. Finally, its eyes close
“Congratulations; you’re a lawyer.”

A roiling composite of rage and peculiarity.