God, this has been a strange day in my feed.
I started out the morning writing about a fun little mash-up that's been banging about my head for weeks (see The Starship Whatsitsname for more) and then followed it up by running into about a dozen people who were gnashing their teeth about their "cause."
I said, I like killing ogres, orcs, and anything else I come across in role-playing games; not because they represent the other, but because I like killing things to earn experience points. It's a fun mechanic that let's me jump off buildings, onto a dragon's back, slit it's throat, and ride it's plummeting carcass into an exploding volcano.
"But you could have just as much fun sitting in a room pretending to be molested by your father and discussing your feelings about the imaginary event! Why we've got this game where -"
Let me stop you right there. I'll play spaceship games where I'm blowing up planets. I'll rescue bystanders in a Supers game without a second thought. I'll even raise the dead and start my own necromantic army to fight your Ogres in the Valley of the Three Forks. But if you think for one minute that I'm going to play a game like that then you've completely misunderstood why I play games.
I play them to unwind and have fun - often killing imaginary creatures by the thousands - not to learn deep emotional lessons about how I would react if my Dad decided to diddle me. Who the fuck even does that?
Creepy.
"Oh, sure you'll slaughter imaginary elves but you won't even examine your own emotional . . ."
Nope. Not why I play games.
Wait? Why did I get blocked?
