Most of the profound, significant fabulous events in my life never happened.
soul may be
them* this* like that* those* here* clip* him there* her so* it* now* soundtrack* no thank you* more*
yes* done* yummy* never again* image* mistake* restart* like*
Playing is rule-painting yourself willingly into a corner. The tighter and more complex tricky challengeing dangerous risky the more fun getting out.
Hard-sticking rules help me avoid that dull bored cheating myself at solitaire headache. I can’t cheat on Runescape.
I am the god of my Runescape character.
She is fun. She has purple hair. Now I don’t need purple wings cuz she just got some. It’s halloween year round playing dressup with the virtual paper doll I do quests with and level up.
I wanted a halo. I just get one for her. Twenty or so hours playing Caste Wars one of the sub games where the main game rules don’t apply will get us a halo. They don’t. But an even tighter more demanding timed set do. The stakes are higher. The rewards are unique. I’m not that good at it. But if I really wanted a halo I could get good or better. I want other things.
Some things I want bad. Realky bad. It hurts to miss out on temporary takes too.
I still regret missing getting squirrel ears cuz the Easter Holiday event ended right while I was finishing the quest to get them. I’d put it off till the last day and miscalculated the time.
I felt like my friend Matthew felt when the Seahawks didn’t win the super bowl. Only more so. I felt like I’d missed the easter egg hunt when I was seven.
As a matter of fact in general playing makes me feel seven on an easter egg hunt. Or ten leading a spy troop of cockhorse riders to take back our tree fort.
When your character dies in the game it’s like we died in those battles. You lose your stuff , play dead. Then you get up and join the game again. In Runescape you respawn.
Unless you are in the wild west wilderness part of the game where you kill players and take their stuff, you get a gravestone. Your stuff is under it. If you make it back in time you can recover your hard earned valuable gear and supplies.
It’s been this way for years.
Before the whole game was this way. It was so nerve wracking. It was impossible to relax becouse you could be hijacked anyware at any time. That frazzked pkayers nerves. So it got updated.
The player killing was banished to the Wilderness. That worked for a while. Kids kept rage quiting when they lost months of hard earned armour and weapons in one fight.
The gamemakers removed the wild from the game. They may as well have removed half the subscribers. Everybody quit.
Then came back a year later when they could kill eachother again.
Mostly all the “manual labor” and boring training you put your character through is to prepare you for a fight.
Two weeks ago hardcore mode was inteoduced.
For a fee you can create a character who when she dies, is really dead. It’s all over the server news too.
You pay a fee. To really be dead.
It’s the rage. If not to participate, some of us are inept gamers, to watch to follow, to wonder.
Now all we need when those kids beat this is a game just like this but you are in the virtual reality and yeah what better than to raise the stakes and forget who you are altogether, like hide and seek. Be the game. Gods at play.
I must have paid a fee.
What if I’m god? My own god of course. Not yours. That would be boreing. My life reads like a freaken novel, the hunger games or something. The where do I start asking myself where to start kind of deamon angel horned winged gamer lore freaky.
Someone had to have written the script. The catalyst. I get to gamble. Play to lose. Beat the odds and fail till winning feels like crack. The hurdles falling out of the sky and being shat at the same time . TV dramma nonstop conflicts of interest dilemma impossible choices loss, impossible hopes hilarious sad unimaginable loss and stupidity. The twisty brilliant dark twists. The secrets. Reveals double no triple mystery magic re-corkscrew twists.
I wonder if maybe I was undefined haughty ass all or semi all-powerful god who couldn’t be courageous.
Humans are better than gods. Humans are brave sweet hularious story vulnerable-precious. Gods aren’t precious. Are they?
From godhood I rose to Humanity.
The only thing I was good for, really good at as an asshole god was design. I engineer a story life to get at myself from every angle. To challenge wonder fight take risks hurt live die. To grow a soul.
Real Gods dods don’t have them.
Who would want to be one of those?
Who but me would write play in and direct this antidote to existential boredom for myself. Take the game to the next level. Me not play?
Human may be the new god/deamon.
Then maybe each particular individual variation is a twist in a good story. Since every good story is about conflict of interests and growth from making growing choices then conflict of interests it’s totally a basic high quality story ingredient. So we would story- starve without our differences.
Just for the record. No diversity no story, no Saturday cartoons.
Then there is this other wonder. To just call the other interest, not my own, the guys who want some really no-way things evil could be really dumb or maybe just developmentally at a certain level. Like the ewww girls level. The boys have cooties level. Quite age appropriate even. Maybe part of the meaning of life is that as a cultural being we are age appropriate.
Then, if so, what developmental level in me and my species comes next? What are some of the possible new ingredients for tasty satisfying story foid? Are they an acquired taste like caviar? What do I pay to get them? Where? How? Where do I find a Why and learn to cook it?
Wait, that’s the seed of every new story vegetable. Maybe, it’s for planting.
Would you, if you could, plant and grow a story vegetable garden?
What do healthy home-cooked stories taste like?
Do “my” stories create and add up to my “me”?
Are there GMO stories?
Wondering: Is storytelling is a game an art a meal? Perhaps the recipie requires some fine story ingredients. You may want a fabulous chef. Mostly does story proceed from the hunger. Formed from desire, from hungry eyes and ears and hearts and wanting to play and taste and feel and be becoming. Or something like that.
Like Runescape, or a sport team you want to be a part and play in it or just to be tied in, for it to matter what happens. People play to lose. People gamble to lose. How I found that out is it’s own story. The life of a story where it goes, how it trips and falls and what it falls into, how that into splashes, oozes smells. What it taste like mixed with blood in it’s mouth. Why it went there in the first place and won’t or can’t turn back. Or why it does or is or is not. What twisted it’s arm into doing That? Here it got cornered. There is the mess from when it totally failed. This is what other stories are telling about it.
Then you mix the two and get a person and their story it is even yummier. When you drop that story and the person into a group it gets even thicker and creamier, more satisfying comfort zero calorie food. Then you spread it out over a culture that bakes it and adds topping information density takes it gourmet.
Stories pop you right into the middle of them to sink or swim and swallow or take on water, or rush crash float spin. Like a player in a game you come out having won or lost. Can’t beat the five-beer feeling of a narrow escaping win. The feeling of your sports team getting creamed lingers the angry mob rousing bitter taste of tragedy in your mouth. Makes desire for sweet dessert of revenge rematch. Persistant hungry wondering of how and who and when that will set the world right and fill Thanksgiving appetite.
Story-Life invisible imagined game character life, might be effecting the actual evolution of life. Nothing is fascinating and delicious like the story of a person. People and stories fascinate. We hunger for this story like for food. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if its stalk story or fast story.
That’s must be why we have outrageously popular thriving Fast-Story chains.
Wondering is a defense mechanism.
Last time I thought I know what I believed and thought and it’s scale of “rightness” I was on a different metric system. The whole thing crashed and blew up. People died. Lives were ruined. You know the king was naked and all that.
Wondering assumes I don’t know yet and could use some alternate awareness than what I have now.
Wondering is a bet that someone else sees what I don’t see and I can catch the truth in the glimmer in their eye or in their posted word.
Because wondering implies that I have what it takes to sort it out eventually then measure design cut sew it into a fitting world view to wear in the World.
When I feel the shouts “the king is naked! ” I wonder if I’m the one shouting or if I’m the king.
I wont always be right. I will grow out of the clothes even if they worked. I do prefer not to wear clothes sometimes. So, when I figure someone is totally off you know say like our pet scapegoats the 1%, if I really had an answer or a solution or something to say to one of these the best thing would be to start by seeing a person. A person, sometimes naked like me. Then move on from there to what each of us knows and feels. Then to wondering about that. Freedom of speech all it means is it’s safe to wonder. I wonder If the fancy 1% really even get to enjoy the first amendment. To many mobs bitching to even have a second to wonder.
This is what I would have written in my private Morning Pages. Not sure it’s too naked to be walking the streets of the City of Light. But onward to Forty-Two.
Ask the right questions and 42 will be the answer. Question is, what are the right questions?
Wondering could help with this. That’s what this whole affair is about so I may as well actually do it here. Do it here rather than in my usual paper form. Just for this one countdown.
A Waywardspirit Wondering Countdown to 42.
Yep my own personal answer to Life The Universe and Everything is on it’s Way!
Wonder-up the questions, I will. So when I get the answer to this meaning of Life, The Universe and Everything I may , hopefully, know what the question was.
For the next 365 then (give or take), Waywardspirit will be Wondering to 42.