Why I Love Video Games

I remember a scene from The Simpsons Movie. Springfield is about to be destroyed. The fat, balding, single guy who runs the comic book store looks around and says, "You know, I've devoted my entire life to comic books. And now that it's about to end, all I can think is..."

*embraces pile of comics*

"Life well spent!"

I have the disturbing feeling a part of me might actually say that.

Not about comics, though. I have nothing against them. But the pantheon of superheroes, in its original form, is a little arcane. Where do you start? And though they are flashy, I can't summon enough interest for books of pictures compared to books without. I'm weird that way.

We all feel a certain way about treasured elements of childhood. And comic books weren't a meaningful part of mine. Other forms of media were - two in particular.

One of those was regular books. I've already waxed on about those extensively, and will continue to do so. (If that wasn't obvious.) I'm already planning another post in the same vein as this one, examining just why I love to read.

This would be the other.

Looking back, I have wondered just how healthy my hobby is. I mean, it's not like this is all I do. But I have spent a fair amount of time on it - time that could have been used for other things. Learning a new language, or a musical instrument, or working on that fantasy novel I'm always talking about. 

But then again - I've done those things too. 

I enjoyed them all. I think a key decision in how we live our lives is choosing whether to feel bad about what we didn't do, or to feel good about what we did. And life is too short to neglect the things we enjoy - including this one.

I might as well embrace it.

Today I'll be talking about why I love video games.

What gave me the idea for this post in the first place was thinking about my choices of entertainment. I'll sometimes go online to Google random things. Occasionally I'll still watch TV, or go see a movie, or read a (local) comic. But I spend far more time reading books and playing video games.

And since I tend to ask odd questions - my first reaction to a refrigerator water dispenser was to ask how it worked; a cousin said I have a curious soul - I thought, why is that?

I realized it comes down to interactivity.

Those other things I mentioned are all static. You take them in without needing to give anything back. I find them shallow. There are a few exceptions to that, but not many.

Well okay, you do interact with the internet, and I just said I'm naturally curious. So it makes sense that that takes third place.

Yes, books are interactive. They're blueprints for your imagination - you're required to visualize the information presented. But I'll make that argument elsewhere.

And video games are all about immersion.

Which is stating the obvious. But let me go on: it's immersion in the things that interest me.

I have another cousin who's also into video games. He prefers racing games with real cars, shooters based in the real world, and sports games. Realism appeals to him, and he admits he finds more fantastical titles boring.

And that's fine. We all have our own interests. But in my case, I have to admit - I find realism boring.

Well, no, not exactly. Realism in fiction is important; it provides contrast for the things that aren't real. Part of what made Skyrim so appealing was that it looks like Norway. But a Norway where you run around fighting dragons and shooting lightning out of your hands.

Watch the skies, traveller.

To put it another way: I value imagination. I like sci-fi/fantasy because it's not real. It's the legacy of people with stories to tell who actually told them. People who wanted to create new worlds, and did. That's pretty inspiring, don't you think?

And video games are the closest you can get to exploring those worlds for yourself.

Another part is, quite simply, the rush. 

Now, that can mean a lot of things. Different elements appeal to different kinds of people. I just said I like exploration. I also like action and shooting, and dislike stealth. Other people love stealth. I'll be the mage, the fighter, the super-soldier; other people want to be assassins. Or tacticians, city planners, vigilantes, F1 racers. Building armies, solving puzzles, killing zombies or flying starships. Very different activities, yes? But they can all be satisfying.

Video games are meant to be played. A game can have pretty graphics and an amazing score. But if the gameplay is tedious, frustrating, or simply cliché, the enjoyment fades fast. 

Which often comes down to taste - what it is, exactly, that you enjoy. Fans are fickle creatures. 

But if asked what my favourite games are, I would answer: the ones where I had the most fun.

Besides. For better or worse - I'm good at them.

All right, all right. I probably wouldn't win any awards. But I'll usually know what I'm doing.

I remember testing out someone else's copy of Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor a few months back. He commented on how I was already doing better than he was. It wasn't that I'd ever played the game before. I just knew that the key to any action game is learning how to block and dodge.

I did mention that I've spent a lot of time reading and playing games. And just like my reading speed is off the charts, I've learned a few tricks in video games. Utilizing cover in shooters; timing your movements in platformers. It's the little things that make a difference. 

I admit it. I like exploring new worlds because by now, the experience is familiar. 

And finally: they create the illusion of freedom.

For me at least, books and video games are the closest you can get to stepping into a story. Any one you like. From a modern-day soldier fighting in the Middle East, to an explorer searching mythical jungle ruins, to a much darker take on Alice in Wonderland.

Off with their heads.

                 
To quote George Martin, 'A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.'

I think that applies to games too. I like being a part of the stories they tell, the sense of stepping out of your life and into another. That can be taken too far, and is probably the most valid criticism towards video games. You really can lose yourself in them. All good things in moderation.

But at the same time, I think objecting to the experience because it's 'not real' is the same as saying that if man was meant to fly, he'd have been born with wings. 

Writers still write. Developers still make games. The Wright Brothers still dreamed up their aircraft.

How can they say we don't have wings when in our minds, we soar?

So think about it. Tell me in the comments, if you have time. Why do you like the things you like?

The Dark Side

"Remember that darkness lurks in every heart."
Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep

I already have a completely different post in the making. This was written in, shall we say, the shadow of the moment. But after some thought I figured, what the hell. Maybe I should show this side of myself as well.

***

I try to be optimistic. To believe in a better tomorrow. To live every day to the fullest, and so on.

Normally I succeed. And no matter how I feel, I know that I'm a lot better off than I was a few years ago. It's just that how I feel tends to follow a certain pattern.

It's funny, really. I love my job, don't think I don't. But I always look forward to the holidays. Who doesn't? You have these golden visions of days spent relaxing, working on personal projects, whatever you want.

And then the holiday arrives - and I get depressed.

I mean, it doesn't happen every time. But it's happened often enough to connect the dots.

When I'm at work, I'm confident. I'm in a setting where I have knowledge, experience, even a little authority. I know I'm doing something worthwhile. Much of my social life revolves around it. I go home and spend the night alone, and that's okay, because after a long day, more often than not I want to be alone to recharge for the next.

But with too much time to myself, the confidence fades away. I start feeling the same things I felt before I started working. I wonder where my life is going. I think about all the things I haven't done, and still can't do. I have this terrible fear that there is no better tomorrow. That this is the best it's going to get. 

I wonder if there's even any point in writing this.

That scares me.

Remember how, in the third Harry Potter book, Harry has to face a creature that morphs into one's worst fear? His is a Dementor, a hooded spectre that kills by draining you of all happiness, leaving only despair. A dark fear indeed. But one that is noted as quite wise. His greatest fear is fear itself.

I suspect my greatest fear would be...well...me. 

Myself as I am now. On the dark side.

Anyone is capable of anything. I hold this to be an absolute truth. We don't do things because, for whatever reason, we choose not to. And our choices are largely determined by our mental state.

This is why I'm wary of drinking. I've seen firsthand how people can change when inhibitions fade - in others and myself. When I drink, I tend to get depressed. I've said and done things that I deeply regret.

Our choices make us who we are. It's in moments like these that I fear choosing wrong. Someday I could decide to just give up on the world. That frightens one part of me. Another part doesn't care at all.

It's a good thing there's a third part. The one that ignores feelings and enforces logic. It reminds me that this is all part of the pattern. That we have felt this way many, many times before. 

And it always gets better. I actually don't believe that right now, but I can't deny the evidence. The dark side never wins.

If only we could stop it coming back.

I picture depression as a black hole within yourself, devouring even the smallest sparks of light. Your viewpoint narrows; colours fade. The things that make you happy don't anymore. It seems like all the world's turned to grey. 

For anyone who says you just need to think happy thoughts, let me be perfectly clear: that bullshit doesn't work. You know what happens to light in a black hole? No? You know why? 

You stop seeing it.

I'm pushing the metaphor here, but recognize that that black hole has swallowed you. You need to free yourself first. You need catharsis. Talk to someone, clean your house, compose a song or paint a picture. 

You could even write about it.

Before long, life will turn bright again.

It will come back, of course. Darkness always finds a way.

But so will you.

***

You could also check out Tiny Buddha. They help too. 

The Wheel Turns, Part 2

I said I'd write this, didn't I?

Albeit more than a year ago. Ehehehe. You can read the first part here.

At first I intended this to be my concluding entry on the Wheel of Time, covering the many ways it inspired and captivated me over the years. But then I realized this post would probably dwarf the first one. There are just too many things I want to say. So once again, I'm splitting it in two. This will be the second of three parts.

What? I'll have you know that the Wheel of Time was originally planned as a mere six books. It's in the finest tradition of the series to announce I'm making mine even longer.

Now, I actually meant this for people who've never read the series and don't know what I'm talking about. Spoilers follow. If you have read the books, great! High fives all around. But if you simply haven't read them yet - 

Stop here. Go read the books. I'd hate to ruin them for you.

Having said that: I did not read the series in order. I was lucky enough to get the first book first, but after that I read solely on the basis of availability. My own order, if memory serves, was one, eight, five, six, seven, nine, eleven, three, four, two, ten, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. The final three were in order simply because I'd caught up and had to wait for release dates with everyone else.

And I still loved the series - despite, more often than not, knowing what would happen next. Maybe you would too. If you'd like to chance it, read on. Don't say I didn't warn you.

First, some further thoughts on the final book.

'If you have grudges, put them behind you. If you have plots, bring them to completion. Make your final plays, for this...this is the end.' 

- Moridin to the surviving Forsaken, A Memory of Light

I'll usually wait at least a year before rereading books, so the experience retains a semblance of freshness. I've read a lot of good books in the meantime - I strongly recommend Guy Gavriel Kay's Under Heaven - and it's only now that I've gotten around to rereading the final book in the Wheel of Time sequence, A Memory of Light.

Maybe my expectations were too high the first time. The flaws I mentioned haven't changed. But I should still emphasize: the end is awesome. Now, with the apocalypse nigh, the various factions, nations and races of humanity (and others) finally put aside their politics and age-old hatreds and unite for what is essentially a world war against the invading forces of Shadow. 

Multiple fronts across the main continent convey a satisfying sense of scale. And the fact that the many characters and the peoples they represent are all fighting together both calls to mind the comic book fan's ecstasy over superhero crossovers, and drives home the fact that it's the end of days. There are only two sides now: everyone not on the dark side, and the dark side. Light and Shadow. Us and them. The sense of finality starts on page one, and never lets up until the climactic final battle.

Yes, the ending is vague. But intentionally so. Robert Jordan believed that readers aren't stupid - an opinion I share - and sometimes left only the barest hints of an explanation, trusting the fans to figure it out for themselves.

He also admitted he enjoyed doing so. He was kind of evil that way. 

But the fact that he kept people talking about the books after they were over probably goes a long way towards cementing his legacy. May he rest in peace.

It's still hard to believe the series has finally come to an end. But now let's look back over the ground it covered - in this post, the world and the magic, which are inextricably entwined.

1. The One Power.

Actually, the word 'magic' is almost never used.*

Instead we have the One Power, the driving force of all creation, which turns the Wheel of Time. (A central concept meaning that souls are reincarnated throughout Ages which eventually repeat themselves.) The Power is split into male and female halves - saidin and saidar. Though the two are opposites in many ways, the greatest works are accomplished when both sides work together.

This was one of my earliest lessons in the power of language.

Up until reading the first book - I was eleven, if you recall - I'd mainly encountered magic of the Tolkienesque sort: wands and waving, flowing robes and long beards. That's not a bad thing. Some books - read: Harry Potter - do it incredibly well. But there's a fine line between archetype and cliché.

In The Wheel of Time, magic was different. The term was different. Arcane tools existed, but were not strictly necessary. Gestures during spells were often behavioural quirks linked to flawed learning. All one truly needed was the ability. 

It was pretty, too.

Channeling the One Power was a vivid experience, weaving elemental threads into glowing patterns in the air. Simply holding the Power enhanced the senses, gave you endurance, and made you feel more alive. The differences between saidin and saidar intrigued me, and as a whole, I found the One Power fascinating. I don't deny that this magic inspired my own.

Which is not to say it's the most singular in fantasy fiction. But it did make an impression, almost certainly because it played such a major role in shaping the sociopolitical reality of the world - a world in which the male half is corrupted, and the Power is dominated by women. It had its own history, its own place in the story. Its own name.

Names, as we all know, have power.

2. Randland.

Which is not to say there aren't some that are tongue-in-cheek.

The main landmass of the Wheel of Time has no official name. In lieu of one, the fans dubbed it 'Randland', after the hero, Rand al'Thor.

People have complained about the series' pacing. But there's no denying that the worldbuilding is top notch. A large part of why I was so enthralled by The Eye of the World was the detail that breathed it to life. Fresh out of their backwater village, the main characters find people in another town speak with a different accent. Forgotten statues rot in the wilderness. Many doubt the Shadow even exists.

The first book mostly takes place in one kingdom. More and more are introduced as the scope expands. And of course, they all clash. Tear and Illian hate each other. The rulers of Tarabon and Altara can barely control their own capitals. The Borderlands, with their constant war against the Shadow, see southern politics as a waste of time. Cairhien fears the desert-dwelling Aiel, who laid waste to their realm over an insult. 

And over it all looms the spectre of the White Tower. Sworn to use the Power as a weapon against the Shadow only, it is nevertheless widely believed that the female Aes Sedai - 'servants of all' - manipulate half the world with their schemes. And of course, they actively hunt down male channelers.

This was by far the most complex story I read in my teens. It seemed so original. Yet at the same time, much was obviously inspired by various religions and folklores.

The ideas of reincarnation, time being cyclical and of burning away emotion to achieve detachment are all tenets of Buddhist philosophy. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai is a variant of yin and yang - white for women, black for men. A conqueror who once unified Randland is named Artur Paendrag. The proof of Rand being the prophesied saviour is his taking the Sword That Cannot Be Touched from a fortress called the Stone of Tear. Get it? 

Those are just a few examples. There are many more.

Though I didn't realize it at first, this is a lesson regarding something many new writers fear - I know I did. The fear of unoriginality, because your story involves elements of others.

The truth is that all stories contain pieces of what came before. The difference is in how you use them. E.g., there's a big difference between 'boy who casts spells with a wand at a school for wizards because magic is hidden from regular folk' and 'boy who casts spells with a wand in his basement at midnight because magic is illegal and the secret police will murder his family if they find out'. 

I just made that up. You get the idea.

The whole is far greater than the sum of its parts.

3. The Black Tower.

The second book I read in the Wheel of Time was the eighth. In a house where no one else read fantasy, I found it in my grandfather's bookshelf. This still amazes me. How's that for coincidence?

Comprehension-wise, it wasn't the best choice. Seven books makes a big difference. I found half of it confusing, and the rest shocking. Rand was a king now, he was fighting an empire, the White Tower was caught up in its own civil war, and so on.

But perhaps the biggest change was the violence. Rand had gone from a frightened village boy to a battle-hardened veteran, and the deadliest of the many forces under his control were the Asha'man - 'defenders of the Light' - the direct opposite of the Aes Sedai. An army of black-clad male channelers, trained specifically to use the One Power as a weapon. 

"I piled the bodies in a hollow. The horses, everything. I burned it all to ash. White ash that floated in the wind like snow. It didn't bother me at all." 

- Eben Hopwil, age sixteen, The Path of Daggers

Understand that at the beginning of the Wheel of Time, under the White Tower, using the Power as a weapon was unheard of. With the rise of the Black Tower - and the invading Seanchan Empire, with its enslaved female channelers -  it was now commonplace. Add to that the fact that many Asha'man were young boys, still in their teens, and the horror of war hung around them like a shroud.

That impressed me. In crafting my own soldier-mages, I admit to emphasizing that the potential for mass destruction should be feared - as the Asha'man were.

Particularly since many of them were going insane.

4. The taint.

The backstory of the Wheel of Time goes like this. Three thousand years ago, humanity lived in the Age of Legends, a futuristic utopia built on the One Power. The end began when man found evidence of another Power, completely forgotten in the Wheel's turning. In their ignorance, they bored a hole into the prison of the Dark One, antithesis to the Creator, and unleashed the Shadow upon the world.

The hero of the war that followed was Lews Therin Tellamon, called the Dragon. He led the resealing of the Dark One. However, his solution was flawed; he used only men. The Dark One was able to unleash a backlash that tainted the entire male half of the One Power. This drove every male Aes Sedai mad. In their madness, they annihilated modern civilization and reshaped the very face of the earth.

People remember because the taint is still there. Sooner or later, every male channeler goes insane - which is why the White Tower hunts them down.

Power corrupts - literally. 

The long-lost golden age has become a cliché in itself. But note that, unlike other ancient civilizations, the Age of Legends did not fall to some external enemy. Not directly. It fell from within; they destroyed themselves. The irony of that appealed to me.

That and the Power that caused it.

5. The True Power.

Though seen from the very beginning, the Shadow's powers were left unexplained for some time. Only in the seventh book are we given a full concept. The Dark One's magic, in direct opposition to the Creator's, is called the True Power.

Admit it. It's a cool name.

I found the contrast between the One Power and the True Power particularly interesting. How the latter would eventually kill the user, but could do things that broke the rules - like levitation. I was disappointed that it didn't play nearly as much of a role in the story. 

Well, technically it explained how the Shadow operated, from the Nazgul Myrddraal being able to warp through shadows, to the Dark One using vermin as spies. Someone else actually performs the latter at one point.

But unlike the One Power, the True Power could only be used with the direct permission of the Dark One. This was a major limitation. A handful of Forsaken - the Shadow's puppeteers and generals, who Rand spends much of the series fighting - are seen to use it in the latter half of the series.

Yet the only person to channel it consistently was the Shadow's equivalent of Rand. Ishamael - 'betrayer of hope' - first of the original Forsaken, and the Dragon's rival in the Age of Legends, reincarnated by the Dark One as Moridin - 'death' - to rival the Dragon Reborn. Fitting enough that the anti-messiah would use the dark side exclusively.

I wanted more than that. I started thinking, what if the dark side was every bit as important to the story as the light? What if the golden age fell not because a war left the light side corrupted, but because during the war, good people used the dark side themselves?

What if they used it and won? 

And then those good people turned on the rest - because the dark side should corrupt, after all - and the legend was born. But the knowledge was lost.

What if a central theme of the story is people using the dark side again?

I think I mentioned before that I like dark heroes.

After all. In the Wheel of Time, besides the Forsaken, the only other person to use the True Power is Rand himself.

Yes, all self-respecting second acts need a shocking climax.

This second post examined how the world and backstory inspired elements of my own. The third and final - yes, final - part will focus on what truly stays with you from all good stories: the characters.


*At first I said the word was never used at all. But then I found an instance where it is, by a member of a fallen people who have lost all knowledge of the One Power. It's the exception that proves the rule.

We Believe

There it was again: choose what to believe. Couldn't they see he wanted the truth?

- Adapted from JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Religion is flawed, but only because man is flawed.

- Dan Brown, Angels and Demons

I've never had a lot of faith.

I wonder if this would surprise people. I come from a Catholic family, though growing up my exposure was sporadic. I know the usual prayers, what to do during mass, and a smattering of biblical lore. But I'm not sure I could say that I have ever truly believed.

Now, I am not a hard-bitten sceptic, only believing in things I can see. Far from it. If you asked me if I believe in true love, I'd say yes, absolutely - with the caveats that there are a lot of potential true loves, and that love changes. I do believe in God, or I tell myself I do.

I say this because I like logical outcomes. Cause and effect, you know? Certainty. And I'm not certain about God. 

I'm aware that I am choosing to believe.

But I'm also aware that I'm still young, it's a big world out there, and there's a lot of things I haven't seen for myself. To say that my mindset will never change is naive. This is just a snapshot of where I am at the moment. I actually don't feel qualified to have an opinion on spirituality...so I'm not going to offer one.

I do, however, have an opinion on religion.

The Catholic Church's current stance is that members of other Christian denominations, and even other religions, can still attain heaven if their actions and beliefs are sufficiently in line with Catholic teachings. (Historically, this is a major improvement. Before the Second Vatican Council, everyone else was going to hell.) But the Church maintains that salvation can only truly come from them. 

But this is just one branch of Christianity - and also one religion. There are others out there, often as much traditional as spiritual - Judaism and Shintoism are excellent examples. Belief in our own rightness is hardly unique. Everyone thinks theirs is the true path*. So who's right?

Is anyone right?

Yann Martel's Life of Pi offers an intriguing solution. Pi, the boy who practiced Christianity, Islam and his native Hinduism at the same time, claims that all belief systems are simply vehicles of higher understanding - even atheism, whose god is Science. It doesn't matter so much what we believe in, as long as we believe.

He makes a good point. But the problem here is that what you believe can matter a great deal to those who think the most important thing in life is to be a good Christian, or a good Muslim, or a good Hindu. And I'm sorry, but it's not.

It's to be a good person.**

Now think about that. As a Christian, or a Muslim, or anything really; aren't you supposed to be a good person? It's one of the few things most religions share. So why am I making that distinction?

Because too often, we focus only on our differences.

In Mitch Albom's Have A Little Faith - a true story - the author's rabbi, who believed in interfaith relations, became friends with a priest. (Episcopalian, I think.) To demonstrate this, he invited the man into his synagogue to say a few words to the Jewish congregation. The priest thanked him, took the pulpit - and started pleading with the audience to convince their rabbi to accept Jesus Christ. He got tears in his eyes, saying the rabbi was a lovely person, and didn't deserve to go to hell.

I found that quite sad. This priest honestly believed his new friend was heading for eternal damnation, because he belonged to a different faith.

That's a fairly harmless example. Again: religions are not bad. They promote a moral standard - things like honesty, fidelity, compassion. They provide a sense of community. The danger lies in allowing our beliefs to become an excuse for violence - which happens time and time again.

It happened during the Crusades, when European Christians slaughtered their way across the Holy Land. It happened during the Partition of India, in rioting between millions of Hindus and Muslims. It's happening right now, with the so-called Islamic State committing daily atrocities which the Muslim world condemns as crimes against Islam.***

I'm lucky enough to live in a place where religious harmony is a fact of life. (It's not perfect, but what is?) But there are so many places in the world where this isn't so. And it should be.

A friend of mine, a Muslim, once told me about the time he and a Christian friend traveled to West Malaysia, where boundaries are more rigid than in the East. They went out to eat, and before the meal they prayed together. The Muslim spread his hands for the doa; the Christian made the sign of the cross. People stared. The woman behind the counter even went over to ask if they were all right. We don't usually see this sort of thing, she said.

The pair smiled and answered, you do where we're from.

I can get behind that.

I may not be sure about belief in my own religion. But I do believe in tolerance. A little respect goes a long way. Some of us know this, and stories like this give me hope that others can learn. It may be naive, but I really do believe that in spite of all our differences, we can still gather behind the one thing we have in common. I believe we can put our humanity first. 

I believe in us.

What do you believe?

*Though incidentally, not all religions are so, shall we say, pushy. Shintoism doesn't mind whether you believe or not, and converting to Judaism is notoriously difficult. It's probably why each is restricted to the Japanese and Jewish peoples, respectively.

**Years ago, I read an interview in Reader's Digest with a female entrepreneur. She spoke about going to a Christian school as a girl, and the nuns telling them to be good for the love of Jesus. This woman asked why they couldn't just do good because it was the right thing to do. It got her in trouble. And I remember thinking, but why was she wrong? It made perfect sense to me.


***To state the obvious: it's interesting to note that history is, in essence, cause and effect on a grand scale. The Crusades began when Jerusalem was seized by Muslim Turks, who massacred the Christians there, prompting Pope Urban II to call for a war of liberation. Religious conflicts in the Indian sub-continent are a cycle of perpetrator and victim that continues to this day. And the roots of Islamic terrorism are still being debated, with various opinions blaming exploitation of the Middle East by Western superpowers, crushing poverty, the idea that the the Muslim world is under siege by Western values, and inherent flaws within Islam itself. It's probably too soon to tell.

What I Know So Far

It's already been two months since my last birthday. 

It no longer surprises me, exactly, how fast time flies. Your memories just don't come with dates attached. There's forever that note of disorientation upon realizing what you're thinking of happened weeks or months or even years ago, when you could have sworn it was only yesterday.

Anyway. Now that I'm entering my mid-twenties, I thought I'd compile a list of the most important things I've learned thus far. This is in no particular order. Some I only found out recently and others I've known for years. None of them is a rule I live by 24/7; I'm not that good. But I aspire to, at least.

Because I hope you'll learn something here, I'm taking the imperative voice. *looks smug, then reminds self to be serious*

So here we go.

1. Be grateful.

This seemed like the most obvious one, so it goes first. Doubtless you've heard it before. But it's easy to forget. As human beings, we naturally tend to focus on problems and dissatisfactions, because these make up the pressing issues in our lives. But remember that what we take for granted - our house, our health, our education, our comforts, our loved ones - other people are praying for. Think about it.

2. Accept that nobody's perfect.

People make mistakes. They say and do hurtful things; they make choices you won't agree with. Everyone you know - and I mean everyone - is going to disappoint you sometimes. So don't take it personally when it happens. You can't expect people to be there for you all the time. 

Remember all the times that they were.

3. Don't hold grudges.

This is a complete waste of time. There are so many other uses for your energy. The wrongdoing of others may have affected you, but it doesn't define you - unless you allow it to. Life is short. Learn to let go.

And don't sing the song.

4. Know your flaws.

Remember when I said nobody's perfect? That includes you. Everyone has certain weaknesses, areas in which they struggle. For example: I can be absent-minded. I forget things easily. 

The key here is to struggle proactively.

Now I only keep certain items in certain places, so I'll always know where to look. I keep checklists in my head for routine tasks, and run through them more than once. I try to tie errands to specific times, people and places, because our brains remember by making connections, and thinking of those things might just remind me of the errand. And if all else fails, I set reminders on my phone. 

None of these methods is foolproof - I still forget things. But they help.

Recognize your own flaws, and take steps to correct them. You might never be a master at whatever it is, but you can improve.

5. Know your strengths.

I have a theory that our strengths and flaws are really just two sides of the same coin. You know why I'm absent-minded? Because I'm always thinking about something else. 

Like what I'm writing right now. What, you thought I was just pulling this stuff out of my ears? I planned this. I actually spend a great deal of my time ordering my thoughts. It sounds weird, but I'm pretty sure that's how you begin putting thoughts into words. 

That and I read a lot.

My point here is that balance exists. Just like there are areas where they struggle, everyone also has areas where they excel. Recognize your strengths, and take pride in them.

6. Have purpose.

This one's important. The core of a life well lived is feeling that you're doing things for the betterment of others - and yourself.

At my job we entertain, but also educate. I interact with new people every day. As an introvert, I was surprised to find this is something I enjoy (though it wears me out). It's certainly improved my social skills. We practice teamwork; each person plays a role. I get to work with animals. I get to work outdoors.

It could be a lot worse.

In my spare time I exercise my cerebral passions - I write and read. And I play video games. A shameless indulgence, that, but I enjoy them. That's a goal in itself. My point here is knowing the benefits of your day-to-day activities.

Find meaning in the things you do.

7. Acknowledge your actions.

Now, for everything you do, there are any number of things you're not doing. You can't complain about the house being filthy when you spend all your spare time playing video games. (Which I don't, otherwise how could I have written this?) You also can't complain about not having enough free time if you feel the need to scrub the floors twice a day.

Time is finite. Use it well.

8. Make friends.

Another one that seemed obvious, but I thought it deserved a mention. Being a lone wolf is cool and all. But wolves are social creatures, and so are we. Some basic courtesy, consideration, and respect for differing opinions will, if nothing else, leave others with a favourable impression of you. That makes a difference. Even if you don't want to be sociable, learn to fake it.

I'm not joking. Don't think you don't need people to succeed in life. You do. Repeat after me: it pays to be nice.

9. Appreciate being single.

This is probably the hardest one for me to practice. 

Don't get me wrong. I value having all this time to myself. *takes a deep breath* It just gets a little lonely sometimes.

There; I've bared my soul. Moving on.

Intellectually at least, I know this is valid. Romance and companionship are great. But the main thing that surprised me about being in a relationship was how much time it took up. (Which seems obvious in hindsight, but hindsight's a...bother.) Letting someone else into your life is a serious investment. Lacking someone else, you can do a lot more with yourself.

Though the song's annoying - don't sing it! - the movie has a point. You might be alone, but you're alone and free.

10. Have no regrets.

I said before that we need to find meaning in the things we do. We also need to find meaning in the things we've done.

I first came across this sentiment a long time ago, and it didn't make sense to me. I had regrets. How could I get rid of them, just like that? It was only recently that I understood that regretting things is pointless.

See, a regret is something about your past that you wish you could change. But you can't change the past. All any of us can do is move forwards.

So that thing you'd do differently. Either you're not going to do it again, or you'll realize you were wrong to regret it. Either way, it's taught you something. Such are the lessons of our lives. I'd like to think mine have made me a better person.

Don't have regrets. Have experiences.

To conclude: these are the things life has taught me.

What have you learned from yours?

A Tale of Skyrim

I'm back, devoted audience. Did you miss me?

Sooo partly to keep the blog going - *looks at how long it's been inactive and winces*; I'll get to that Wheel of Time post, I promise! - and partly as a writing exercise, and partly just for the fun of it, today I'm doing something a little different.

I've been playing The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim lately.

Here be dragons.

One of the first things that struck me about this game was the loneliness. The graphical style aims for realism, and in large part has you wandering through snowy forests, open tundra and haunted ruins alone. You'll feel relieved to stumble upon a new town or city, or to return to one you've already found, because you'll be back in civilization. 

Life feels fragile here. When attacked, characters die and stay dead because you didn't save them, or because you killed them. Danger lurks in the wilds, and sometimes in the cities too. You grow in skill and strength as the game goes on. But even with companions by your side, you'll never lose that sense of the world being a dangerous place, where you can only rely on yourself.

So yes - the game does take itself a bit too seriously. This is the epitome of high fantasy, albeit with a viking twist, so at least the accents aren't British. The sheer vastness of it threw me at first. 

But before long, the freedom to be who you like, go where you will and do whatever the hell you want won me over. Follow the main storyline to a T? You can do that. Focus on one of the secondary questlines first? That's fine too. Simply wander around killing draugr and collecting wildflowers? Go for it.

In fact, because this game is all about forging your own path, I realized that hardly anyone's path would be the same. Everyone would have their own story.

So I decided to write out my own.

I guess you could classify this as fan-fiction. All of the concrete elements belong to the game itself; I simply coloured them with opinions. For anyone who thinks my character sounds a little evil at times, well, what can I say. I have a preference for the darker heroes. They're so much more interesting.

All credit goes to the awesome people at Bethesda. The story is mine, but the world is theirs - and what a world it is.

---

I am a Dunmer. A dark elf, if you will.

Like so many of my people, I was fleeing another life. They said this was a frozen wilderness, wracked by civil war. I didn't care. It had to be better than what I left behind.

Of course, I didn't expect the dragons.

I was caught crossing the border, and learned the realities of the war firsthand. I'd stumbled into the company of rebels, you see. The Imperials would have had us all executed. I actually had my head on the block when the black roared in and started breathing fire over everything. In a way, it saved my life.

I suppose I should feel grateful.

In the chaos, one of the more polite Imperials actually helped me escape. The village was destroyed - but I was free. I started walking.

I won't bore you with what I've found in the wilderness, then or since - wolves and bandits and the odd nest of vampires. Obviously I've survived.

Like all Dunmer, I have an affinity for the elements. Fire and ice and lightning, nature in its purest forms: those that kill. I am simply a conduit, guiding that purity, directing it. This is - I admit - something I enjoy. It defines all of us so gifted. Our blood burns with it. We are destroyers.

But I can also pull out a sword if need be - one in each hand. I enchant them myself. The best defence is a strong offence, as they say.

I know what you're thinking. I am not one to strike from the shadows. I'm no paragon; I have stolen and murdered when the need arose. But I disdain thieves, and I despise assassins. The Dark Brotherhood will burn if I find them.

Ahem. Where was I?

I wandered for a time, learning trades, never staying in one place for long. There were always new sights to see. Yours is a beautiful land - and a harsh one. I met many in need of aid; I heard many sad stories.

And I saw how my people are mistreated.

I have nothing against Nords in general, you understand. Not all are bigots. The Jarl of Whiterun was quite courteous when, as a favor to that Imperial, I delivered a warning of dragons. Their housecarl was another Dunmer, no less. Would that we could all rise so far.

The rebels show no such respect. They see Dunmer as vermin plaguing their lands. What has Ulfric Stormcloak done for us? His grand ideals of independence are for the Nords alone. 

I met the man once. He was among the rebels to be executed before the dragon attack. Gods know how he got himself captured; I suppose even the mighty slip up now and again. Even then he exuded confidence. I disliked him on sight. A shame the dragon didn't kill him, but it seems he escaped as well.*

I have killed many dragons since then - and absorbed their souls. 

I still remember the first, on the outskirts of Whiterun. The warning I delivered was just in time.** Another flew in near a watchtower; of course I joined the defense. By chance, mine was the killing blow. Its body burned away in moments, leaving only bones - and the wind of another world passing through me. Into me.

And I gained the power of the Voice.

They call me the Dragonborn. One who can use the dragons' own power against them and cleanse the skies once and for all. Me! A dark elf, the saviour of Skyrim! What the patriots must think of that. 

A heavy burden indeed. Much like this mask I wear.

My true face? 

Why not. I have nothing to hide.

Younger than you expected? Oh my friend, don't be naive. None of us are young at heart.

I slay whatever dragons I find, of course. But I have larger concerns.

I journeyed to Solitude, the Empire's capital in Skyrim. Seat of the High King, before Ulfric Stormcloak murdered him in a hall of witnesses and then fled the city. Another nail in his coffin. The new Jarl still mourns; I pity her. So young to be a widow. But that is not why I made my choice.

You see, I swore the oath. I have joined the Imperial Legion. 

Our high-elven allies can be arrogant bastards. In fact, I killed one once who tried to press me about the Nordic god they so adamantly oppose. He annoyed me. 

I care nothing for this man who died and rose again, whom the Empire has outlawed. Yet I can sympathize with the rebels who worship him. The freedom to believe what you will - perhaps this is something worth dying for.

But I know that under the Stormcloaks, my people's lot will only worsen. The Empire treats all races equally. What more can we ask?

There is still much I wish to do. I hope to study at the College of Winterhold, and learn more of the powers I wield. Perhaps I will earn a name for myself as a warrior among the Companions. An enchanted blade is still a blade, yes? And of course, I must master the Voice and attempt to end the dragon threat.

Perhaps I will even find love.***

But above all else, I am a soldier of the Empire. And I will crush the rebellion, if I have to cast a spear of ice through the heart of Ulfric Stormcloak himself.

In fact -

I look forward to it. 


*I didn't meet him again in Windhelm. I'm supposed to hate his guts, after all.
** I'd already found the dragonstone before meeting the Jarl, so after handing it over, the game went straight to the dragon attack.
*** Yes, you can even get married.

---

Naturally, I'm already thinking about making another character to join the Stormcloaks and overthrow the Empire. Maybe I won't, if I'm satisfied with one playthrough. Again: this is a huge game. But maybe I will.

Maybe I'll write about it.

The Wheel Turns, Part 1

A few days ago, I finished reading A Memory of Light, the 14th and final book in the Wheel of Time. I had very high hopes. This was it, after all. This was the end. I'll have to read it again to get a clearer picture of the various plot threads and resolutions - or lack thereof - for analytical purposes. But overall, my impression of the end of the series was...

It was all right.

First, some background. I first came across the Wheel of Time when, while visiting a distant relative, I was invited to look over their college-bound son's books. Among them, he'd collected nine intriguingly fat books - each one more than two inches thick - from the same epic fantasy series. (The entire series, at the time.) That alone said something. I borrowed the first one, found the opening a little slow, was sucked in after a few chapters and burned through it, all 305,000 words, in four or five days.

I was eleven.

Since then, I have collected the entire series, reading through most instalments at least three times - the first book seven times in all, I think. I could tell you, from memory, the story arcs of all the major characters; I could summarize the cultures and beliefs of all of the major kingdoms and factions. This series was what made me want to become an author. This was the story that made me want to write my own. 

But...

For all its vast scope and intricate plot threads, epic magic and sweeping battles, my love for the series has waned in recent years.

It isn't the widely-panned flaws. I read most of the Wheel of Time in my teens. Back then, I didn't know enough to recognize them as such. Although...

In hindsight, the characters did get rather caught up in their own side-quests for the middle third of the series, the 10th volume being the worst offender. Except for the ending, plotwise, the book is absolutely pointless. (It's also the one I liked the least. Could you tell?) The author did speed things up again in the 11th, the last book he completed before his passing, and definitely among the best in the series. But still. 

While annoying at times, I found the way gender differences are played up amusing, if unrealistic. Other people found it offensive. 

Though there's nothing sexually explicit in the series...all the spanking was pretty weird.

And why exactly did the hero have three true loves? At the same time. I never liked that.

Nor is it the fact that the last three books were largely written by a different author. Considering how vast this series is, with its multitude of plot threads and characters, he did a pretty good job - though it was annoying how he couldn't get one of my favorite characters right. 

No, at the end of the day, the reason I don't care so much about the Wheel of Time anymore is that I've outgrown it.

There was a time when I drank this stuff in like an alcoholic bathing in wine, ignoring any peculiarities in flavor for the high. (I don't like wine. That's just a metaphor.) But that was before I started writing myself. I enjoyed the final book a great deal; as an epic conclusion, it worked well.

 But there was a part of me that read much more critically, looking for lessons to learn and mistakes to avoid - and finding them. Sometimes a meaningful death is better than being saved at the very last minute (the prologue). Too many action scenes too close together dull their impact (the middle). And leaving elements of the ending intentionally vague can be frustrating (the ending, obviously).

There was an author, I forget who, who said that once you learn to read with a writer's eye, it never leaves you. You'll never read a book the same way again. And I suppose that's what's happened here. Some of the magic has been lost, now that I know how to make my own. 

The Wheel of Time turns, and legends fade...

So that this already prodigious post doesn't get even longer - though that would be a fitting tribute to the series - I'm splitting it in two. This first part focused more on the flaws, the places where the magic failed. The second will examine those elements of the story that I adored, that made me want to keep reading, and that I can still see in my own writing to this day.

The Wheel of Time was, after all, the first series I truly cared about. (My first love. Heh.) It will always hold a special place in my heart. It inspired me. I remember reading one of the later books a few years back and thinking, I could do this. 

I can't think of a better legacy than that.