This is the time of year I make a pilgrimage to Uther’s Tomb as a means of remembering all the people who are no longer in game.
There is a part of me that feels that prompts like this are just cynical reminders that the smart people got out when they had the chance. I know full well that when enough distance is put between yourself and gaming, looking in is a very different experience than it is looking out. Having done that for myself, but also choosing to stay here (because I still enjoy playing and writing about the experience) makes for often painfully awkward disbelief at the comments I read on social media. The ‘them and us’ culture that exists is very real indeed, and sometimes it makes for difficult reading.
So many people try and make a living here that I have no desire to become persistently negative, because ultimately all that does is further fuel emotional exhaustion. Passion for gaming is pretty much essential to begin with, or else you’d never give these endeavours the attention you believe they deserve. However, what seems to happen is negatives for some always outweigh the positives, and that’s when everything becomes destructive. That’s why this part of my life has very much been labelled as ‘hobby’ going forward.
And yet, I still cannot help but feel a bit forlorn. I allow other people’s experiences to taint my own, because inevitably that is how it works. It is really tough to be 100% positive about this, all the time, because that level of investment is just as draining in its own way as being overtly negative, and yet that is what many people now expect to happen. That, for me, is simply not practical: what it means is that if I get into a phase where all I have is less than glowing praise, I’ll try my best to make a positive post about it, or the blog will just go quiet.
Now you know. If I can’t find a good word to say about Azeroth, I won’t say anything at all.