Moon of anger

Okay, before I really get into details, let me first exclaim that God of War III is, in most respects, a really good game.  The action is fluid and fun, the puzzles are clever and never annoying, and the overall scope of the game is massive.  All in all, it's one of the most epic games I've ever played (especially the opening sequence).  However, after finishing the game, it left a really bad taste in my mouth.

A quick heads up to anyone who hasn't played God of War III and plans on doing so, there will be spoilers in this post.

God of War III is the first installment of the series that I've actually played.  Going into this game, I was expecting things to get rather gratuitous, but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer amount of testosterone that was pumped into this game.  This game is straight up ruthless, to the point where it was off-putting to me, and not even just because of the violence.

Let me explain.  I am very fond of video games.  They have played a pretty significant role in my overall development as a person, and I prefer to treat them as "experiences" rather than as games.  Because of this, it bothers me when the majority of the populous automatically dismisses or bashes games.  Ignorance runs rampant in our day and age, and the video game industry is surrounded by it.  Most onlookers see video games as violent and disgusting forms of media which are always harmful when exposed to younger audiences.  To a point, I would agree - not all games are meant for all audiences, and some games should be kept away from people of varying maturity levels.  However, not all games are the horrid things that outsiders stubbornly make them out to be.  Games are becoming more and more sophisticated, and this is very pleasing to me.  With every new, intelligent or creative game that is released, we as gamers have another piece of evidence to defend the industry.  This is why it pains me when a game such as God of War III is released.

God of War III, in my opinion, has little to no level of sophistication.  The main draw of this game is it's gratuitous and violent nature.  This would sit fine with me if our society wasn't so puritan and critical of the industry, but the fact of the matter is that this game is going to be used as an example for all the haters.  I thought about it for a long time, and if someone were to start arguing with me about violence in games using God of War III as an example, I wouldn't be able to counter their argument on this particular game.  The thing is, all of the brutality in the game is completely unnecessary.  There is no underlying moral, and the game teaches almost nothing of value.

For the entire game, the main character, Kratos, is hell bent on revenge.  It is his main driving force, and his character never develops beyond that.  One of my friends tried to argue the point that Kratos drops his thirst for vengeance at the end of the game when he kills himself, but that's not actually true.  Kratos does kill himself, yes, but only after he kills Zeus, the source of his vengeance the entire time.  So in the end, Kratos never really abandons his revenge, he only takes his own life after he satisfies it.  That's hardly a moral in my opinion.  To go along with that, I have no way of relating to Kratos in any way.  I just don't really understand the types of people who really enjoy ruthlessly pummeling the face of an adversary in for minutes at a time.  Aside from the initial shock value or possible underlying humor, it's completely unnecessary.

I wanted to like God of War III, I really did, but it's games like these that force the industry take a step backward.  The game has great shock value, and it's incredibly imaginative, but in the end, it's going to be a blemish on the industry overall, as the ignorance of all the stubborn outsiders will have a field day with this game's brutal nature.

I hate using the argument, "It's just a game" to combat people who bash video games, because that's not the point.  However, in this case, it's the only defense I have.

It's just a game

*sigh*

Sometimes, it's about intimidation

A thought has been trapezing through my head recently, and I feel compelled to write about it.  What I've been pondering on is the role that intimidation has played in my collegiate career.  I, like most people, do not enjoy the feeling of being intimidated; however, I feel as though it has played a significant role in developing some of my beneficial attributes.

Back when my transfer into business school was accepted, I had no idea what I was doing.  Since I gained admittance halfway through the academic school year, I was pretty much cast off on my own to figure things out.  There was no orientation program, no email telling me who my advisors were, and most importantly, no congratulatory business padfolio to welcome me into the school (I had to buy one myself, and I feel that I'm entitled to a $20 reimbursement, SUNY Binghamton).

So there I was, a fresh, willing, ambitious business student with no guidance (or at least no idea where to start first).  My email account was getting swarmed with business listserv messages and I hadn't the faintest idea on how to piece it all together.  In retrospect, I realize that all I had to do was sit down and read the emails, but I was intimidated by the seemingly chaotic nature of my new life.  I would pretend that these emails didn't pertain to me, and I'd delete them all.  I used to see people, other students, dressed up in business attire, going to the job fairs/presentations on campus to make some lasting first impressions.  I'd lie to myself and say that it wasn't time for me to worry about getting a job or making myself known.

I was scared.

I was intimidated by all these people, clad in their tie bar and cuff link armor, ready to get their feet in the door and then punch it off it's hinges.  These people were my competition for a job, and I didn't want to compete.  All I wanted to do was curl up into a corner and let Goliath just beat the shit out of David.  I was crippled by shame.

Then something changed.  It was as if a switch flipped inside me and all my fear was abandoned.  It was time to go out and face this challenge that was presented to me.  It wasn't even so much about finally competing for a job; it was about going out and learning for myself what it was that I had to do to succeed.  I started forcing myself to go out to  resume workshops, firm presentations and job fairs.  And you know what?  Before I knew it, I was a confident student who was competent in business literacy and etiquette.

I don't know what changed me exactly, but I think it might be that I realized that my fear was irrational.  So then my question is, would I have ended up where I am if my intimidation was never present?  I'm not so sure that I would.  In this case, my intimidation was a driving force to the development of my courage and overall maturation.  I feel as though my fear helped foster my desire to overcome any challenge that had the cojones to stand in my way.  This is how I like to think about it:  My intimidation was my incubator, and the realization of it's irrational nature was the catalyst that set me free.

Kindof neat, huh?

So now I want you all to do something.  The next time you're intimidated, I want you to admit it to yourself, and then literally ask yourself why you feel that way.  Odd's are that you won't be able to come up with a logical answer to that question.  I find that whenever I do this, I almost immediately gain an overwhelming sense of courage.

Go ahead, try it out.

I dare you.

Hello Goodbye

Before I begin, I just want to say that I'm going to be somewhat serious about what I have to say.  Even though the topic may come off as a bit humorous, that isn't really my primary intention.

About a week ago, my good friend's Ford Escort Wagon kicked the bucket.  I was walking back to my room when I noticed that he had stalled out in the middle of a parking lot, so I went over to go help him out.  Unable to get his car started again, we ended up pushing it into an empty parking spot, and my friend had it brought to a mechanic the next day to have it diagnosed.  Unfortunately, his car was beyond repair; the next steps to be taken involved recovering his possessions from the car, and to scrap the vehicle.

So yesterday, my friend and I headed over to the mechanic to clean out his car, and on the way there, my friend said to me,

Matt, I just want you to know that you might see me cry today.

We both laughed at his joke, but oddly enough, we both knew that there was still some seriousness to it.

When we arrived at our destination, we proceeded to strip his car of all the items that he had accumulated over the years.  I asked my friend why he had so much junk in his car, and he told me that he used to go to the dollar store every week with a friend, and they would buy anything that they thought was really cool or goofy.  This event came to be known as "Dollar Store Wednesdays".  I thought about that for a long time, and the act of dismantling his car started to develop a strange feeling.  Each possession, be it valuable or a piece of junk, had some kind of sentimental value.  When you think about it, everything in his car came attached with a memory, and the dismemberment of his vehicle signified the end of a period in his life.

When we were finished, my friend wanted to have one more moment alone with the Escort.  He got into the driver's seat and just sat there, solemnly, making one last memory.

It was then that I walked over to my car, who I call "Brenda".  I started thinking about the day when she would inevitably break down, and what that would be like for me.  Like my friend, I too have had many good times and memories in that car.  And the truth of the matter is that if I end up living in the city, which I intend on doing, I might never buy another automobile, which would make Brenda the only car I ever own.

I understand that because I tend to personify my car all the time, I may have grown more attached to it than most people, but Brenda has been a part of my life for 6 years, which is pretty significant considering how young I am.  I estimate that she will probably last me a total of 10 years, and by that time I will be 26 years old.  If you look at those numbers, that means that I will have had Brenda for more than a third of my lifetime.  Can you think of anything that has been in your life for that long?  A stuffed animal maybe?  I mean sure, they are inanimate, but when something has been a part of your life for so long, it's hard to imagine not having it around.

I tend to joke that Brenda is "the most reliable woman I've ever met", but there is some truth to that statement.  Her and I have gone through a lot, and I consider her to be my noble companion.  When she's gone, I'm going to miss all of our times of adventure.

Saying goodbye to my friend's car was oddly emotional, and I feel as though it will be very somber and melancholy when Brenda's time comes.  I'm going to miss her, I really am.

 RIP, The Escort