What Would I Write If I Wrote for Myself?
Just a note, this is not really about RPGs, but about writing in general.
My mind goes down one of those dark holes frequented by writers of romantic fantasy. It would be bloody, and brooding, and erotic, and perhaps occasionally thoughtful.
That's all taboo though. Forbidden. Hard-wired into my brain as a line "thou shalt not cross."
As if being human were evil.
The human experience is one of curiosity. We step over lines to see what happens, to see what's hidden. Sometimes we find the line was there to protect us.
Lesson learned.
Sometimes we discover the line was there because we needed to be made afraid.
Every flashlight seller wants you to fear the dark.
Lesson learned.
This is a blog about games, specifically RPGs. TTRPGS are a blending of story and procedure and crossing lines to see why they're there.
If I begin my party in a cute little town built around a forbidden temple, do you know where they want to go?
It's usually not over to Mrs. Humphrey's for tea (though she is delightful, really).
They hear "forbidden" and they lock-on like sharks after blood.
We are natural born line-crossers.
Suppress it. Suppress it.
Of course, if I were even to attempt to cross the line, I think I would regret it. I hesitate even to write freely on my own blog.
Suppress it.
Fuck it.
I do know a thing or two.
Evil exists. It is the force of consumption and destruction. "BUY AND EAT, FOR TOMORROW WE DIE." We stain our teeth with our brothers' blood. Fear, scarcity, the belief that we must compete against our kin or lose what little we have. The belief that the one who speaks or sings differently than I do is not my kin, despite the mirror image I see in them of my own fears and hopes.
If evil exists, and here I have said it does, then good exists too. Evil destroys good. If it did not, it would not be evil. Good exists in care. I was raised in a tradition that told us God entrusted humanity to rule over and care for creation. Stewardship, we called it. Cain asks, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Aren't you? We are both creation and steward of creation. We are our brothers' keepers. We are the stewards of the world, our siblings included.
As we care for the world, it cares for us. There is the balance. And I mean that now not as a creed or a statement of some divine truth, though one could perhaps take it that far. I only mean the plain truth of what can be seen with our eyes. The love we give away has a way of returning to us.
So what then of those desires I called dark? That hole occupied by fantasy romance authors that I intended to crawl down?
What is this violent and sexual part of me I am so quick to press down? Is it evil?
What are those wishes, really?
- To end evil and purposeless suffering. I wish it were as easy as fantasy makes it seem: slip a knife across the demon king's throat. But the demon kings of our own world are not easily reached, and like a hydra, if you cut off one head, two more seem to spring up.
- To love and be loved. To be the brother someone keeps, the object of someone's adoration, to add joy and comfort and ecstasy to someone's life, and receive the same in turn.
If I wrote erotica, it would be wrapped up in relationship. No pizza boys kicked to the curb before the cheese congeals. They snuggle and share the pizza after, and she tells him about the stupid dream she had the other night. He listens and agrees it was a stupid dream, but a beautiful one. She orders the same pizza the following week.
If I wrote a blood-soaked novel, it would not be blood for blood's sake. Change is possible, but not by the blade alone. We are all a part of the demon king's system, and until we unbend the knee--until we take the responsibility upon ourselves to ensure that those systems we benefit from do not subjugate our neighbors--we will never see real justice done.
I Was Taught
A thousand fears. do not, do not, do not.
Don't be too feminine, or too macho, don't share too much, don't be so quiet. Suck in your gut. Don't stare. Make eye contact. Don't talk to people outside the church. Go evangelize. Don't be so preachy. And on, and on, and on, until one could not take a step, really, could not go a single minute, even 30 seconds, without offending God.
Before the walls of my fear-based "faith" came utterly crashing down, I picked a verse.
"He has told you what is good. What does the Lord require of you? Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God."
Justice - Seek a fair society.
Kindness - Care for your weaker neighbor.
Humility - Do not assume you are better than anyone else.
This really seemed to be the thrust of the prophets and of Christ. Didn't Jesus preach of the imminent kingdom of God: a society where the lame are healed, the blind see, and the poor rejoice? Didn't he--the leader of this movement--reportedly allow himself to be crucified to save whores, zealots, and thieves?
Justice. Kindness. Humility.
No one liked these sermons. [SMASH]
But the gays and the commies and the perverts and the rioters and the infidels and the immigrants and the-
We were not people of justice, kindness, or humility. We were cowards defined by our fear.
So what are you now?
Oh, I'm still a coward. I am terrified of being alone, of being found unworthy. I aim more for what I think others want than what is true, hoping to swindle them into thinking I'm a worthy part of their community. I fear I'll soon be found out.
That cowardice is deadly poison, but I take a daily dose.
A cocoon.
A dear friend (Really, he is. It's not a charade, or a less real thing because we talk only online. He is my friend whom I love. Enough of this fear.) told me, "You must hatch from your insecurities like a bursting butterfly."
I am good at things. I do know a thing or two.
I am trying to hatch.
But honesty is such a daring thing to do.