It's funny.
I thought I'd be more upset after the whole thing. Removing everyone from the server that broke the rules.
They were pretty simple.
Help eachother achieve goals.
No hard carries.
No exploits.
Blind run new content and hunt the secrets.
"What's a hard carry?"
"Ah, someone not contributing to the activities. Either sitting in the corner not participating or refusing to help with game mechanics when it takes a team to do it. Sure there are people out there that can solo content but if I wanted to solo content I'd just play single player games. Which I often do."
"So you just booted everyone out?""
"Mostly. Some left when they realized other people had been removed. But I didn't enforce my bounderies for too long and people got used to crossing them. The one title I never earned was Sword Bearer. All because of a challenge to get it done required focused team work. I know a couple people that lucked out with LFGs to do the challenge but I'd done more than enough time in those trenches trying to pull people together team. To build a group taht wanted to do the hard stuff. That I thought if I asked for help with something that required a team they'd come together for it. But in the end, they didn't. Hell, I was left hanging so often thinking I'd done something wrong. When the truth of the matter was, they got what they wanted out of me and left me on read when I asked for help."
"So what now then?"
"Well, there's a couple folks that wanted to play D&D that I'm running a game for in VR. I didn't think I'd ever want to play another rpg like that, let alone run one, but here I am doing the thing. It got me writing again, which is a whole different animal all together. I always knew I'd write. Can't really help it, it's the only way I really know how to organize my thoughts."
"Do you have a goal in mind for that?"
"Yeah show my chops, maybe get paid in the end."
"Paid how?"
"Well my tip Jars have been open this whole time thinking that if I worked hard enough I might end up with something in them, but with the whole Destiny thing I just felt like I was paying people to game with me instead of the other way around."
"You expected people to pay you to play a Video Game with them?"
"Na, I hoped people would pay me for the writing. For the editing, for the work I did. But why pay somebody when they're already doing it for free right?"
"Aren't you afraid that's what's going to happen with this D&D group?"
"Yeah, at first."
"What changed your mind?"
"The fact that I was motivated to write again. That this story that's been rattling around in my head for so long is finally getting the holes filled, the loose ends tied off, and words to paper for it. Even if nothing comes of it I at least finally wrote the story."
"What's missing?"
"Well, I wrote the end. Which is where I usually start. I"ve outlined the major beats, written exerpts and built the lore. Now it's just a matter of fillin in the missing pieces. Making sure the way I present things makes sense, is grounded, and pays homage to the insperations rather than just being a copy of a copy of a copy."
"How much work have you put into it so far?"
"Well...Since I started? Nearly every waking hour I'm not writing on this blog or doing chores around the house. Hell some days I go strait from the bed to the keyboard or into VR for insperation and research."
"Think you'll something will come out of it in the end."
"I hope so. I don't have anything else left. Just a bunch of toys no one wants. Some comics and cards I could probably sell if worse came to worse. Which it looks like it is. And I haven't even had the time to read the comics yet."
"Didn't you already sell your comics off once?"
"Yeah, most of them, all of the ones from mmy child hood. Gave up my reaserarch library. All of the paperbacks and novels I spent my allounace on as a kid. Hell, the only reason I have any of the stuff I do now is because I stopped drinking and started taking better care of myself. But people don't like Sober Jack because Sober Jack doesn't hide the pain from them. Sober Jack doesn't laugh off the fucked up jokes that aren't really jokes."
"Do you ever miss it?"
"What?"
"Drinking, partying, going out with people."
"No. Hell I didn't even like it when i was doing it. I just thought I had to. Often was forced to. I'm perfectly comfortable with my own company. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Yeah. I've always been made to feel lazy, like I wasn't working hard enough. that if I just worked a little harder then all my dreams would come true. So I did. Got up earlier than every body else, trained harder, studied more, last one to go to bed but I realized over this last year, working on a broken hand and foot and still keeping up with everyone else. That it didn't matter how hard I worked because as long as I worked that hard for free no one was going to pay me for it."
"So you're not working for free anymore?"
"Na, just part of who I am. What I'm not doing for free anymore is hurting myself. Pretending I"m okay to make people feel comfortable."
"So what's the plan then man?"
"Write. Edit. Write some more. I've got about a weeks worth of food and water left. Maybe less depending. So I'm going to write until I run out."
"then what?"
"Fucked if I know. Starve again probably because the banks aren't budging and I'm out of stuff to sell that anyone would want to pay anything for. I don't have the materials to craft anything to sell. And hell, even if I did I don't have a place to sell 'em so...."
"So what? You just give up?"
"Apparently because not giving up hasn't gotten me anything but taken advantage of. I live in a place that where I'm not valued as a person, where my writing is nothing someone couldn't just have an AI spit out for them as I've been reminded of over and over. So yeah. Maybe I will just give up. I've tried everything else."
"You're just feeling this way because of what time of year it is."
"Probably, but it doesn't make any of it less true."
"Well, you do have a ..."
"Shut the fuck up. I don't want a pity party. I want stability, the ability to support myself. A way of paying my bills and rent that isn't going to keep destroying my body."
So you write?"
"So I write."
