I think a getting-to-know-me blog is a little past due on my end, so I hope this helps you understand where I come from as a gamer. My father got an Atari a little after I was born. He and a good friend used to compete in those Asteroids and Galaga tournaments back when arcades actually had substance and the games were impressive. His friend was so good at these games that he could walk outside, have a smoke, and still have more than 50 lives remaining when he returned. Back then he was considered a lazy person who lacked passion, but if he had been born today he’d be considered a “cyberathlete” for his feats of video-game prowess. This brings me to an interesting realization: the world is a random place, and so am I.

Growing up the way I did, I was lucky to be paired with a friend with whom, like my father, I was able to play games on occasion. I was there when he beat Final Fantasy, and he was here when I beat Metroid, with both of us laughing about the Ninja Turtles later that same morning. We never really spoke about games outside each other’s houses after we reached a certain age, and as my own brother and his started to get to the age of virtual awareness, they too followed suit. It wasn’t really taboo per se, but we didn’t want to fall into the same social demographic as the dudes who sat around talking about their level 11 half-elven ranger illusionists during lunch. It just wasn’t who we were at the time, and gaming wasn’t as mainstream as it is now; you didn’t go around mentioning it like it was socially acceptable.

This aspect of life might have formed a rift between my two sides, leading to some sort of identity crisis. I was like a frosted mini-wheat from hell. The one side wanted some sort of social acceptance and acknowledgment for what I was, while the other side went to war with the world, smoking, drinking underage and getting into fights at punk shows. This started my three-year period of straying from the gaming industry as a whole and doing whatever felt right at the time. Spending most of my time being obnoxious and in parental incarceration, I found myself with nothing to do; I refer to this period as The Bore. Most people in my situation would’ve found God or some other deity to follow. I found Vonnegut. Literally. In a box while cleaning the basement.

Slaughterhouse 5 gave me common ground with my father and something to talk about. Out of his surprise that I had read a book without being told to, let alone understanding it completely, my privileges started coming back. Some of the rage in me had started to subside thanks to this, leading me eventually to who I am now. I stopped going to shows just to pick a fight or get myself bloodied and started going for the underlying message. Forgetting about this in a downward spiral, I had realized that all of the greats from The Ramones and The Clash down to Operation Ivy and The Murphys were all preaching the same message of unity and being yourself. As silly as it might sound, things started making sense again, and I gave up caring what others thought. The clearing of my head led me to realize the people who I was hanging around with weren’t who I was anymore. I was changed.

I had a second virtual awakening one night while talking to a bloke my age at a diner in a city where two of Vonnegut’s novels took place, and I doubt this was coincidence. He looked a lot like me and talked with a thick New York accent, so I was pretty surprised when halfway through our conversation he asked me if I had ever played EverQuest. Having never really played, but hearing of the game, I wondered if it was for me as he continued on, taking only a pause to drag a cigarette between sentences. I was 18 at the time, and this was likely one of the few conversations I’d ever had about gaming outside of my circle. Fascinated by the concept of this game, I continued listening until 2 am rolled around. He was visiting a girlfriend at a local college and couldn’t sleep, but he had to take off before she realized he had taken a walk. He left me a couple of smokes and picked up my tab, telling me that if I ever checked the game out to get in contact with him for some items.

Involved isn’t really the word I’d use to describe EverQuest. It was a drug to me, much better than any other questionable thing I did to try and have a good time. I managed to balance my playing time with doing other activities, and strangely, I wasn’t getting into trouble anymore. Like most players of MMOs, I moved on to what was the next best thing at the time. These days I’m glad I embraced my need for fantasy and fun through video games; it helped quiet a voice in me that felt the constant need to rebel. Tomorrow, I’ll likely find myself smirking as either of my sons plays their vtech devices, knowing that I’m raising the next generation of gamers. It’s comforting to know that gaming, a long string of random events, punk rock and chance meetings helped me grow up in a world I never thought I’d be accepted in. Every now and then I still get an e-mail from the bloke from the diner. His handle is drstrangelove79. How random is that?