Because you don’t already have enough books
Wool (trilogy) - Hugh Howey (disturbingly prescient)
Ishmael - Daniel Quinn - (truth bombs galore)
virtually anything by Chuck Palahniuk (Choke and Rant being high on the list)
same for Derrick Jensen (Endgame, A Language Older than Words, etc)
My Favourite Game
I grew up playing Roller Coaster Tycoon, Age of Empires plus various iterations and expansions, Monopoly, Zoo Tycoon, etc etc. My brother and I would often get into fights over whose turn it was on the computer.
Later on, I spent countless hours on game sites, playing in-browser flash games etc. I don’t even remember the names of any that I spent weeks on end playing.
When I was 12 or 13, or somewhere thereabouts, my parents got my brother and I our first console: a PS2. We had several super-tame games like Harry Potter, Ty the Tasmanian Tiger, chess, Who wants to be a Millionaire, etc. All single-player or split-screen at most. Nothing multiplayer. Games like Crash: Burnout and Ace Combat 4 were the most violent we were allowed. We led a sheltered life, to say the least.
Hanging out at my buddy’s place, we would play all kinds of Super Mario, Banjo Kazooey, etc. He had (most of) the latest consoles and played endlessly. Mostly I would just end up watching him play cause he was so much better than me.
High school happened; I was hyper-focused on classes and getting good grades, because I didn’t really know anything else. Eventually I started spending more time with friends outside of school; even went to a few ‘parties’. It was fun hanging out with members of the opposite sex, even if I was awkward as all hell.
Last year of high school I got a laptop, ostensibly for use at university. Then I discovered Minecraft. *Super* early days Minecraft. I was in love. It was like legos, but infinite. The endless stream of griefers on the servers was frustrating to say the least (and I admit I fell to their level on occasion). If I recall correctly, I spent that entire summer playing Minecraft. Or perhaps it was the summer after first year Uni. That would explain why my mom was so mad at me for not trying to find a job. Why bother getting a job when I could spend countless hours constructing my own universe that didn’t involve the painfully boring slog of work, or the anxieties induced by interacting with other people unmediated by a screen or chat interface?
Second year of university, I lived with my first-year roommate. He introduced me to Call of Duty: Black Ops, various single player RPGs (we lined up to get Skyrim, and I played so much that I accidentally overwrote his progress with all my saves - somehow he managed to forgive me). We spent an inexcusable amount of time playing everything together. Needless to say, my grades fell off a cliff, and I dropped out of university in second term of that year. I went back mid summer to ‘try to find a job’ and pick up school where I had left off, but I failed miserably; the gaming continued unabated.
My friend introduced me to League of Legends at some point, and once I got hooked on that, I was done for. At first I couldn’t comprehend why anyone would spend money on a completely free to play game, but I eventually fell into Riot’s nefarious traps and over the following years sunk several hundred dollars into skins and such. It was fun though. Why deal with the rapidly compounding stresses and challenges of social anxiety and mounting clinical depression, financial insecurity, falling grades, and the increasingly terrifying rush into the adult world, when I could just drown it all with epic battles in a virtual arena?
I gave up completely. I moved back home, and somehow convinced my parents that League of Legends was my last remaining connection with my university buddy, so was allowed to keep playing it. He eventually sold (or gave?) me his X-Box and I took up playing Skyrim again. Long after he had moved on to better things, I continued playing Skyrim, League of Legends, and Minecraft. I sank deeper and deeper into depression and gained weight at an unreal speed; I was literally doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and gaming. After a year or two of this absolute insanity and my parents’ (and my own) increasing frustration at my seeming inability to move forward, I started down the slippery slope of self-harm, and eventually ended up in hospital. I got a bit better, went home, and almost immediately tried to kill myself. Back to the hospital for several weeks (months, perhaps?).
After overcoming that absolute hell, I spent another solid chunk of time at home. Strict limits on game time and internet access until I could find a job. When I continuosly pushed those limits, I was cut off completely.
I started writing, and started walking (a lot). Felt great to lose all that weight and be so prolifically creative (even if the bulk of what I was writing centered on League of Legends). It was fantastic. But I still didn’t have a job. Eventually it got to the point where I had to apply to an agency that helps disadvantaged and disabled folks find employment. It worked! I got a job. A really shitty, abusive, low-paying retail inventory job. But I was finally making money again!! Social life was happening! I was making friends with the people I was working with! I got my first smartphone with some of the money I was earning to stay connected to them. Pokemon Go came out, and we were all hooked. Then somewhere along the line there was a change; my mental health started declining again (perhaps I was neglecting my medication and/or sleep?). Somehow all these people who I thought were my friends turned on me as I got increasingly agitated and upset at being left out of everything. After a few awful and downright embarassing incidents at work, I quit.
After a few months of moping around at home again, I managed to get a manufacturing job through a temp agency in a different city. It was straight up agony to sit there and put stacks of solar cells into loading trays to be fed into a machine for hours at a time, on top of trying to find a place to live. I don’t think I lasted a week. I went back home and fell straight back into a black depression, and the gaming came back hard, even if it was just on my phone this time. After a few months of this, my parents set a hard deadline; I would be kicked out if I didn’t find a job. This motivated me to try a new temp agency, and I found the job I’ve been working at for coming on 4 years now. I got a car within a year, and found an apartment shortly thereafter. My co-workers convinced me to get a PS4 (in fact, one of them sold his spare console to me), and we played endless rounds of Fortnite (again, I dumped an unconscionable amount of money into a free to play game), Call of Duty, and even built a world in Minecraft on PC together. I dated a couple of girls who shared my interest in gaming; nothing lasted. Then there was, shall we say, an incident and one of my “friends” (the team lead at work) stabbed me in the back, turned the others in our circle against me to try to cover up his own manipulative and frankly sickening behaviour, and two solid years of friendship went down the shitter in a couple of weeks. I thought I was going to be forced out of yet another job. Sans friends, the gaming continued.
Then came the pandemic.
I’ve sworn off gaming altogether a few times, yet I still find myself falling into slumps on a regular basis. I’ve completely sworn off League of Legends and sold both my consoles, but I still often find myself spending upwards of 10-15 hours per week between fairly mindless phone games and a couple of open world sandbox/RPG type PC games.
The thought that has been lodged in my head for a couple of weeks now (and gaining a good amount of traction and influence) is that I have more memories set in virtual environments, of battles, defeats, wins, of epic ganks, brilliant plays, long shots, and unbelievable comebacks in League of Legends, CoD, Apex Legends, and Fortnite, of time spent exploring the vast and enchanting wilds of Skyrim and the wastelands of Fallout 4 (and 76!), of vanquishing trolls, draugr, and dragons, of killing mobs, spiders, and pigs, of losing all my diamonds cause a damned creeper blew me into lava (again!), of building colossal monuments, forts, and incredibly complex bases in Minecraft, Fortnite, and Valheim, than memories of things I’ve actually done with real people in real life. I’ve spent so much of my life escaping from the often painful realities this world presents that my mind is filled with more memories of pixels on a screen than memories of the real world.
I turned 30 this month. It’s time to stop screwing around and start playing the greatest game of all time: Real Life. It might be an absolutely excruciating grind; pay to win, packed with trolls, cheaters, and hackers; set in a half-baked dystopian future that’s griefed all to shit; full of impossibly difficult battles, infuriatingly stupid bosses, and levels that you get stuck on for years and even decades before you break through; you might lose all your progress to a freak accident, natural disaster, or cruel twist of fate, but it is the only game that matters. And there are no extra lives. No auto-saves. No resets. No do-overs.
Stop wasting your life on games.
Start playing to win.
Finally finished following false Facebook “friends’” flimsily fabricated faultless façades;
Facets falsely flash florid, fleeting frissons: farcically foolish fads, flippantly funny frivolities, flattery-fraught flirtations, flagrantly facetious fulminations, frightfully fretful forebodings, famous female fetishization; frankly, far from fascinating.
Facebook's formidable framework features formulaic facilities for furtively filtering followers’ feeds, force-feeding fatuous followers fetidly faulty fodder, falsehoods framed favourably; forgeries fester; flagrant flim-flam flourishes; factual fidelity falters, forfeited for facile fairy-tale fantasies.
Facebook's fractally fallacious, fetid, festering forum forcibly furthers filthy, flagrantly fictitious frequencies; fractiously facilitating false "facts", fertilizing fodder for formidable fearmongers (frequently fiendishly fraudulent, faithless fascist fundamentalist figureheads feigning faithfulness), fervently, furiously fingering fault-free foreigners, frightening fearfully faithful followers; fomenting frustratingly foolish, fruitless, futile fights;
Foolhardy fringe factions flourish, festering, fertilizing false fatalism; fanatical foes' fiery feuds follow, faces foaming: fisticuffs, fractured femurs, fusillades; fearsome firepower found, fatal firefights follow.
Freedoms foregone, forfeited, forced furtively from fine friendly fellows' fists; federal fascists, fumbling, faltering, feverishly forestalling forthcoming failure, follow former Führer's footsteps, forbidding freedom; Facebook faithfully facilitates, foiling freedom fighters, fingerprinting firebrands, feeding false "facts", foreshadowing frighteningly formidable fascist forces' forthcoming.
Fortunately, found fresh, fantastically fancy, formal forum for fostering fruitful fellowship;
Finding formidably fluent friends from foreign fields feels fabulously fun!
Finally, freedom from fruitless frivolity!
Finding functionality, forming friendships, fostering freedom.
Fellow freedom fighters (fiesty feminists, flamboyant fellows, fierce firebrands...), forthright, feel freely, fervently, fiercely, forcefully;
Facing forever forward; floating fearlessly, flying;
Forging fresh fates from flickering flames.
Faculties, fecund, *finally* flourishing!
(Forewarning: following facilitates face fluids' flow; fortify first.)
Fondness for flora fading fast; flowers forgotten, forests' foliage falling.
"Foresters" frequently fell fertile forests, forming feedstock for fuelling factories' foul, filthy furnaces, foundries;
Freighters from faraway factories forge forward frictionlessly, fossil-fueled, ferrying flimsy fare: forest frontiers fall forever faster for forcefully foisted fad-following furniture, futons, flooring, functional fixtures, fairy-tale fences, fanciful figurines, filigreed finials; fabricated first, foremost, for farcically fattened, frighteningly feebleminded folk.
Finding financial frugality far from fantastic, frequent fliers fling funds freely, finding fresh fields for fornicating. Forsooth! Frequent flying flings fossil fueled fires' foul fumes frighteningly fast. Furthermore, frequent flying facilitates fatal flus' far-flung flourishing. Forthwith, forego fanciful flights, friends.
Fossil fuel financiers' fiendishly foisted "fossil-fuel footprint" farce fosters false feelings from fine, friendly folk. Forget "fossil-fuel footprint" - first, foremost, finger fossil fuel factories, fossil fuel financiers, fossil fuel foisters.
Fossil fueled, fossil fluid-filled freighters forge forever forward, feeding fractionating factories; fractionating factories forge fossil fuels from fossil fluids, forever feeding fossil-fueled fires, flinging foul, fetid fumes forever farther. Fossil fluid ferriers frequently fail, fractured fuselages foundering, fast-flowing fossil fluid flurries forever fouling fresh fisheries, forests, fields...
Fossil fuels' filthy fumes fatefully force frighteningly fast feedbacks, forever forcing Fahrenheit figures further forward, fatally frying forests, flora, farm fields, fisheries, fellow fauna. Furthermore, frequent fluctuations (formed foremost from fossil-fueled fires' foul, far-flung fumes) famish formerly fertile forests, facilitating forests' fall 'fore fearsome, formidable flames fanned ferociously from fallen foliage; fauna flee frantically from furious fires. Filthy fossil fuels' felony failures forever fouled finite fields; future's frightfully foggy, fragile, finished. Foreground's faltering. Fuck fossil fuels' filthy financiers.
Furthermore, faulty fission furnaces fail ferociously, flinging filthy fallout faraway, forever fouling farm fields; fully fertile fouled fields, formerly fruitful, fecund, fall forever fallow, forsaken.
Feral fauna faltering:
Far fewer fluffy, furry friends (ferrets, fossas, fennec foxes, fruitbats, flying foxes...); Famous feral felines' future fading; foolishly fast-flying fossil-fluid fueled Ferraris, flatbeds, Fords, frequently flatten feeble, frightened fawns.
Flippered, finned friends fed fish for forced flipping, flapping, frolicking, flailing; freedom forgotten forever, freewheeling friends faraway.
Furred friends factory-farmed; frightened, frenzied, frantic; force-fed feeble fodder, fattened, flesh finally fried for fatty fast food (Fast Food: fizzy, falsely flavoured fructose-filled fluids flowing freely from fountains, french fries, fried flesh...).
Furriers flay fine fur from furry friends' flesh for fetidly fancy fashions. Forego furriers; faux fur's fine.
Festering factory fowl farms facilitate flus' fatal flourishing; furthermore, free-flowing feces flushed from factory farms frequently fouls freshwater fisheries.
Fluttering, flitting friends (fireflies, fleas, fruit flies, fishflies, fritillaries, formicidae...) free-falling: flattened from factory farmers' foolhardy fossil-fueled flyby fumigating.
Farmers' fetid fossil-fluid fertilizers force fresh fruit from fragile fields, forever fraying fields' fertility; furthermore, fluvial fluids ferry free-flowing fertilizers far from factory fruit farms, feeding far-flung, festering fungal flora; far-off fisheries founder, failing, fully finished; far fewer fish found; feedstocks faltering, fecundity failing, fertilization flatlining.
Fish filtered frenziedly, forever faster, from forever farther-flung fisheries, for food; fine finned friends filleted for fancy fare; feeble finned friends' flesh flushed, fetid food fated for factory-farmed fish.
Flying, flitting, flapping feathered friends (flamingos, finches, fantails, falcons, flatbills, flycatchers, forktails, flickers, frigatebirds, fulmars, fish-owls, figbirds...) forlorn, flagging, frequently famished (fewer fish, flies, fruits, food...), fall face-first, fatally, from fatigue.
Face fluids flowing freely.
Feeling fairly funereal.
Founding Fathers fortuitously foresaw financiers' filthy, fiddling fingers; fortified federal financial facilities.
Forebears' fiscal folly fomented former financial free-fall; forthcoming financial free-fall feared far faster; fatally ferocious.
Fast-forwarding, financiers' fiscal fuckery fomented far-reaching foreclosures, finally finishing fine, friendly families far from financial freedom. False fronts feigned fiduciarity; far-fetched fiscal figures, fixed, falsified financial fortitude; fiat finances fully forgotten, fungibility favoured, Fed forged forever forward, fiscal flaws fatal.
Fast-forwarding further, federal facilities falter; Fed frequently fielding funds from foreign financiers. Found flat-footed, federal facilities fragment frighteningly fast; financing failing, frozen, facilities falter, fracturing forever faster.
Feds further fortified finances, forestalling fiscal free-fall; funds flowed (fractionally) faster. Freedom from faltering finances felt, for furloughed fellows, fairly fantastic (fleetingly).
Forsooth! Forget false fanfare; financial forbearance finally finished; far-reaching foreclosures forthcoming, fast.
Fed's feckless, frail, fraudulently fictitious, feloniously fabricated financial façade finally fracturing, faltering, failing. Forthcoming financial free-fall foreshadows federation's final folding; fatalities feared.
Federal finances fubar, far from fixable.
Future finds frivolously fattened fossil fools flailing feebly, fearful; Freeloading financiers' far-flung feelers forever found faculties for forcing fine friendly folks' funds from fine friendly folks' fists; formidable fortunes, furtively ferretted, funnelled for fossil fuel funding, finally falling, fracturing, folding, failing; fracking's finished, far from financially feasible.
Feudalism, futurized: frigid financiers’ faceless, formless, "fiscally fiduciary" funds force faraway farmers' famished, fettered families (farthest from financiers' futuristically fancy flagship fortresses) from fertile farm fields, frequently fatally; far from fair.
Families fragmented, frenzied, frantically fleeing from freakishly ferocious fires, famines, furious flash floods, federal fascists, faraway financiers.
Fractionally functioning, faulty families fray, filaments flimsy; fenestrated fabric finally fails from frequent friction.
Foremost fixation? Find fissures. Find fulcrums. Force fossil-fueled factories, ferreted funds, futuristic fortresses from fraudster financiers' filthy, frigid, frozen fingers. Find fresh formats for functioning. Former format far from foolproof; failing fantastically.
Fortune favours fearless fighters.
Find forefront. Foray.
Fight for freedom;
Fight for friends;
Fight for family;
Fight for future.
Chalk on board, words ignored,
School never was much fun.
Cabbage cooked, overlooked,
Rotting in the summer sun.
Carousel, a gate to hell,
Stirs up thoughts of days gone by.
Constellation in the skies, still unseen by wool-wrapped eyes,
Free our silo from this lie.
Conundrum here, the rules defied,
Which words to rhyme? Not specified!
“If your homeland were invaded by aliens who cut down the forests, poisoned the water and air and contaminated the food supply, would you resist?” - Derrick Jensen
Why is committing omnicide in the name of GDP okay? Why do we tolerate the ever-accelerating destruction of the biosphere we live within and depend upon? How can we continue to allow systems to operate which, at best, alter beyond repair, and, at worst, completely toxify on a geological timescale, literally everything around us? What makes it okay to turn every bit of natural wealth on the only life-harbouring planet we know of into garbage? We've long run out of places to put the trash; all the runoff and pollution and filth is now toxifying the very things that sustain not only us, but every living thing on the planet. The food we eat. The water we drink. The air we breathe. Our own bodies. Our own minds. How can we justify these atrocities to ourselves? To our children? Our grandchildren? How will you look a young person in the eye, decades from now, when they ask the two inevitable questions:
“When you were my age, did you know what was happening?”
Once you fumble through an answer to that, they’ll ask,
“What did you do?”
I, for one, plan to be able to look my niece and nephew in the eye and say, “I did not do the easy thing, the comfortable thing. I forced myself to look, even when I was fearful and did not want to see. I stayed awake, even when I was weary and wanted to sleep. I loved, even when I was angry and wanted to hate. I created, even when I was hungry and wanted to consume. I lived, even when I was fearful and wanted to die. I drove my stake into the ground and I stood up for what I believed in, even when I was doubtful and struggled to believe. I had great fear, but I did not run; I did not hide."
With inspiration from, and thanks to, this Post-Doom conversation with Stephen Jenkinson: https://youtu.be/zQk9nmsLrE8?t=3248