Gaming existential crises, anyone? Anyone?
Posted: Wed May 12, 2021 6:31 pm
Hey, if anyone cares to read and give me feedback it would be appreciated. This is, as with some of my other threads, a stream-of-consciousness attempt to grapple with something weighing on my mind. Since I'm a fairly solitary person in real life, my support network is rather... limited.
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Warning: This rant has been brought to you today by the state of Frustration, the number zero, and the letters F and U. Our special guest was Moment of Clarity, who may be wrong, but is a huge dick regardless.
Today has been one of those days. Taking my kid to school spontaneously jumped from a 20 minute drive to a two hour drive due to idiots. Two separate support sessions with Amazon. Out of nine items due to arrive today, only two have actually been shipped, and one of them arrived destroyed due to them saving money on packaging. That took another hour. I really needed to get the racks for my miniature paints primed today. I'd decided to use my airbrush because I am trying not to spend any more money on this than I already have. I figured I had barely enough time to get it done. Naturally, the brush clogged, badly, three times. This was largely my fault, as there is a piece that need cleaned periodically that I had never realized was removable, so it had several years of dried paint in it. But I didn't find that out until later. Each time it clogged required a complete or partial break down, cleaning, and reassembly. At one point I managed to pour an entire reservoir of black paint over my hand. I was running out of time. And I was running out of paint! I'd never airbrushed for coverage before, so six racks took way more than what I'd expected. I wouldn't be able to finish priming with what I have, and the only place I can get that primer is... Amazon.
So, there I was, I'd burned through my entire stock of black primer, my hand was covered in black paint, and the airbrush was full of paint - which I couldn't leave that way. And it was ten minutes past when I needed to leave. The project was going to hell, and I was already in a bad mood from that morning. One of my thoughts was, "I've been working on this studio redesign for two weeks, and if I ruin these racks I'll have wasted all that time, effort, and money just in order to paint." And it hit me like an avalanche: Paint?
When I paint?
...
I haven't painted in a year.
...
Holy shit, did I already waste all that time and money? And what about the other time, money, and space I've given in order to keep...
...
Damn.
There was the our special guest, giant dick that he is, Moment of Clarity. I still don't know what to do about what Moment said.
See, I have been playing tabletop games for 30+ years. I picked up D&D in 1989. I was 16. I picked up miniature painting within a few months so that I'd have cool stuff to play D&D with. I later expanded into other RPGs. Then came wargames (Battle Systems, Warhammer), and with that even more miniatures to paint, plus the wargames had expanded my crafting to terrain building. Warhammer inspired me, the books filled with pictures full of amazing scratch built terrain. I could do that! Years later I added two more miniatures to my life (homemade - Michelle and I made them with sex.) In order to bring them into the amazing world of gaming, I jumped head first into the world of modern board games. Hey, even more miniatures to paint! And I painted, and I crafted, and I painted, and I crafted. After all, these games were better with painted miniatures. And RPGs were better with crafted terrain and set pieces! Those games inspired me to be creative in order to support them.
So, a little over a year ago, I formally retired from GMing RPGs. It was a combination of burnout and a realization that I wasn't having fun doing it anymore even before the burnout. Almost exactly a year ago my D&D group impoloded due to the rather extreme views (and likely mental illness related issues) of one player. And over the past two years, my two kids have decided that board gaming isn't really their cup of tea. My eldest just doesn't like it, while my youngest, now 17, is in a different phase in his life (you known, friends his age.) I know pretty much every RPGer and board gamer in town (remember, I live in a town of less than 4,000 people where people still think D&D is about Satan.) So trust me when I say this: I will not be running, nor will I be player in, any in-person RPG for the foreseeable future. We're talking years here. And board games are down to what I can play solo. That effectively neutralizes about 3/4 of my collection. And truth be told, playing by myself means that I'm honestly unlikely to actually set up any of the huge, massive campaign games full of terrain and miniatures anyway. I'm more likely to play the lighter stuff that I can run through in an afternoon.
So, what's the point?
Physical, in-person RPGs are a dead hobby for me and will be staying that way for a long time. Wargames have been gone for years (it's been a decade.) And board games are on life support. I can still play a few solo games, but on the whole it isn't enough to call it a full hobby. It's a side thing. I honestly haven't taken any but a few of my board games off of the shelf in a year, and when I do I tend to play once and then put them back. For most of this, just for simplicity, I'm going to put that hobby over there <---- and focus on the rest of the issue.
And that brings us back to painting. Painting was something I did to feed into RPGs, wargames, and board games. It was part of the process, the prep, the inspiration. But now the focus of that activity is gone. When I start to paint, there is a corner of my mind that says, "Why? To what end?" Now, I have painted a few times when hentzau has his zoom get-togethers, but that has been about the hang out, not the painting. I have only finished a couple of miniatures during that time, mostly because I was only painting for that two hours ever few weeks during the hang outs. But when have I actually painted for any other reason? I honestly don't remember. It has been well over a year, and the thing is, I never realized that.
That's a pretty big deal. You see, I still thought of myself as an RPGer, as a GM, and as a painter, even though I wasn't doing any of them. Why? It's been the one constant my entire adult life. Since I was 16, those were the things I did. Those were the passions I pursued.
And then I stopped.
And I never realized I'd stopped, because I'm always those things. RPGing and painting are what I do. Except that I now see that I don't.
So why is that a problem? Because human brains are stupid, and autistic brains like to fall into patterns and then stay there.
I have spent the past year thinking as if I were an RPGer, a full-on board gamer, a GM, and a painter. I have spent that time constantly preparing for those activities, which I then never do, never quite realizing it. What does preparing look like? It looks like time spent following news, learning new techniques, studying, following. It looks like five floor-to-ceiling book shelves full of games and books, plus one whole wall of my room dedicated to painting, plus shelves of other supplies, all in a house where I barely have room to breathe and about which I've been bitching about storage for years. It looks like money spent on Kickstarters for games I won't play, accessories I won't use, and paints I won't put on a brush. It looks like remodeling a painting area when I don't paint, spending money on wood, tools, racks, and other sundries.
I'm devoting resources as if I were rabidly following a set of hobbies that I'm not actually involved in. I'm stunned at the amount of space, time, energy, and money I have devoted in the last two years to - literally - getting ready to not do something.
I'm ashamed.
And I also wonder: How much of the past few years before all of this was the same? Remember when I said that I hadn't had fun GMing for quite a while before I quit? Have I spent the past few years have following these activities purely out of habit and momentum, rather than the real sense of joy that originally brought me to them? Looking back, it seems like it.
As a teenager, I was deeply troubled. An autistic kid who essentially raised himself, I was lonely, terrified, majorly depressed, isolated. Teenage me was desperate to get away from the real world. Escapism was his opiate. So is this even me? Or is it teenage me's drives and needs that I have chased rather than taking the time to find adult me's own interests?
I have a lot to think about.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Warning: This rant has been brought to you today by the state of Frustration, the number zero, and the letters F and U. Our special guest was Moment of Clarity, who may be wrong, but is a huge dick regardless.
Today has been one of those days. Taking my kid to school spontaneously jumped from a 20 minute drive to a two hour drive due to idiots. Two separate support sessions with Amazon. Out of nine items due to arrive today, only two have actually been shipped, and one of them arrived destroyed due to them saving money on packaging. That took another hour. I really needed to get the racks for my miniature paints primed today. I'd decided to use my airbrush because I am trying not to spend any more money on this than I already have. I figured I had barely enough time to get it done. Naturally, the brush clogged, badly, three times. This was largely my fault, as there is a piece that need cleaned periodically that I had never realized was removable, so it had several years of dried paint in it. But I didn't find that out until later. Each time it clogged required a complete or partial break down, cleaning, and reassembly. At one point I managed to pour an entire reservoir of black paint over my hand. I was running out of time. And I was running out of paint! I'd never airbrushed for coverage before, so six racks took way more than what I'd expected. I wouldn't be able to finish priming with what I have, and the only place I can get that primer is... Amazon.
So, there I was, I'd burned through my entire stock of black primer, my hand was covered in black paint, and the airbrush was full of paint - which I couldn't leave that way. And it was ten minutes past when I needed to leave. The project was going to hell, and I was already in a bad mood from that morning. One of my thoughts was, "I've been working on this studio redesign for two weeks, and if I ruin these racks I'll have wasted all that time, effort, and money just in order to paint." And it hit me like an avalanche: Paint?
When I paint?
...
I haven't painted in a year.
...
Holy shit, did I already waste all that time and money? And what about the other time, money, and space I've given in order to keep...
...
Damn.
There was the our special guest, giant dick that he is, Moment of Clarity. I still don't know what to do about what Moment said.
See, I have been playing tabletop games for 30+ years. I picked up D&D in 1989. I was 16. I picked up miniature painting within a few months so that I'd have cool stuff to play D&D with. I later expanded into other RPGs. Then came wargames (Battle Systems, Warhammer), and with that even more miniatures to paint, plus the wargames had expanded my crafting to terrain building. Warhammer inspired me, the books filled with pictures full of amazing scratch built terrain. I could do that! Years later I added two more miniatures to my life (homemade - Michelle and I made them with sex.) In order to bring them into the amazing world of gaming, I jumped head first into the world of modern board games. Hey, even more miniatures to paint! And I painted, and I crafted, and I painted, and I crafted. After all, these games were better with painted miniatures. And RPGs were better with crafted terrain and set pieces! Those games inspired me to be creative in order to support them.
So, a little over a year ago, I formally retired from GMing RPGs. It was a combination of burnout and a realization that I wasn't having fun doing it anymore even before the burnout. Almost exactly a year ago my D&D group impoloded due to the rather extreme views (and likely mental illness related issues) of one player. And over the past two years, my two kids have decided that board gaming isn't really their cup of tea. My eldest just doesn't like it, while my youngest, now 17, is in a different phase in his life (you known, friends his age.) I know pretty much every RPGer and board gamer in town (remember, I live in a town of less than 4,000 people where people still think D&D is about Satan.) So trust me when I say this: I will not be running, nor will I be player in, any in-person RPG for the foreseeable future. We're talking years here. And board games are down to what I can play solo. That effectively neutralizes about 3/4 of my collection. And truth be told, playing by myself means that I'm honestly unlikely to actually set up any of the huge, massive campaign games full of terrain and miniatures anyway. I'm more likely to play the lighter stuff that I can run through in an afternoon.
So, what's the point?
Physical, in-person RPGs are a dead hobby for me and will be staying that way for a long time. Wargames have been gone for years (it's been a decade.) And board games are on life support. I can still play a few solo games, but on the whole it isn't enough to call it a full hobby. It's a side thing. I honestly haven't taken any but a few of my board games off of the shelf in a year, and when I do I tend to play once and then put them back. For most of this, just for simplicity, I'm going to put that hobby over there <---- and focus on the rest of the issue.
And that brings us back to painting. Painting was something I did to feed into RPGs, wargames, and board games. It was part of the process, the prep, the inspiration. But now the focus of that activity is gone. When I start to paint, there is a corner of my mind that says, "Why? To what end?" Now, I have painted a few times when hentzau has his zoom get-togethers, but that has been about the hang out, not the painting. I have only finished a couple of miniatures during that time, mostly because I was only painting for that two hours ever few weeks during the hang outs. But when have I actually painted for any other reason? I honestly don't remember. It has been well over a year, and the thing is, I never realized that.
That's a pretty big deal. You see, I still thought of myself as an RPGer, as a GM, and as a painter, even though I wasn't doing any of them. Why? It's been the one constant my entire adult life. Since I was 16, those were the things I did. Those were the passions I pursued.
And then I stopped.
And I never realized I'd stopped, because I'm always those things. RPGing and painting are what I do. Except that I now see that I don't.
So why is that a problem? Because human brains are stupid, and autistic brains like to fall into patterns and then stay there.
I have spent the past year thinking as if I were an RPGer, a full-on board gamer, a GM, and a painter. I have spent that time constantly preparing for those activities, which I then never do, never quite realizing it. What does preparing look like? It looks like time spent following news, learning new techniques, studying, following. It looks like five floor-to-ceiling book shelves full of games and books, plus one whole wall of my room dedicated to painting, plus shelves of other supplies, all in a house where I barely have room to breathe and about which I've been bitching about storage for years. It looks like money spent on Kickstarters for games I won't play, accessories I won't use, and paints I won't put on a brush. It looks like remodeling a painting area when I don't paint, spending money on wood, tools, racks, and other sundries.
I'm devoting resources as if I were rabidly following a set of hobbies that I'm not actually involved in. I'm stunned at the amount of space, time, energy, and money I have devoted in the last two years to - literally - getting ready to not do something.
I'm ashamed.
And I also wonder: How much of the past few years before all of this was the same? Remember when I said that I hadn't had fun GMing for quite a while before I quit? Have I spent the past few years have following these activities purely out of habit and momentum, rather than the real sense of joy that originally brought me to them? Looking back, it seems like it.
As a teenager, I was deeply troubled. An autistic kid who essentially raised himself, I was lonely, terrified, majorly depressed, isolated. Teenage me was desperate to get away from the real world. Escapism was his opiate. So is this even me? Or is it teenage me's drives and needs that I have chased rather than taking the time to find adult me's own interests?
I have a lot to think about.