Have. Have. It’s “could have,” not “could of.” God dammit, people.

Well, it seems that I don’t often write about life in general unless things are grim, so here’s a somewhat more upbeat summary of life as a whole lately:

Life’s been interesting, which is to say, it’s been up and down like a rollercoaster but never fails to beat the tedious drudgery that I’d experience without the chaos. My programming projects have been put on temporary hold lately as I’ve been focusing on World of Warcraft and my electronics project, suffering the relentless and thoroughly unwelcome, oppressive heat of the summer and other associated annoyances that come with this most loathesome of seasons, and both pondering and happily resolving a few confusions and points of contention regarding relationship-related matters. I don’t usually mention much related to my love-life on this blog for a number of reasons, but let me assure those of you who care about my mental stability that things could not be better right now on that front.

Oh, and I walked face-first into a street sign that was far too low yesterday, because the sun was in my eyes and making it hard to see where the hell I was going. Normally I wouldn’t admit this at all, but I know for a fact that people are going to ask what’s with the cuts and bruises, and I’m not nearly manly enough to be able to lie and say it was the result of a bar-fight, and you should have seen the other guy.

In conclusion: Life rocks, and my face is pretty much okay. That is all.

One of the downsides of living in an apartment building just across the road from a large, public park is — unfortunately — the tendency for incomprehensible gatherings of crew-cut youths clad in bright colours and their beer-gut-and-Budweiser parents in tow, two screaming babies in a pram and another in the oven. Yes, I’m referring to the unfortunate but inevitable occurrences of football games — soccer, as the Americans call it — which in itself would not be a big problem, if not for the fact that it both attracts and largely consists of club-headed neanderthals who appear to display a worrying lack of self-control, leading to what I can only describe as some of the most hoarse, vehement shouting forcing its way out of their Lambert & Butler tar-coated throats.

It’s not just this, though, but any occurrence of this inexplicably dull sport which seems to evoke the most primive and violent natures from these already low-brow plebians. Going anywhere near a public place before, during, or after any kind of match which seems to hold some ridiculous significance to these simians is practically a death sentence, due to their unfortunate nature to riot furiously and violently if “their” team loses the game, a haze of bloodlust hanging over them like a cloud. Similarly, if the team they “support” — and I use that word in the loosest manner possible — wins a game, they seem equally overcome with primal fury, destroying and fighting everything in their path as their uncontrollable wrath leaves broken windows and empty beer cans in its wake. This, perhaps, is the most bizarre aspect of the whole experience, as if every fan is simply a ticking time-bomb, waiting for the moment to explode in bestial anger regardless of the game’s outcome!

I can’t even begin to understand why sports of most kinds tend to bring out the worst, most primal and aggressive natures of ordinarily air-brained yet harmless peons — though it mostly seems to focus around the more physical of sports, ones that involve a lot of running, since I’ve rarely heard of a chess riot, or police being called in to deal with enraged snooker fans.

Truth be told, though, that’d be quite hilarious to observe.

(Image courtesy of my blogging compadre, Gorse.)

And there it is, after countless hours of boredom and frustration, after trawling mindlessly through mountains of outdated content I cared little about, at last the reward — and with it a new title, Loremaster Squick, a way to show the world that I truly have nothing better to do with my life than sink hours into tedium and repetition for the hopes of a hollow reward of coloured pixels. Despite that, I don’t regret a moment of it.

That’s what got me thinking about gaming as a whole, and the bizarre system of effort and reward that we as gamers seem to impose upon ourselves. Of course achievements in games like World of Warcraft or on systems such as the Xbox 360 and Steam — or a rose by any other name, such as “trophies” on the PlayStation 3 — are the perfect example of this mentality in action, I feel it’s only a relatively new coat of paint on the surface of something much older. Remember when you were a kid hanging out in the video-game arcades of the 80′s and 90′s, marvelling at the high-score tables populated and dominated by those elite few with the seemingly unattainable skills needed to occupy such a throne? Or as a more domestic example, something every gamer should be familiar with: The urge to beat the level, defeat the boss, to press onward and explore new territory, or simply to beat a score and achieve some measure of satisfaction from the knowledge that your skill and dedication could be quantified by digits glowing on a phosphor screen.

This, I feel, is something endemic and intrinsic to the gamer mindset, and yet the intangible appeal fails to make any logical sense in my mind. We push ourselves to incredible lengths for the sake of achievement and improvement in an artificial system which exists solely for the sake of providing challenge where there would otherwise be none. An extreme case of this would be the Korean gamer who quite literally killed himself by playing too much StarCraft; more common examples can be seen all around us. Who out there wearing the moniker of “gamer” can honestly say they haven’t spent a weekend or more shut away in a darkened room, hunched over a screen, thoroughly absorbed in one of these faux-simulacra?

Is it simply human nature to constantly push ourselves further, so desperate for self-improvement and so eager for accolade that we are inherently drawn to such a medium? The overwhelming popularity of gaming as a whole on a worldwide scale would seem to imply a certain truth in this logic, though I can’t help but feel as though something is missing. Can it really be that simple? In the end, are we still just a bunch of apes who’ll push a button all day long if it means we’ll get a bunch of bananas and a pat on the head?

No philosophical discussion is complete without stick-figure diagrams.

Yesterday, I had a discussion on theology/philosophy with a couple of Mormon missionaries, largely concerning the issue of omnipotence vs. the fallacy of free will. I don’t think they were really expecting me to whip out the whiteboard and dry-erase markers, but it seemed to go over pretty well. I was actually surprised by the outcome — they stumbled a little at first, clearly not expecting the question, but managed to formulate a fairly adequate response. The gist of the conversation ended with the conclusion that even though God knows what choice I’m going to make (the little stick-man in the box with the branching paths represents me), that doesn’t influence or affect the fact that I still had the choice in the first place.

Now, I could have gone more philsophical and argued that knowledge of the future does in fact invalidate any possible notion of free will, and even without the presence of some heavenly overlord, this concept troubles me from time to time purely from the perspective of science (we are, after all, composed of matter which acts in predictable and logical ways). But I’ll give them credit for trying, especially as I’m sure neither of them expected to have such a thing thrust upon them without warning.

Maybe next time.

The rest of the conversation pretty much went as could be expected, and I had time a-plenty to clarify a few things I’ve been hazy on. I’m not about to be “converted” or choose a religion any time soon, but I like to think I keep an open mind, and this is one angle I simply haven’t given much attention to in the past. I know plenty enough about Catholicism, I’ve read into Taoism and Buddhism, but those Mormons always just seem so damn happy, and I want to know what their secret is. And then I’ll ask one of those monks in orange robes who always hang out on streets and seem to constantly act like they just won the lottery last week and things could not be better.

Somewhere along the line, I just decided that I was tired of life being predictable, dull, and largely falling into the trap of same shit, different day. There’s something fundamentally satisfying about just breaking out of that routine and walking down a path you’d never normally take, just to see where it leads you.