It's been a long time since I sat down and focused my thoughts enough to contribute to this blog. In the wake of the chaos and uncertainty that's been my life lately, I thought it would do some good to reflect on a few things and jot down an entry that once again explores how I use gaming to understand and face life and its many, many challenges.
One question I hear in interviews and podcasts all the time, is "Why do you play a [class]?"
It's an interesting question, some people are just drawn to a particular class because of how it plays, what it looks like, or the raw capability it has meshing with their expectations of what they should be able to contribute to the game. I don't know many who have openly stated some deep, introspective and psychological reason for their selected class/role. I'm not saying they don't, I'm just saying I don't hear it often. So, whether it makes me some kind of weird minority or not, I thought I'd explore the reason I play what I do. Buckle up.
Long ago, when I was in my early adolescent years, I first encountered the style of gaming that required the selection of a class or role to play. Be it side-scrolling beat 'em ups, role-playing games, tabletop games, or simply choosing Princess Toadstool in Super Mario Bros. 2 because she could float and stuff, (you all know you did it) those decisions were a reflection of the kind of person I was. Back then, I always went with the same archetype, the archer/ranged type, hitting things from a distance, contributing from afar.
Archer was the safe option. I could do what I had to in order to contribute without putting myself up in the fray; much like I did in school and around my friends. I was pretty socially awkward back then, and my decision to work from the sidelines echoed how I behaved in pretty much every situation I was in, gaming or otherwise. It was safe back there. No direct confrontation, less danger of being hurt, no real connection to what happened up front, but I was okay with that.
Until I wasn't.
I grew up. I realized that relationships from a distance, while safe, left me feeling unfulfilled. It became boring to sit in the back peppering things with arrows and spells, and the more I did it, the more detached I felt from the group. Yes, I'm blurring the lines between playing and introspect now, but there was a noticeably tangible shift in my playing habits somewhere around my late teens, when I left for the Army and was forced to make new friends, survive in new environments, and forge new relationships. My first deployment was paramount in that fact, bringing out instincts and natures I didn't know I had. Valor, selflessness, a strong drive to protect the people next to me, these were things I started to venerate and exalt, not shy away from and fear.
So I made a tank.
From the first dungeon I ran on my little paladin tank, I knew I'd found a calling. Something about taking all of that aggro, shielding my friends, charging headlong into a fight so I'd bear the brunt of the attack and they'd have the opportunity to act freely exhilarated me. I came to realize I didn't just play that archetype, I had become it.
The day I almost died in Iraq stands as a huge turning point in my outlook on life. I decided then that standing on the sidelines wasn't enough, I could fade away at any second, and I questioned the value my life had and what kind of legacy I'd leave behind. Did I want to be remembered as the archer in the back who helped from a distance, or the warrior in front who led the charge and did everything he could to protect the ones he cared about. The answer was pretty clear to me. I read a FaceBook post from a very close friend recently about how grateful she was to have had me in her life. At one point in private discussion she even stated that had I not been who I was, she might have given up. To be told that my friendship is a reason someone is still alive today is a harrowing experience. In our discussions I realized sometimes all it takes to save a life is to simply be a part of it, and that epiphany was more powerful than any quote or inspirational story I'd ever seen. Looking back I can think of specific instances in which people helped me by being who they were, and times I did the same.
I'm not a plate armor-clad holy warrior. I'm not an expert with a sword and shield, and I'm not physically capable or skilled enough to charge into battle at the forefront of my group. But I DO treasure those virtues. I DO believe that compassion, honor, selflessness and valor are integral to my core and crucial to maintain to stay the kind of man I am, the kind of man I want to be. Upholding those virtues is what defines me both as a person, and as the avatar I've chosen to represent me in an online game.
The legacy I'm proud of is that of the friends I've helped by being caring and supportive, and when necessary, firm. The legacy I'm proud of is one that will remember me as someone that was there for people, loyal and compassionate. This has given me purpose, validation and meaning. And to have an arena like gaming where I can channel that, take those virtues and attributes that I hold so dear, and share them with people all over the world in the form of playing a role in the game, allows me to experience it in a comfortable, enjoyable environment.
Quite the evolution from the kid in the back that was hesitant to expose himself when contributing. I've felt much more fulfilled playing a defensive role in gaming, much as I've discovered the same sensation in real life and actual relationships. So that's why I gravitate towards tanking classes and roles.
That, and stupid bows never drop.
