Last year Lynette and Cernac convinced me that HEMA
tournament judging had changed sufficiently in the last 20 years that
I wanted to come back and give one a go. And I was saying on here
just at the weekend that I was getting more inspired to that, for
various reasons. Among other things, the four-person scoring judges
sounds like a good system, it’s just about going and having some
fights without all the other stuff that goes along with an
organisation like the SCA’s game, and also because I find myself
having to hold back in SCA heavy rapier fencing from so much stuff
that the ruleset doesn’t include. And, of course, it’s another good
fuck-you to the reaper.
So, then yesterday Lynette was mentioning that Astolat
is in July… And that’s an Open tournament, in forms I know, and
there’s nearly nine months to sort out new gear… So I may have said
I’ll enter that.
So, what I find myself wondering is: Given that I have
diabetes, dmo, a weird blood condition thing, a spot of liver damage,
been stitched back together with nine pints transfused a couple of
years ago, inconsistency is my superpower, will be in my 50th
year, and, most importantly,
haven’t fought competition for 20 years…. Will I be a) inspiring
that us old gits can come back in with a fuck-you to the reaper, or
b) a total laughing stock.
I mean, it’s not like
I’d epect to win anything, cos I’m not daft, and that is a long time
to be out, even doing other related things. (Not being last will
suffice) But I reckon… I know it’d suit me fine. Always used to.
It might be good for a charity fundraiser (fuck this 10k run stuff,
though if I guess if I was an actor I’d get a TV series out of it!).
And I keep coming back to the “It’d, like entering Crown or
Coronet, be the best possible fuck-you to the reaper. Which is an
oddly important thing to me after 2015.
So, Godalming, July
next year, Astolat, I reckon I’m up for that.
One person sleeping with their head on the other person’s lap. Getting all drowsy-snuggly when they’re too tired to see straight. Being tucked in and kissed on the forehead before they pass out. Gentle touches while they drift off. Trusting the other person to watch over them and make sure nothing happens to them while they’re out.
Ravenclaws love and hate ambient noise. It needs to be a specific kind of noise depending on what they’re doing, and if it varies too far from the ambient noise they wanted, they just find it distracting.
So there’s one bit near the end of the Genocide Run that hit me pretty hard, personally. And as with most things that hit me very hard emotionally, it was a random almost throwaway line that wasn’t written to be focused on that much. But whether it intentionally held the meaning I took from it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I DID take meaning from it.
When Flowey is monologuing near the very very end of the game and explaining what he went through, he talks about how he lacks the ability to feel anything for the people around him, and how desperately, frantically, he wishes he did. He talks about how, at first, he tried to help people. He talks about how at first it seemed to help, but every time it was time to let go, to move on, he got scared and couldn’t do it. He’d panic and reset instead. And how then he’d be right back where he started. And he would try helping everyone again.
But it became hollow. Everyone always said the exact same things, and did the exact same things. And nothing changed. And nothing new ever happened.
And eventually, just out of sheer desperation for SOMETHING new, he decided to kill everyone. And how that was at first a relief, but even that grew stale and empty as he did it over and over again. Until he was left with nothing, and there was nothing to care about, either for better or worse, but he couldn’t let go either. So he was trapped in this world where nothing ever changed, and he couldn’t make himself leave.
It’s a sad story, but it’s also a bit of a gut punch because of its implications.
Maybe in time, the person playing the game, the actual human being behind the keyboard, not the pixel character they control, would find themselves in the exact same situation. Eventually, things in a game stop changing. Characters always say the same things, do the same things. And maybe in time, as boredom takes over, the player would also try a genocide game just for SOMETHING new. But eventually even that will become empty and lead to nowhere after you do it enough.
I can’t really say if that’s true or not. I can’t say it’s false either.
But It’s 2 years now. And a lot of us are still here. And more importantly a lot of us still care. Quite deeply in fact.
And maybe we won’t care forever, maybe the same thing will happen, or more likely, we’d be the ones able to let go and move on to other things and let go. Maybe there’s no escaping that.
But it’s been 2 years, and at least for now, we’re still here.
There is also the possibility I’ve considered, that since the insane success of the game was never expected or anticipated at all, that the level of love it caused in gamers was a complete and utter surprise, maybe their ability to never fall into that cycle of apathy and just how long they can keep going, caring as hard as ever, will also be a complete surprise that was never foreseen.
Or even more simply, maybe Flowey just needed to be shown, as with so many things, he was wrong about that too.
Who knows. Honestly I can’t say how things will look in time. It could either way.