Can’t remember the reason why, but about a decade ago, I bought an external hard drive from my old job. It’s a 500 GB deal that needs a wall outlet in addition to a USB connection. It’s old, dusty, and it stopped working once, but has since been running just as good as when I bought it.
I decided to take a look at it recently. I’ve been doing a lot of moving around and not being home due to work reasons, so it’s been fun to go through the past ten years of memories, and see what I kept on here. It’s mostly music, old games, and porn. But there’s some other stuff that I made or saved that I feel like sharing.
Here’s an old animated sprite I made of myself. I used to have this really sweet jacket that was black, with red stripes down the sleeves. And on the back was this cool drawing of the X-Men. Sadly, I no longer have that jacket.
And here’s a terrible photo I took of when I was front row at a My Bloody Valentine reunion show. To date myself, this was taken with a flip phone. The iPhone was nothing more than a Steve Jobs fever dream at this point. The show was awesome, by the way, even if I got beer spilled all over me by an over zealous security guard who absolutely needed to shove his way past me, despite being in a wide open space he could have easily navigated without making contact with anyone. The opening acts were terrible too, and probably no longer around.
I’ve been getting back into Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup lately, and I have some older versions of the game on here, back when “Sludge Elf” was a species you could be. Kind of fucked up that they were removed since, though. I mean, they are called “Sludge Elves.” That is so fucking aesthetic!
This picture of me at a college party back in 2006. I never actually went to college, but I did go to a lot of their parties.
Surviving screenshots of projects/games I started and never finished. And yeah, the term “Lonely Frontier” was something I came up with late one night, working on a text adventure about outer space that I don’t think ever made it past that one passage. I would start things, get stumped on either a technical or creative aspect, and then stop making things. That’s how I was in those days. Still kind of am today.
Here’s some music. I’ll post some songs, no rhyme or reason to them. Just stuff that’s good, and that I listened to on repeat night after night in those days.
That’s pretty much it. Like I said, it’s otherwise images I saved for no real reason, roms, and such. Plus a few other things that I have a slight emotional connection to that would make absolutely no sense if I posted them. But hey, hope you liked that tour down memory lane. I’ll try to post more often now that I’m not stuck in places with bad internet.
Last night was the first episode of All Elite Wrestling’s television show, Wednesday Night Dynamite. Pretty much everyone in my social circles knew how pumped I was for this show. I was excited because holy shit, there was a reason to care about wrestling again. I quit watching WWE well over a year ago due to a combination of the Trump shit, the Saudi Arabia shit, and the JBL-Mauro Ranallo shit. And I don’t really have the time or the money to keep tabs on New Japan, as much as I would like to. So now here’s this new company, full of good wrestlers I like, going out of their way to appeal to people like me, having a new TV show on TNT, which hasn’t aired wrestling since 2001.
I was pumped for this match in particular:
Riho vs Nyla Rose to crown the first ever AEW Women’s champion. Now the deal with Nyla, if you weren’t already aware, is that Nyla Rose is a Native American transgender woman. While I may not be Native (I am extremely white), I am a trans woman, so you better believe I was ready to cheer my fucking lungs out for her. Plus, the booking gave me every reason to believe she would win: AEW has spent the past year going out of their way to court an LGBT audience, hiring Sonny Kiss, an openly gay Black man, in addition to Nyla. Cody Rhodes constantly saying “wrestling is for everybody,” banning Vince Russo, a homophobic wrestling writer, from their events, in addition to removing fans that chant queer/transphobic shit during their events. Cody and the Young Bucks may as well have broken through my TV glass and grabbed by the collar and yelled “we want you, specifically, Ramona, to watch this television show!”
So I did. And it was a really great show! Then the semi-main event for the Women’s title was gearing up, and I was gearing up. I was ready to fucking run around the house, cheering and yelling and annoying the shit out of everybody with my enthusiasm. I was ready to see Nyla kick some ass.
And then…she lost.
To say my energy was sapped and the air was taking out of me would be an understatement. I was crushed. I was angry. AEW had worked me into a shoot, brother. The main event of Dynamite may as well have been Cody Rhodes emptying a bag of money into a garbage can, and setting it on fire.
This wasn’t some Daniel Bryan “the guy I like lost” bullshit. Nyla not only lost, but was booked like a fucking fool the whole time. Why would you try to use a steel chair in full view of the referee, knowing that this is not a no-disqualification match, and that you will lose if you hit Riho with the chair? The entire match, she keeps pulling out chairs from under the ring, Fire Pro style, while the commentators keep asking “why is she doing this?” Nevermind the fact that Nyla outweighs Riho by almost 100 pounds, and could simply use her size instead of relying on a weapon. Why is Nyla going for a Senton Bomb to the outside of the ring? What I was told last night was not that Nyla Rose couldn’t get the job done against Riho because Riho was the better opponent, it was that Nyla Rose could not get the job done against Riho because she is a fucking moron. But hey, thanks for the ratings, queers! We might consider telling Jim Ross to quit making snide “she’s not being man-handled, she’s being woman-handled” remarks next time!
I turned the show off after that. I didn’t care anymore.
Like, you spend a year appealing to the LGBT wrestling fans. You book Nyla to win a women’s battle royale from the #1 spot. You keep wink-wink-nudge-nudge promoting the women’s match as “history in the making,” which is definitely not meant to be taken as a loaded statement. Riho doesn’t even work for AEW full-time! You all but said “Nyla Rose will be our first women’s champion.” And while they may have banned Vince Russo from their shows, it’s clear they didn’t ban his booking philosophy with that ridiculous swerve. Great representation, to watch someone just like you compete in the big leagues, then look like a total jabroni and literally fall flat on their ass. Great representation to see Nyla get punked out by Kenny Omega, a man who kayfabes his sexuality worse than Dolph Ziggler kayfabes his politics.
I was originally going to have a section here about the people who have told me that Nyla “isn’t ready yet, brother” or how she’s suddenly a bad wrestler who botches all her moves in ways Sin Cara can only imagine. I won’t entertain that shit. It’s all cis white dudes saying that anyway, and it’s just another example of the wrestling double standard where even if Nyla was the drizzling shits in the ring, what would set her apart from the staggering number of shitty white guys who couldn’t work to save their lives winning titles and main eventing shows? What’s the difference between this hypothetical sloppy Nyla and like, Ryback? Like, I’m as big a CM Punk as you’ll ever meet, but I won’t pretend for a second that he didn’t have quite possibly the worst elbow drop in the history of the business, or that his career defining match at Money in the Bank 2011 didn’t have him falling over and fucking up constantly. Well, nevermind, I guess I did entertain that shit.
I’m mad about this. I really am. I understand that it’s asinine to care about a TV show, but like, I want to like AEW. I want to support AEW. I’m not here on my blog complaining because I hate the company and want to see it burn and end up in Vince McMahon’s tape library. But fuck me, man, you can’t spend all this time and money to reach out to a leftist queer audience, then pull the rug out from under everyone like that. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the idea of Nyla Rose losing matches; I don’t think she should have a Goldberg-like undefeated streak or anything like that. Everyone has to lose some time. But this match was the big one. This was your first impression to a massive audience, the chance to set yourself apart from the competition, your chance to put your best foot forward, and you fucking stepped on everyone’s Nikes. Will I be watching the show again next week? I don’t know yet.
I was looking forward to making a happier post this time. I completed two major projects, and I took the weekend off to try and recharge. And it was a good time; played a lot of games, watched a lot of movies, listened to a lot of music, recorded a new podcast episode. I had a good weekend.
But then Monday happened.
You probably saw the news: yet another mass shooting by someone who posted yet another manifesto on 8chan. More public pressure put onto Cloudflare, a service that basically protects sites like 8chan and Kiwi Farms from any consequences of the harm they do, to drop 8chan once and for all. And surprisingly, they did. Probably because they’re about to go public in September, and being connected to horrible massacres doesn’t exactly lead to success on the stock market. Cool. Great. Awesome. Anything that makes it harder for white supremacists to recruit people into their ranks is a good thing.
No, that’s all well and good. The problem I have lies with all of the people hot dogging and grandstanding over its demise, despite harrassing the people who accurately predicted the kind of shit that would happen if places like this kept going unchecked, calling them “fake allies,” “performative activists,” “pedophiles,” and all sorts of other heinous shit designed to minimize any work they were trying to do to de-platform the alt-right. The same people who literally screamed as loud as they could for people to “stop talking about Gamergate” and to “pay attention to the real issues” while trans women’s home addresses appeared on the site every other day, and while Milo Yiannopoulos was publicly complaining that his upcoming hitpiece on Sarah Nyberg had been delayed yet again because the legal team told him that it somehow managed to be too libelous for Breitbart are coming out with their hot takes that “Gamergate never ended” and “I told you so!”
And then there’s this:
This was the final straw for me. Randi Harper, the very same Randi Harper who went running, tears in her eyes and her tail between her legs, to places like r/kotakuinaction and Kiwi Farms, getting myself and several other people (mostly trans) doxxed, harassed, and stalked for years because we exposed her massive transphobia. Her support of people sending us death threats. Her “anti-nazi” blocklist that actually targets every trans woman on Twitter. Randi Harper and Wil Wheaton teamed up to make social media even more of a cesspool for the marginalized. And when there was pushback, she went to a group of school shooters to get everyone off her back. And now she wants to act like nothing ever happened.
I know that there are a lot of people out there who don’t like me. I know that you think I’m an asshole, a scumbag, a no-good piece of shit, or some other synonym I’m using to pad out this sentence. And you’re probably right on that. But I am not a liar.
I have no reason to lie. I have nothing to gain, but everything to lose by doing so, because the truth will always come out in the end. Have I been misled in the past? Absolutely! But I do not lie.
I am beyond sick and tired of being told my life, and my experiences, never actually happened. I have gone just about my entire life being called a liar. I was “lying” about Randi Harper. I was “lying” when it came to light that Zoe Quinn fucked over everyone involved with Crash Override. I was “lying” when I reported the abuse I went through as a child to my school counselor. I’m “lying” about everything. This fucking bullshit gaslighting to try and fail to convince me that the things me and several friends went through was all a big crock of shit; an invention of my own imagination. So many people with a fear of heights on top of the proverbial mountain will go to great lengths to tell you that we’re all liars. There are people who lead chapters of the DSA that will spread this misinformation.
Being told time and time again that this
all a bunch
figment of my imagination
all to take down the real victims of Gamergate in a fit of jealousy
lying about everything
telling tall tales to get myself over, brother
my only motivation!
No other reason!
Being involved with “anti-Gamergate” was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made in my fucking life. Unless your name is Alex, Sarah, or Allison, you were not worth the effort. You were not worth all the people who put their reputations and their literal safety at risk to support your selfish, ungrateful, transphobic asses. Not Randi Harper. Not Zoe Quinn. Not Brianna Wu. Not Leigh Alexander. Not a single one of you are worth the shit from a dog’s ass. So many people tried to do the right thing, because Fuck Nazis, and in the end, got demonized and cast out of their respective communities while you all got rewarded for it. I wish I had access to a time machine, so I can go back to August 2014, slap my past self in the face, tell that dumb motherfucker to keep your head down and mouth shut, and keep working on that King’s Field project. It’s not worth the headache, and to get dragged into petty slapfights with people I’ll never meet, and be looked at as a pariah because I felt bad for a shitty woman who makes terrible games and has even worse taste in men. Without trans women to do the work for her, it’s pretty obvious that she has no talent. I mean, why else did you only buy one issue of Goddess Mode?
Am I mad? Yeah. Am I bitter? You better fucking believe it, pal! A bunch of fucking con artists and grifters picked a fight with neo-nazis to further their brands, and when they got what they wanted, they told the rest of us to fuck off, and fend for ourselves when the alt-right came knocking on our doors. So many good people were unfairly harmed by this, and the world is on fire, too. Great job, everyone!
And to all you fucking jackoffs coming out of the woodwork thinking it’s okay to talk about 8chan and Gamergate in 2019, like you pieces of shit didn’t harass my friends nearly to death for doing the same thing at a time when that shit could have been shut down without a bunch of massacres having to occur first: if you don’t bring up all the trans people who got hurt from all this shit, and instead focusing on the cis grifters, guess what? Your Medium thinkpiece is bad, and you should feel bad.
Or maybe just take your own fucking advice
But I guess it’s a “real issue” now because “real” people are dead, and not those gross trannies making a joke out of your gender roles, right?
Fuck off. Leave me alone. I have one month left until I’ve finally reached a full year of sobriety, and I don’t need this bullshit to test my resolve.
I want to talk about something that happened a couple days ago that really upset me. Something that caused me to break my recent vow of “no discourse.” Actually, I want to talk about multiple things that, at first, seem like disparate topics, but all tie together in the end.
I want to talk about “callout culture.”
I’m going to begin by talking about some things that happened four years ago. A lifetime ago by internet standards, but it feels like yesterday when you see how the people affected are doing now.
We all know who Ian Miles Cheong is, right? Screencaps of whatever dumb, racist shit he’s said today has undoubtedly appeared on your social media feeds at least twelve times in the last hour. He’s probably the third most dunkable man on Twitter, right behind Elon Musk and Donald Trump. An unsavory character, for sure. But he wasn’t always that way. There was a time where he, at the very least, pretended that he wasn’t a bigoted asshole. And a lot of people on varying degrees of the left believed him. They trusted him, liked him, considered him a friend. Hell, he managed to kayfabe his way in to Crash Override, back when that was also pretending to not be a total sham. Then a games writer suggested that there should be more Black people in The Witcher 3 and he was like, “fuck this, I’m going back to the right-wing!” and now he’s the reactionary writer we all know and dislike.
Now, what does this have to do with callout culture? Well, remember how I said that there were people that trusted him before he did his Mr. Burns “change of heart, then quickly change back” deal? He made a Twitter post during his “SJW” phase, more or less calling a games personality an asshole that people were afraid to piss off. Said personality then proceeded to prove him right by waiting a month or two after his big heel turn, posting a list of everyone who liked that post, and telling her audience that these were people who “are holding down women of color in games.” Almost every person on that list was a transgender woman. That detail will be important later.
These women all ended up being targeted for harassment. One of these woman I wrote about before: smeared as a nazi sympathizer and an abuser, who would ultimately be abused by her own wife, before getting kicked out of their home in the dead of Winter, because she liked a tweet. Let me reiterate: a trans woman with a physical disability and a heart condition was left in a situation where she could have conceivably died, because of an internet post made by someone else. A cisgender man in Malaysia does something fucked up, and the blame is laid at the feet of a trans woman in Canada.
Here’s another one. Remember “The Allyzone?” A guy at Amazon makes a bad Twitter post while the rest of us are all in bed, and it leads to this years-long mess of bullshit that targets everyone but the guy who coined that term in the first place? Around the same time, there was a trans woman who was making her name keeping tabs on the actions of hate groups, in an attempt to prove that it wasn’t all a bunch of edgy teens trolling each other on 4chan. But because she was mutual Twitter followers with the guy, suddenly she’s now a “performative activist” and a “bad queer ally.” And on top of that, Milo Yiannopoulos called you a pedophile, and he’s a man that has never lied about anything! Again, a cis man does something wrong, and a trans woman on the opposite end of the country gets labeled a pedophile (despite there being physical proof to the contrary).
That is two women, who I am friends with, who had their lives completely torn apart because of things that they didn’t even do. Because of tweets! Do you understand how fucking stupid the term “tweet” is? It brings me actual, physical pain to say or to type. You may as well jam some bamboo shoots under my fingernails every time I have to say “tweet” in an attempt to illustrate how fucked it is that innocent people got destroyed because they were in the fallout range of an internet callout. If you ever wanted to know why I felt that the indie games scene was a transphobic joke for years, and why I still sometimes bristle at the use of the term “AltGames,” now you know.
Now let me bring things to the current day. A popular musician was the subject of a callout because she once talked to and associated with another musician who turned out to be a sexual predator. Not because she herself did anything wrong, but because she knew someone who did. And she’s not the only one; a lot of us were willing to believe this person when they claimed their innocence. Hell, I did.
This woman, a CSA survivor, was accused of being a facilitator of child abuse because she had a tangential connection to an actual abuser. Now, speaking as someone who was also molested as a child, that is probably one of the worst things you can to say to someone like that, maybe second only to “you deserved it.” Unsurprisingly, she ended up having a massive panic attack as a result.
This is why I hate the concept of the callout: not because I have an insatiable appetite for racism and child pornography and would like to see the providers of such left alone, but because the shit doesn’t work. It never hurts the actual target, and utterly annihilates those on the sidelines. IMC still makes his living as a reactionary writer. Izzy Galvez still works for Amazon*. 4lung is still a popular musician. Hell, you can straight up admit to attempted rape, disappear for a few months, then reemerge with Macaulay Caulkin and Kenny Omega promoting your latest work. My friend’s shitty ex-wife? Fairly big name in the field of video games preservation; you’ve probably played one of the games she saved. A number of you follow her online. Hell, one of you even went to her house a few weeks ago to watch movies and play video games. I’m not about to write a big callout post accusing you all of supporting wife beating. The attempt at no-platforming never hits the mark. It always misses, and hits some unrelated, innocent person, instead. It’s not a coincidence so many people who are cast away tend to be trans, queer, and flat broke. Abusers are still not only still around, but actively thriving. Again, the shit doesn’t work.
*I understand that it’s a bit fucked up to put “said a dumb thing on the internet” in the same category as “being a nazi” and “admitting to being a ‘minor-attracted person’ on your private Twitter,” but I think you understand what I’m trying to get across here. You’re mad at him, but you’re going to take your anger out of someone in the periphery.
Another thing about all of this that gets to me, is how many people attempt to convince you that a person is bad based on screencaps they pulled from Kiwi Farms. Hell, a person that I’m told is a fairly prominent queer voice even outright said that “Kiwi Farms has a use.” Bullshit. Kiwi Farms does not have a use. It has never had a use, and it will never have a use. It is a website that once had a thread on its front page titled, “How to make trannies kill themselves.” I could go into all the heinous, criminal shit that they get up to, but I’ll simply say this: Kiwi Farms is populated by a group of rocket scientists that think I’m into bestiality because I said “dicks out for Harambe.” It’s not “problematic” for anyone, let alone a trans person, to discount anything they say.
And there are those that would say that despite all the terrible things they do, Kiwi Farms has targeted people who turned out to be predators themselves. Basically saying that all the innocent people who have been doxxed, harassed, and stalked for years on end for reasons ranging from “being an outspoken activist” to “saying ‘Abolish ICE’ a few too many times” are expendable, because one or two of them might be bad. These people, who we have already established are being targeted until they commit suicide, are an acceptable loss. You are saying that I am an acceptable loss.
Let me respond as such: Fuck you. I am nobody’s acceptable loss.
To see my fellow transes use this place as a source is pretty fucking depressing, honestly. Though, by now, I should not be surprised. We like to assume that the people who do this are mostly anonymous 16-year olds with K-Pop avatars. And that’s mostly true, but there’s a lot of people doing this shit that are in their 20s, even their 30s. Like, you’re adults! Grow up!
This all brings me to my point: I have given up on trying to endear myself to a community. Trying to do that is what got me dragged into all this bullshit in the first place. Too much toxic bullshit. Too much stupid discourse. And honestly? It’s all because of one thing: everyone is terrified of pissing off cis people. That’s pretty much it. Allyship is a fucking joke, and we work a lot better for them as a concept, not as actual people. When they are reminded that we have thoughts and feelings, and that we shit and fuck like they do, that’s a problem. You want proof of that? Look how they sided with Mike Cernovich, the Gamergate Cum Lawyer, over Chelsea Goddamn Manning. How often does The Discourse revolve around sex? Kink at Pride. Offbeat fetishes being likened to pedophilia, even if children aren’t involved (anyone else remember that poor woman who got harassed for the Nier Automata Force-Femme fanfic she wrote for Waypoint?). How dare you call yourself a bisexual lesbian! It’s fucking stupid. And it muddies the waters when actual predators infiltrate our spaces, claiming that them jacking it to kids is the same as someone in their mid-20s putting something up their butt on their webcam.
My advice to you is this: be trashy. Be problematic. Be yourself. Because guess what? Even if you do your best to keep your head down, your mouth shut, and your pants on, all it takes is you laughing at the wrong joke and you’re fucked, dude. You will be judged, hated, even doxxed at your most benign, so you might as well go out of your way to make terrible people uncomfortable.
I’ve given up on community. I simply wish to exist as my own person, making the art I want, and chilling out, having a good time not having to worry about upsetting some faceless “influencer” with delusions of adequacy. And if you would like to come with me on this wild ride, feel free to do so. I wish to be there for my friends and loved ones, because they are what’s important. Not some hashtag and staying on the good side of some asshole I’ll never even meet.
And another reason why I’ve given up on community is because I am so tired of seeing these childish, saccharine calls for unity. We have to stick together, ya’ll! There are actual nazis out there, and we need to fight them!
I do not wish to stand side-by-side with rapists, pedophiles, domestic abusers, white supremacists, gamergate supporters, neoliberals, centrist assimilationists who condemn Chelsea Manning while putting over Contrapoints like she’s the result of Marcia P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera doing the Fusion Dance, jackoffs using Kiwi Farms and Breitbart to harm other trans women, or anyone else that would willingly harm me. And you shouldn’t either! Be there for the people you care about; the ones that won’t leave you on the whims of someone who still thinks this is 2012 Tumblr. That’s what matters.
A couple of things before I launch into this proper: one, I had to remake my Twitter account not too long ago. Long story short: old one was getting hit by constant mass reporting by The Gamers, and I was tired of being suspended constantly, so you can find me over here now.
Two, someone made fan art for one of my Mario Maker levels! It’s really cool!
This week was a pretty rough one, involving me grappling with my terrible mental health. So naturally, because I’m not so loaded that I can do bourgeois things like “take medication” or “seek therapy,” I figured I would write about it.
The thing about being Bipolar is that you are constantly being assailed by this voice in your head. A voice that will helpfully remind you at every turn how worthless you are; that you don’t have any talent, your friends don’t actually like you, everyone is out to get you. You are kept on a diet of paranoid ideas. When I’m having a bad time, that’s when the voice gets louder, until it finally provokes a response where it feels like I’m being taken over by every negative emotion at once. I get depressed, often times to the point of deleting everything I’ve ever made, or talking about detransitioning, and even suicidal ideation. I get mad; wanting to punch a hole in the wall (which I can’t do because I have tiny girly arms) or scream at someone I don’t like. I want to give in to every self-destructive impulse, and drive away everyone I care about because Fuck Them, They Don’t Like Me Anyway.
I feel guilty and embarrassed every single time this happens. How could I let myself lose control like that? Especially over a catalyst that’s either so painfully minuscule, or completely non-existent. My emotional state reduces me to that of a Heath Ledger Joker roleplay account. And even though I mostly managed to keep my last outburst to myself, I still feel like shit for even thinking that way. “Fuck other people, they’re all assholes and I don’t fucking need them!” “They’re never around when I need them!” “I really wish they would stop lying about liking me or liking my work when it’s obvious that they don’t!” And all this other shit that I know isn’t actually true. What kind of selfish asshole am I? I get frustrated when some of my art does low numbers, and my stupid ass blames everyone else for not sharing it enough, despite the fact that I don’t have a large audience, due to a lot of my own words and actions, and how even if I did, it’s still so easy to get lost in the always-updated timeline of social media. Expecting people who are busy with their own lives to monitor my every move, as though the world revolves around me. It’s stupid and unrealistic and what the hell is wrong with me and so on.
Or the opposite happens: something I make gets popular, and I get all sorts of wonderful positive reviews and compliments, and I can’t accept them. I know where all of my mistakes and flaws are, this wasn’t my best, and on top of that, I’m the worthless jerk-off who made it, so what kind of fucking asshole would sit there and say otherwise? That’s the fucked up part: I can never be happy. Either I make something that has a low “engagement,” and I get mad that it’s not more popular (not really for money reasons; more due to a massive amount of childhood trauma that’s too long to get into here), or I make something everyone loves, and I get mad that nobody is honest enough to tear it apart like it deserves. Like I deserve. I opened this post with that Mario fanart, and I’m of two minds. The first part is being really happy that someone liked something of mine so much that they drew a picture to show it. The other part of me is second guessing everything. I don’t deserve that kind of adulation. What’s this person’s game? Is this a joke?
Now, looking at this logically, it’s fucking stupid. There is no way a Japanese woman on a pseudonymous video game comments section, who I will most likely never meet or speak to at any point in my life, took time out of her life to draw a picture of something I worked on just to fuck with me. There are potentially millions of people on the Mario Maker server, someone singling me out of all those people is fucking ludicrous. But when you’re sick, you aren’t thinking logically.
There was a documentary released last year called Bipolar Rock n’ Roller. It follows Mauro Ranallo, a sports announcer, as he does his job while struggling with Bipolar and anxiety. There’s a scene where he’s in a hotel room after calling this major fight. He’s looking at Twitter on his phone, reading all the positive comments fans are giving him for the job he did. Mauro responds by throwing his phone down on the desk, taking his glasses off, and just saying “fuck off.” Because he knows all the mistakes he made that night, and all the small ways he thinks he fucked up. Who would praise that?
Like I said, it’s very hard to be happy, even when you have every reason to be.
Last year, there was an incident. I was working on a project with my friend Gabi. One of the worst kept secrets in the world is how much I care about and for her. I’d rather fucking crawl through broken glass than do anything to hurt her. Anyways. We were working on this game, and I was doing the graphics. The project called for all of the enemy sprites to have a special keyframe where they were at a 45 degree angle. Now, when you’re working with an image that’s 16 x 16 pixels, you can’t just click “rotate” in Photoshop and call it good. You’re left with an indecipherable blob. So you have to redraw everything, which doesn’t sound that difficult! I had no problem doing them at their regular angles. But for whatever reason, I could not redraw these characters in a way that didn’t look terrible. And I started getting that frustration-driven cloud forming over me again. I wasn’t mad the project. I certainly wasn’t mad at Gabi. I was mad at myself, because I couldn’t do something that seemed so fucking simple, and I was letting everyone down. And Gabi sensed it, trying to calm me down, telling me that what I done was perfectly fine, but I wasn’t really hearing it that night. And that froze my heart in place. Because I realized that, holy shit, I had shown someone I care about my “dark side.” That thing I try to keep hidden as best I can (at least, in a 1-on-1 setting; my old social media feeds are a different story). And it wasn’t even me at my worst. I wasn’t yelling, or being a dumbshit edgelord, I was just having a hard time and not being able to deal with it like a non-crazy person. The last thing I want to do is have that part of me exposed to someone that should never have to see that. Now, I’m all but certain she’s completely forgotten about this (or at least, until she reads about here), but I still feel guilty about it even now.
The part that really scares me about all of this, and why I brought up that old incident, is because I don’t know what the “real me” is. Am I the easy-going idiot who plays too many video games and wants nothing more than a quiet life with my friends? Or am I the angry, bitter, selfish piece of shit that yells and wants to get into fights because I’m self-destructive and it’s a good way to disguise the fact there is nobody on this planet I hate more than myself? I don’t know. And it’s hard, but I’m trying really hard to make that first description the “real me” some day.
I can’t let that other side win. It’s a constant battle, one that I feel like surrendering to sometimes. But there are a lot of people who have stuck with me, despite multiple reasons why they shouldn’t, and I guess I owe it to them to try, even if I don’t always feel like doing it for myself. My fucked up brain has actually been pretty alright today, which is why I’m able to write this now, and I would like for that to keep happening. But there’s no guarantee. It’s not an enemy attack, or a natural disaster, The Bad Times can come back without warning, or reason. But I promise I’ll keep trying.
Hi everyone. I’ve been meaning to make a blog post for the last few weeks. But bad brain things and painful memories all happened, and I didn’t feel like writing a long-form post mid-meltdown. Now that things have stabilized a bit, let’s fucking do this.
There’s no real point to this post. Felt like doing another “say shit for the sake of saying it” thing. I got done doing some house sitting for the past week, and during that time, I finished not one, but two Zelda games. Zelda is a series that I’ve slept on for most of my life, as I grew up so ardently pro-Sega that I felt they were inferior to faster paced, less linear games in the same vein, like Beyond Oasis or Ys. In recent years, I’ve found that actually, no, they’re really good! The only downside is that they fall victim to the dreaded “I put the game down for a short time, then forgot what I was supposed to do when I picked it back up, so I’m going to have to start all over” syndrome. So while I’ve played and enjoyed the hell of out Zelda, I uh, haven’t finished that many of them. Before this, the only game under my belt was The Minish Cap. But I persevered, and beat both Breath of the Wild (though not at 100% completion), and the first Legend of Zelda.
I’d like to eventually get done with Link’s Awakening (probably end up waiting for the remake) and Majora’s Mask. Because I feel like a poser, calling those my favorites in the series, when I haven’t even finished them!
That’s pretty much about it. Now that I’m back home, I’ve resumed working on my game, which is coming along nicely, and hopefully will get a new demo out soon. So look forward to that.
Hold on, there’s not enough stuff here. I’m going to post a song too.
Today, I paid the $119/year price to keep this site alive. Which is important, as it contains my work: my art, my writing, my game stuff. Things that I make, and would like people to see. But I do have this problem: I do not post on it enough. And I should, because it’s expensive to own it! So maybe I should change that?
I’ve been going through some old uploaded photos and music for posts that have long since been deleted (roughly from 2010-2014), thinking about how I used to use this. I would post whatever old bullshit on here. Music reviews, short impressions of whatever games I was playing at the time, lewd photos of me, stories I had written, things I had made, and eventually, gamedev diaries for an unreleased project. I divided my time between this, and my Tumblr, where I would shitpost endlessly. Then that whole “Gamergate” thing happened, and something snapped in my mind, causing me to spend these past few years yelling at nazis, then yelling at a bunch of games people who are probably cool, but thought were assholes because I got suckered by con artists and centrist racists trying to make a quick buck off other peoples’ suffering. Then shit changed. If I did post here, it was some angry screed about GG/Indie Games stuff that pissed me off. Or how something transphobic happened and I wasn’t cool with it. It wasn’t fun anymore. And that sucks, because you should have fun with something like this. You’re not restricted by a character limit, or because you posted something pornographic, or because you told a bigot to fall into a toilet after they threatened to come to your house and murder you while posting your address. Like, check this out:
Bam, two anime dudes getting gangbanged. I’m not going to get kicked off my own website for twelve hours for posting it, or getting it deleted and my avatar turned into a mess of pixels, or anything stupid like that. What manga is this from? Fuck dude, I wish I knew! But that’s the kind of freedom I have. Not much of a point to me posting it, either, other than “I can.” And that’s fun! It’s fun to make a post like this, and probably fun for you to read. You come here to see what I’m thinking about, and then you get an eyeful of hot anime boys sucking some dicks. Think I’ll post a song, too. Hold on.
There’s no real point to this post. Other than to make one, and to remind myself that this doesn’t have to be a hole for me to scream into, like it has been for so long. I’m trying to let go of that old anger as much as I can. It fucking sucks being mad all the time, and it’s even worse to realize that you were mad at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. This is my digital home. I’m the boss here, with no right-wing douchebag to tell me what to post (I mean, okay, I have a webhost provider, but I doubt they’ll suddenly drop me after being a paying customer for over a decade), or anyone to leave me to get annoyed to death by harassment. And that’s good!
Anyways here’s another spicy pic I found in the media archive:
Think I’ll post about video games next time. Spring is coming up, and that’s when I like to fire up the PS3 and play a specific set of games. Maybe I’ll learn to hack the thing and play whatever I want on it, too.
Been a while since my last post. And a lot has happened during that time. Some personal revelations and events that I feel like I need to write about and try to clear the air about where I’m at and where I want to go. Again, I mean. But first, I need to explain myself by dipping into the past. I’m going to avoid naming names as best I can; this isn’t a big righteous, angry, CM Punk-esque “pipebomb” or some shit.
Despite my best efforts with literally everything I have ever done to change my reputation, be it art, streaming, podcasting, or writing, I am unfortunately only known for one thing: my intense hatred of the Alt-Games community. Whenever I meet a new person, they’ll inform me that they know me because a bunch of people really don’t fucking like me. It kind of sucks.
But why? I will tell you.
I have a friend. Really nice trans woman. She does some great things with digital music and the Unreal Engine. In the Spring of 2015, we both got caught up in a fight between two cis women, and a meaningless article on a website that died in under a year. We took the writers’ side, because she was a charismatic, but very sympathetic woman whose mere existence was enough of a catalyst for the creation of the modern day “Alt-Right.”
Fast forward to the Winter. Her (now ex) partner starts becoming abusive. The abuse then escalated to her being kicked out of their home. This woman is physically disabled, and was diagnosed with a heart condition only days before. Now she’s sick and alone in the middle of a Canadian Winter. The reason for her removal was “[Popular figure in Indie Games] doesn’t like you, and that will hurt my career.”
The popular figure in question was the woman who got mad at the writer of the article we liked. Now I have a friend who is homeless and suicidal (and in my book, intentionally trying to drive a person to suicide is no different than attempted murder) after one of the most meaningful relationships in her life suddenly becomes abusive, and the only reasons given for it is: video games. A human being could conceivably die for the sake of some Twine games you can knock out in five minutes.
That was 2015. I’m writing this in February of 2019. Her living situation is still very, very fucked. Her reputation is in the toilet, being referred to as “the real abuser” and someone that you should steer clear off, if she hadn’t already gone off the grid in a self-imposed exile.
I have a friend whose life have just been destroyed, seemingly for no other reason than because a woman got mad at an article on a video game website. Of course I’m pissed off about it! I demand that somebody answers for this!
That didn’t happen. Rather, my anger was reduced to a narrative that I was nothing more than a mindless, racist foot soldier, acting at the behest of an Amazon employee, a Youtube personality, and a guy that won Jeopardy! a couple times. It was bullshit, and only made me angrier. My whole motivation was an answer to what could apparently made a person so powerful that people were literally willing to kill for her? And why are so many people telling me that I’m full of shit, despite numerous other people coming forward with their own stories?
I was lumped into some arbitrary group called the “Allyzone,” or “Anti-Gamergate,” depending on who was talking that day. Allyzone being a reference to a deleted tweet made by said Amazon employee (which, looking at the time stamps, was made when I still in bed). I’m suddenly cut off from numerous communities of other queer/trans artists. People I’ve never even heard of all think that I’m the reincarnation of Hitler. And then I receive thinly-veiled threats on this very blog that if I don’t shut up, then “friends and family can be dragged into this.” Trying to intimidate me into silence, so that other people close to me don’t suddenly and coincidentally find themselves smeared and harassed, driven out of spaces they need.
I know folks like to hate-read my stuff, so I ask you to put yourself into my position for a bit: someone close to you has been hurt. At the very least, you would like to see the people who did it face consequences, or at least someone to try and rectify things. Not be called a racist hack making up claims of abuse while being threatened with the safety of your other friends. You would probably be upset if this happened to you, right?
So for me, I considered “Allyzone” and “Anti-GG” to be nothing more than transphobic dogwhistles used by assholes. Sure, they claimed they were only interested in dunking on shitty cis men, but I mean, were they? I didn’t pull hundreds of dollars out of my already meager savings account to keep a disabled cis man from freezing to death under a bridge in Vancouver. I wasn’t up until 5 in the morning on Discord for weeks at a time, trying to convince a group of cis men that suicide wasn’t the answer. And I didn’t have to watch as a group of people who purport to be leftists and card-carrying DSA members knowingly and gleefully share a thoroughly debunked, discredited Breitbart article falsely accusing a cis man of pedophilia.
This was how I saw things. For years.
But things have begun to start changing.
One, the obvious matter of “holy fucking shit, turns out a lot of people I associated with during that time are complete fucking assholes! I thought the whole ‘being hella racist’ and being a rape-apologist/actual rapist was just an Alt-Games thing!” Maybe I should actually read my Twitter timeline instead of focusing on people I chose to follow for reasons other than “I felt bad they got SWAT teams sent to their house because racists thought it would be funny.” Also not being friends with Zoe anymore.
Two, the queer games group that I’m part of. I’m part of Game and Love. So too is an Alt-Games person. They joined after me, and when I saw the news, I groaned and said to myself that shit would be awkward. But, I would remain civil; I wasn’t about to start a fight in someone else’s house, you know?
And hey, wouldn’t you know, turns out that actually talking to someone, instead of simply assuming the worst via posts on a website that truncates your thoughts and thrives on chaos, lets you know that they’re not that bad! We have a lot in common! We have similar interests, with a love of Sega games and Sonic the Hedgehog. I came away from a conversation thinking, “damn, dude, I think I would like to be friends with this person!” It’s just a shame that we’re separated by a line of, I don’t know…circumstance? Ideology? Whatever it is, I find myself growing more resentful of it. Because if I was so wrong about all these people I thought were cool, and I was wrong about this person I thought was an asshole, who else have I been wrong about?
I spent so much time being resentful at having a friend go through so much suffering that I just assumed everyone was a mindless drone living in fear of a handful of shitty people, that I didn’t realize that I was putting them into the same narrative of the “Allyzone” that I had put into. Turns out we weren’t really all that different in the end. It wasn’t a grand conspiracy to do harm, we just wanted to support our friends.
Third, the HBomberguy stream. I watched as, if only for a weekend, everyone was united. People that would otherwise spit on one another were joined together for a common goal. And it wasn’t like some overly dramatic Independence Day kind of shit, it was a British dude playing a bad video game for charity! It probably sounds stupid, but it gave me hope.
I’ve spent the last month or so seriously contemplating reaching out to some (not all, some of you can still fuck off) of these people. To say, hey, we got caught up in other people’s bullshit, and it only hurt us in the end. This is a new year. A new time. Maybe we should start over. And given that it’s cool to dunk on Gamergate again, and cool to call Indie Games “Punk,” maybe we can get a do-over too?
Of course, there’s always the possibility that it’s too late for me. I talked a lot of shit about them for a long time. I know that forgiveness and trust are things that have to be earned, and I could very well never earn them. But it wouldn’t hurt if I at least tried to make the effort, right?
One of the gifts I was given for Christmas was Mega Man Legacy Collection 1+2 on the Switch. Thanks Mom. Now, I already have the first Legacy Collection. Three copies of it, in fact (PC, 3DS, PS4). You know, hey, when you like someone’s product, you sometimes have to give them a little walking around money (even though I didn’t actually pay for two of them, but let’s roll with this bit). But I wanted the second specifically so that I could replay Mega Man 9 and 10 without needing to plug the Wii back in and have to fuck around with replacing batteries.
So I turned on the game, loaded up and played through Mega Man 9. And…it…
it fucking sucked!
This isn’t really meant to be like a review or anything, but I’ll just say this: the game is way too fucking hard. It’s very much a product of its time, where seemingly every platformer had to be hard as fuck (see examples: Super Meat Boy, I Wanna Be The Guy), or else you weren’t a real man or whatever. Keiji Inafune straight up admitted a lot of the level design for the game was inspired by a meme on Nico Nico Douga; a cute, funny little music video that exaggerated the difficulty of Mega Man 2. And as a result, the game suffered tremendously. Mega Man games are not that hard. Or at least, they weren’t.
Now, getting back on topic, of which there is no real topic other than me going on a nostalgic ramble about shit that happened ten years ago (or about).
So, Mega Man. I played it as a kid. I had the Wily Wars (via the Sega Channel), which was an ugly, buggy remake of Mega Man 1-3 with terrible controls. I also had one of the shitty Game Boy ones. And I liked them, mostly because I didn’t know any better; that there were better versions of the games out there. But then I sort of dropped off from caring about the games as a teenager. I don’t why, really. I remember being really annoyed at the deluge of shitty OC Remixes of the otherwise great music. The sprite comics (do people still make those?). Playing the X games (which I don’t really like) and being annoyed at the attempts at gritty drama. And I say all this despite the fact that I was, and still am, huge into Sonic the Hedgehog, which had all of these things. Not sure why I was so accepting of Sonic’s melodrama, but felt that Mega Man could fuck off. In any event, I didn’t care about Mega Man for a long time.
Then I became an adult. And I know that I’ve talked about this a lot, but it bears repeating: having a full-time job with weird hours that prevents you from having any sort of outside life really fucks with you. Waking up at 4 am every morning and clocking in at 5, and not a minute later, or else you would be locked out of the building fucking sucks. I’m not a morning person even at the best of times, and it was even worse here. Slowly wake up in the frozen Colorado weather, drink some coffee, throw on my uniform, and see what’s on TV, just so I have some noise to keep me from going back to bed. What’s on TV at four in the fucking morning? Nothing! There are infomercials for crap you will never need or want (I think “Hip Hop Abs” was the hottest thing at the time), or some decrepit televangelist saying something racist or homophobic.
Eventually, I remembered that Adult Swim existed, and they would start airing reruns of Astro Boy. That little robot boy borne the pain of the world for me. I was in this transition period in my life: losing contact with my high school friends and working all the time to the point that the only friends I had were my co-workers. I had a lot of free time on my hands. I consumed a lot of media. I started listening to Bowie. I started listening to shoegaze. I was looking at pictures of outer space, and then getting into Noctis. I wanted to become an artist, because I hated being an inventory manager for a company that would frequently threaten to fire you in the most passive-aggressive manner, even when you were doing well.
This was also around the same time that the beginning of the modern day “Indie” scene in games really started to pick up steam. I loved video games! I wanted to be an artist! Maybe I could start to make my own stuff! Granted, even back then, I knew that “the scene,” as it were, was a total joke. Thin-skinned, buffoonish white men like Jon Blow were hailed as visionaries who would “save” games from the evil major corporations, despite having the promotional backing of said corporations, and then would proceed to do fuck all in regards to not helping perpetuate the cycle of exploitation in game development. I figured that eventually things would change for the better. Ten years later, things haven’t changed much. Oh well.
And if it wasn’t Braid, it was usually a game about two squares bumping into one another meant to symbolize the creator’s unrequited love for a girl he saw walk past Starbucks a couple days ago, that would be getting all sorts of love and attention. At the time, I had no artistic talent! I had unrequited feelings for a girl! I could be an indie superstar! I have an external hard drive still full of shit I worked on, but never released, because of pesky things like “personal pride” and “what the fuck dude I’m not shameless enough to put this bullshit out there publicly.” Unless there’s suddenly a demand for a really short Knytt Stories level I put together. Or an attempt at a point and click adventure that never got past one room.
Now, here’s where Mega Man comes in. I decided to actually try and complete a Mega Man game, now that I was an adult. Mostly because I was finally starting to pick up on the fact that hey, he looks an awful lot like Astro Boy! I picked Mega Man 2. Mega Man 2 is the best one in the series. You see, not only was indie game development making waves, so too was indie games criticism. People writing long meandering pieces about their personal lives that tangentially connects to the game in question they’re writing about. I was going to do that, too. I had grand dreams of being a writer; it was literally the one skill I had as a teenager, aside from being really good at taking a beating. The plan was to make games, and write about them, too. I was eventually going to be one of those cool kids on Select Button (though seeing as how I’m now on one of their podcasts, I guess I am?) that everyone loved even though I was pretentious and completely full of shit (this parenthetical aside to let you know this is a subtle shot at another artist I don’t like). Mega Man is a cute, adorable character who does his best. I was too busy trying to be “deep” and be one of the boys, that I didn’t bother to stop and think about why I liked all this cutesy, brightly-colored shit with feminine leanings to it. But that’s another ramble for another day.
Mega Man 9 was coming out soon. I was so pumped for it. And I got it, and I played it, and I never made it past the first Wily level. I wouldn’t make it past that level until like a week ago. So I instead bought the Endless Attack DLC and pretty much spent all my time with that. The lesson of Mega Man 9 is that it’s fucking shit, but the Endless Attack is incredibly fun and well worth buying the game for. It’s good for a quick run before you have to go to bed, because you need to be up way too early tomorrow. But at least you’ll have an episode of Astro Boy to keep you company when you do.
The real point of this whole post, aside from taking an opportunity to talk about loving Astro Boy and Mega Man, is that this all came together in this period of self-discovery. A time of trying to figure out my place in the world. While the talent wasn’t there, the ambition and the inspiration certainly was. I’m trying to get back to that point. For too long, I’ve been complacent, or focusing on other things that completely killed my drive and did nothing but hurt me in the end (see: bitter angry end of the year blog post). I need to go back to that idealistic me. I tried to fucking kill myself back in September, and I never want to go back to that dark place again. I’m a much different person now than I was then, and the world is much different too. But there still has to be that little spark somewhere. Hopefully I’ll find it.
Today is New Years Eve. Now that I’ve gotten my angry, bitter end of the year post out of the way, this is going to be the opposite. Rather, I’m going to talk about the good things. And the things I want more of in 2019.
First, to all my friends. Thank you for sticking with me, even when you probably had better things to do than deal with my weird, mentally ill ass. That goes for all of you I’ve known for years, whose bonds I like to think I’ve strengthened, and for all the wonderful people I’ve met this year. I know that I’m probably not the easiest person to be around, or listen to, or look at, but I appreciate you all being there nonetheless. Gabi, Charlotte, Sarah, SF, Hushy, Pode, Nora, Amanda, Alex, Melly, Sasha, Zedra, Other Sara, and anyone else I forgot because I’m writing this bullshit off the top of my head: you’re all great, and I love you.
Second, to everyone who has supported my work. Everyone who has liked, shared, or even paid for my art. Or just hung around in general. One of the “great” things about Bipolar Disorder is that it makes me paranoid as fuck; constantly being annoyed by a voice telling me that I don’t actually have any real friends, and that everyone is just here to gawk at me like some sideshow freak, waiting for my next big breakdown, like I’m Chris-chan or DarkSydePhil or something. Probably doesn’t help that there are people who are only around to gawk at me like some sideshow freak, waiting for my next big breakdown. I absolutely melted down over this a few weeks ago, which is something I’m still very much ashamed of. And every so often I have to look at those numbers on “social media” or itch.io or whatever and see that that’s not actually true. So thank you all.
Third, to all the groups and outlets that took a chance on me. Snexploration, for letting me tell stupid jokes into a microphone and pretend like I’m not a complete dunce while trying to say deep things about Super Nintendo games (look forward to the Wizardry episode…sometime soon I don’t know). Game and Love, for being willing to put me up front and center to a queer games audience, despite the baggage that comes with my name (and shout out to the one member of the group who I know absolutely hates my guts, but has been willing to at least be civil in the discord; this is an actual thank you, not some passive-aggressive swipe). And apologies for only writing about games on a sporadic basis as of late. Maybe that will change in 2019. PC Gamer, that one time they published my piece on Fire Pro Wrestling’s welcoming community, before it completely fell apart due to petty drama and the owner of Fire Pro Club being a pedophile, retroactively making me look like a goddamned fool. So you know, thanks for that, I guess. Assholes.
Fourth, MY GIRLFRIEND.
I know that shit’s been rough the last few months, and we haven’t really had the time to have a relationship due to that. But I’m hoping this coming year will spare us the bullshit, and we can go back to being gay dumbasses the way god (or as I call him, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, while I walk around Barnes and Noble putting copies of the Bible in the “fiction” department) intended.
2019 is going to involve me (hopefully) leaving the bullshit in the past. A year where I become a better friend, a better partner, and a better artist. And if I’m lucky, maybe even a better person. But let’s not push our luck, here. In the meantime, I’m going to ride out the last few hours of the year, feeling pretty good for not giving into the temptation to start drinking again (four month anniversary is the 7th!).