I hit twenty-six last week and, suddenly, I feel old. Really, old, depressed and tired. “My skin’s losing its texture, I’m putting on weight”; the complaints are real, but the motivation behind them is a maudlin introspection. All the usual complaints of middle age stem from a fear of death, or at least a fear of not having achieved all that you could.
And I feel old, because of the young people in my industry. At least I should, as I met one just now who was only seventeen, but actually most of them are my age or older; I’m the bottom tier, and they’re all ageing with me. There’s something horrid about some of them as well, who see this career as a passport to better things, to fame and immortality; you know my thoughts on that (for those who don’t, avoid la peur.) I feel ambition to be filthy, especially ambition by the credulous, leery and stupid. I don’t mind justified ambition, the few people I meet (like the sparkling Leo Tan) who are ambitious and talented I respect and wish the best to. It's the mediocrities hauling themselves up by ambition in the absence of the talented that really get on my nerves.
Anyway, I could claim fame and fortune. I could self-promote. This week I've organised three (maybe more, we'll see) world-exclusive reviews of games that are going to make tens of millions of dollars for a console that's not even out yet. There's a bit of self-promotion. I couldn't care less though; I just want to get the job done, make a good magazine, write some bad puns and get back to my books and MMOs. (And, possibly, socialise a little). Is that too much to ask?
Oh, yes, I'll be playing City of Villains as either The Man-Bat or The Ludocrat, if anyone's interested.
Being a general exposition of the happenings, unoccurences, and mental processes of one Daniel C Griliopoulos Esq., MA Hones (sheep). Deposit your felicitations in my happy sack: spamdaniel.griliopoulos@gmail.com
8 comments:
I spent forty minutes creating a demented zombie surgeon called the Hippocratic Oaf today. As soon as I got in the game, I discovered his hands pass through his labcoat when he puts them on his hips, his collar flickers betweeen two colours, and bits of his leg stick through his clothes when he runs. Right there City Of Villains and I parted ways. I'm going back to my hero.
Ah, y'see, that's a feature. I used large barbed wire mitts beneath his long sleeves to give The Man-Bat the impression of being awesomely hairy.
Anyway, it looks like you and I will be on opposing sides - are you on the Defiant server? What's your Hero called?
'Filthy!'hehe. Ambition comes in more than one flavour you know ;)
To quote Macbeth, "Art not without ambition, but without the illness should attend it..."
It does come in multiple flavours, yes; justified and unjustified. Don't worry Jez, your ambitions are justified. As are Ben's to "To sleep with Tom Jones and a meet a fragdoll." (I think that was them.)
Ah, justified and unjustified. Is there some kind of independent governing body to decide, or should I just ask the Magic 8 Ball? :)
Ah, the claim to epistemological uncertainty. "We can't decide what anything means without an independent arbiter. But who decides who is an independent arbiter? We'll need an independent arbiter for that..." I think that's Sextus Empiricus, isn't it? :)
Well, to refute one oldie's paradox with another, I'll go back to Plato "Right-thinking men" should find it easy to recognise justified ambition. Of course, only right-thinking men recognise right-thinking men...
Anyway, my argument was that ambition is justified in a field where there is talent in that field. I would not call the singulaly untalented Bez's ambition in the music industry justified, though, again, he seemed one curiously without ambition (or at least without that "illness" that accompanies it.) I would call Jeremy's ambition to set-up a leading car website justified, because he has all the requisites for this field; knowledge, analysis, writing skills, ability to make and retain PR contacts, and the willingness to see the project through (though I worry he lacks the driving illness to go with that ambition.)
Dan mate, I think you just don't like cunts.
Yes.
YES!
I don't like Cunts.
You're absolutely right, Jof. Cutting to the chase as always.
(That is Jon of Johf Brown Publishing, isn't it?)
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