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March 15, 2020

The pandemic seems frightening and novel at times but often it just seems to be a realization of reality as the world has denied it, and I find it very familiar to be in this place. I hope it doesn’t get worse, the changes so far seem unbelievable, so I don’t have much faith in hope. I just want to protect my parents, and get used to eating less because I might have to. But to be on the precipice of this reminds me of why I was drawn to art, video games, and why I’ve felt so cheated, so disappointed every time some communist writer joined the staff and changed everything. They/them pin the audience issues on racism, bigotry, that there’s no way we could accept a female protagonist or whatever, but the familiarity of the threat suggests to me that the version of reality they’ve pushed into franchises is just fake because they’re fake and the premise of all their beliefs and motivations is all fake. Reality has felt fake lately, and I think it’s because nearly everything is at least somewhat affected by people who live in a swamp of SSRIs and ideology, people who have mastered the world of HR and grievance. The potential for the world to hurtle into disaster has always been here, and that constant threat is what made the darkness of certain art comforting. That darkness was discarded like old coffee grounds in favor of “badass” and empty characters designed to push a version of reality that was empty as the people who believe in it. I hope we make it out of this, I hope I can protect those around me, and I hope art can now be freed from the fake and empty because we have awoken in a real world again.