To define myself in the broadest terms, I am a human being, nothing more, nothing less. Many qualities describe me past that, both internally and externally, but they do nothing but lessen from my true self. For as a human being, I am a questioner of reality. Just as early man questioned his existence as an animal, I question the reality of my existence as an animal. I am one of a race of creatures called man.
My primary interest and tool in this endeavor are role-playing games. Elaborate games of make believe in which the participants explore real life by interacting with fictional worlds strikingly similar to our own. Worlds where creatures like vampires stalk the concrete jungle in the night, and magic is real. In these games I try to show people that monsters do stalk the water holes and trails of this jungle, but crosses do nothing to ward them off, and magic is real, though I have never seen a spell cast with eye of newt. Monsters and magic exist, in the hearts and souls of man. I try to show my fellow animals, and myself, that the world is only as real as we make it. The stories I tell are universal, beyond the surface, what is the difference between today and the writing of Tolkien or other “fantasy” authors? Men with power over the elements are able to teleport themselves across the world at blinding speeds, man can kill others with but word and secret gesture, if they have the correct fetish, illness and curses are cured with magic potions every day. Is it magic, or is it airplanes, guns and medicines?
The tool I use to tell my stories is the internet, a digital astral realm, were no creature is judged on anything but the strength of their ideas and concepts. A place we you cannot be hated for being, and are judged purely on your actions. I have found others like me, and together we tell our stories with games. Happy stories, sad story, rabble rousing stories, depressing negative utopias being overthrown, dragons being killed to save the virgin princess from his jaws. Every story is an expression of our reality, for as a wise man of our time has noted “Art imitates life and life imitates art”. This is my life, imitating art.
I am but a human. A human who tells stories, so that his brothers can see that they are only humans. Rich humans, poor humans, but humans none the less. An animal who walks upright and preaches to love your brother, unless he is different. An animal who teaches that all men are created equal, but those who bear children must stay home to raise them. An animal who is.
Am I black, white, asian, young, racist, a hippy, a pagan, a christian, a hacker, a police officer, japanese, a politician, a rebel, a rocker, a brain, a raper, a freeman, a slave, preppy, irish, from the wrong side of the tracks, scottish, english, african, korean, veitnemise, mexican, colombian, happy, a millionaire, chinese, islamic, misunderstood, an inventor, a beggar, aferkaner, a warrior, a peasant, pure of heart, foul of intention, hindu, a confucianest, a leagelist, a gamer, a jock, a nice guy, the boy next door, a pretty girl, old, fed with a silver spoon, a star, a slut, superman?
Or am I just a player who is all of those roles, and who is judged because of it?
Or am I just a human?