I have always been very into hero figures. As a kid my GI Joes would sit at the windows of my sister’s Barbie house; M-16 at the ready waiting for Destro to come steal the fine china. I loved the Ninja Turtles before I was even allowed to watch them because I knew that they made fighting evil look bodacious. I told my brother bed time stories I made up while we were laying in our bunk bed about how Dr. Robotnik stole all the color from Mobius and Sonic the Hedgehog risked his life breaking into the color vacuum so the citizens of Mobius could return to their normal lives.
Heroism seems to be getting plastered over every form of entertainment medium there is, and with greater intensity all the time. There is the afflicted hero who battles his inner demons like Batman or Boromir. There is the perfect hero who is a role model in every way like Superman or Obi-Wan Kenobi. They can be magical or ordinary, humble or charismatic, and represent just about any cross-section of society that you want. You can watch them, read about them, play as one of them, or create your own.
I have always wanted to be a hero. Actually, that is an understatement. I have always felt in every subconscious fantasy, in most dreams, and in every vision of my future that I was meant to live or die as a hero of some kind. I find myself wishing for the opportunity to put myself at risk so others can be spared some kind of unwarranted evil. I find myself sink into depression during the times in my life where I don’t feel that I am on track to someday realize my dream of heroism, and that has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the course of the past several years.
I think part of the problem is that I know how close and clear that path is for me. I have slept in orphanages in India and Nicaragua who rescue unwanted and exploited kids. I have friends and organizations I keep in contact with all over the world who engage regularly in undercover rescue operations covertly infiltrating prostitution rings and rescuing children trapped as slaves by evil men. Real evil. Real heroism. Nothing could be so close and feel so incredibly far away from reality for me.
This creates the root of my frustration, which sets the stage for my means of getting into trouble. I’m pretty sure this is common to more people than just me in that when I experience frustration and have no relief for it, I will often seek out a way to distract myself from the emotional pain. Fortunately for me, the society I live in is ecstatic to oblige. For me to be a real hero, it would take years of dedication, the right circumstances coming about, careful financial planning, and a lot of other circumstances coming together over a long period of time. The alternative is to experience heroism vicariously through movie heroes and comic book superheroes and to have an entire online fantasy world where I can intricately customize my own hero to go out and save the world(s). It’s me moving the character and talking for the character and controlling every action, but instead of years of hard work and painful lessons learned, I just hop on and train my digital character. Yes it takes hours (days and days in fact) to work at being good at my role as a digital hero, but that is not the same as months and years of training your real body with little to no results, or training your brain to do something that isn’t easy or natural.
In the World of Warcraft I am a tank. In every game I play I naturally fall into that role, but in WoW it is very defined. The role of a tank is to be the first one into battle and to draw and keep the attention of all enemies while your comrades attack them. You take an incredible amount of damage, you die the most, you have to pay the most for armor repair, you are responsible for nearly every mistake that can wipe your group out, and you have to know the most and execute the best. It is a job that for the most part you don’t get recognized for being good at it, mostly just yelled at for making mistakes. I can’t be happy any other way.
Now, sit me down in front of WoW to quest by myself and I very quickly lose interest, but give me a group to watch over and fight for, and I’m hooked. I’ve spent weeks researching on multiple forums and websites the mathematical program equations for holding aggro and mitigating damage, and keeping up to date on the frequent changes to my character abilities that will affect how I tank. I have spent a total of 71 days, 10 hours, 23 minutes, and 29 seconds on my main character (that’s in actual played time) and an additional 21 days on my other characters in my fantasy combat environment.
I guess in a way this distraction is more like a lie. With lies, the best and most dangerous ones are the ones with the most truth mixed in. With gaming, I can “practice” being a hero. I can sprint over and head off an enemy trying to attack my healer. I can single-handedly run to almost any area in the game and wipe out all enemies, saving whoever I choose to. I can choose to assist the helpless and champion noble causes and resist “evil”. Sometimes I will do that for no other reason than I get to save some low-level civilian non-player characters (NPCs). With gaming I can run with a group of my friends, and do everything I can to keep them safe through the most difficult parts of the game. I can be confident and knowledgeable, and be one of the best tanks there is when I really try at it. It’s the ultimate distraction (lie) because A) I’m doing heroic things (kind of) B) I’m “rescuing” my real-life friends C) I’m marching fearlessly and selflessly into “combat” like I would love to be able to do in real life.
I want, no I yearn and I long to be a hero and spend my life like a rocket expends its fuel charging towards the absolute best thing I can be. There are so many things in the way though, and it is so long and exhausting reaching for the best. I have succumbed to the imitation. It’s so much easier to be numb and distracted. Most people are. If you can have an imitation and then go out and live a tame life, you don’t make enemies and you can avoid a good portion of pain and struggle.
Conviction lets you know that you’re spiritually alive like having your nerves exposed to the open air and tasting your own blood reminds you that you’re physically alive. Having it thrown in your face that you’re not what you should be is a good sign that you’re also not as bad as you could be. It’s when you stop struggling that you can be sure that you’re not who you could be.
I could die in a car accident driving to the grocery store. I could die of carbon monoxide poisoning or a brain tumor in my sleep even if I never leave the comfort and safety of the house. How is it a greater risk to spend my life standing up to the real evil that exists everywhere as someone who is prepared and equipped when people die as victims and passengers and bystanders every day?
God give me real pain and real tears and real struggle so in the end I can obtain a real prize.
Prae Asperum Victoria
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