To Whack is Divine

We discussed video games at length but he never quite understood them.

“So you just start typing things and eventually it becomes a game? I see you have a computer.” he remarked.

“You can see me?… No… there’s game designers, level designers, writers, modelers, animators, narrative designers, marketers, publishers, graphic designers… uh… testers…”.

“So how do we get started?” he asked.

“We don’t!  It takes millions of dollars and dozens of people to make a video game.  You should have haunted Tim Schafer instead.”

A few months pass this time and I am enjoying a cigar and listening to music on the porch and he says “Let’s get started.”

My heart starts racing, perhaps I’m crazy?  Maybe this is it, maybe it’s tea and thorazine for me for the rest of my life at a halfway house.  “Why are you doing this to me?” I plead to nobody.

“I told you, we have a story to tell.  Now let’s get started.”, he said patiently.

“Why me?  Who are you?  I didn’t ASK for a voice in my head!”

“Nevertheless, you’ve got one so make the best of it.  You’re good with computers right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you.  Tell me about video games.”

I didn’t hear from him for months.  In all honesty I’d nearly forgotten about him.  I thought he was something conjured up from exhaustion or having too many worries.  Perhaps I  inhaled one too many car fume on the or upset my stomach with a blot of mustard.

Nevertheless one quiet night I heard, “We should probably get started.”

“Who are you?”, I asked.

This was met with only silence.

“Do you have a name then?”.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

Again, silence.

“What can I call you then?”

“Muse, Genius or Daemon are traditional.”

“How do we get started?” I asked, but once again, silence.

It may have been as long as six years ago I first heard the voice of my Daemon…  I was living in Redlands, CA and was unemployed (which was fashionable in that era).

I was driving as I recall, and I heard a quiet voice say “I have a story to tell but I need your help… I’ll show you.”  Before I could say–or even think anything my skull opened and my mind spilled out of and diffused into the universe, I was everywhere and nowhere.   He showed me his story from beginning to end in that instant.   It was beautiful and I was at peace with the universe’s secrets.  Moments later I returned to what had never before seemed–but nevertheless was–my pedestrian life and limited intellect.  The memory of what I had seen was distant.  I wanted to capture everything I could, but I had nothing to write with.

“That’s alright he said… We’ll work on it together.”