Friday, May 31, 2013

Dragon Age

(This is going to be long and rambly.  I started playing Dragon Age: Origins, because Fable 2 was boring the hell out of me.  I'm still at the way beginning, and I have thoughts.  There may be spoilers, but not many, since I haven't gotten very far.)

According to the manual, Dragon Age: Origins is set in an "egalitarian" society, where men and women are equal and take equal part in all occupations.

Yeah, that's fail.

The game is not ALL fail.  I mean, for starters, it's really well written and lots of fun to play.  And even my social-justice-brain is happy with a lot of the things Bioware is doing with it.  I appreciate that there are non-heterosexual romance options, especially that there are gay male romance options, since so many games only have options taken out of straight male porn.

Bioware has done this before, as well.  I was recently reminded that they made Jade Empire, which also had gay male romance options.  Granted, as if to smooth any ruffled feathers that might cause, not only are there two female romance options for the male character, he also has the option of sexing both of them at once.  (I find this both eyeroll-inducing, and totally hot, btw.)  I actually played the game at least twice as a male character, so I could access the different options.  I almost never play male characters if I have a choice.  I don't think I ever played Mass Effect as a male Shepard, even though I have a big crush on Ashley.

There's a really great post about romance and gaming that you should read.  Here's an excerpt:
But because Bioware's romances are just the B-plot, the emotional dynamic winds up feeling deeper and truer than any shallow dating sim can. You're not just hanging out with the object of your affection on dates or at parties. You're risking your lives together in fighting for a common purpose. You're sharing horrors and triumphs. You're bonding through shared experience, the way human beings are wont to do.

Thus the quality of romantic drama on offer by Bioware winds up feeling richer, more complex, and truer than games that are supposed to be about love through and through. The relationships have more complexity and texture to them because the characters are all bigger than the love story. They have a place in the world that doesn't revolve around how much you want to date them.
The first time we made camp, in Dragon Age, I awoke from a vivid and frightening dream and saw Alistair sitting awake, nearby.  He had seen me thrashing and wanted to be there when I woke up.  The dreams are part of being a gray warden, he told me, and they scared him, too.  It was a kind and thoughtful gesture, and it meant something to me.  I've only been playing for a week or so, and I'm already half in love with a character in the game. 

I feel admired and respected by Alistair.  The admiration and respect come first.  And I think that there's something very feminist about modeling relationships like that.  About feeling respected as a person, for the actions I take.  Relationships in these games exist because I make it so.  The romances are optional B-plots, after all, and if I don't pursue them, they don't happen.  I like that.

There was also a great moment when I asked another character to tell me about his people.  He said, "no."  When I asked him why, he said that cultures were too large, diverse, and complex to summarize with a few words like "elves are agile, pointy-eared, and oppressed."  BOOM.  I sqeeeed. 

And now, on to the fail:

Dragon Age is not set in an egalitarian society.  It's just NOT.  I've just barely hit the sandbox and the only evidence I've seen so far is the manual.  I can't count how many characters have reacted to my gender.  People say, "Oh, I wasn't expecting a woman."  Or "as a woman, what are your thoughts on this totally non-gender-related topic?"  And I'm a mage, which isn't even a male-coded class. If women were actually taking equal part of all occupations, then there would be no surprise.  I mean, if I walk into a kindergarten class and say, "oh, some of you are girls!" I'd look like an idiot. 

That was annoying, but I wasn't pissed off until I asked for a story from my bard, here's what she told me:

Once upon a time a couple abandoned their daughter to the woods because they had wanted a boy instead.  The daughter was raised by people in the woods.  She was beautiful, graceful, really good at fighting, etc.  Her adopted family sent her out of the woods to compete, disguised as a man, in a tourney against the people who had scorned her.  When she beats everyone, she is discovered and summarily killed.  Her death showed the king just how bad it was for women, so he went out and fixed sexism and now women can be knights, all thanks to the dead girl.

There are so many things wrong with this I don't even know where to start.  How about that the main character of the story has absolutely no agency whatsoever, and then she's killed so that her death can enlighten some dude?  And then the dude fixes sexism.  Because what women really need is a hero.  [cue Tina Turner]

And the fact that all the sexism in the story's background, the strict gender roles, don't need to be explained, says a lot about the people telling and listening to the story.  It's not weird to anyone that parents would prefer to have a son, or that (as in another story), brides are chosen by their husbands. 

There are issues with creating overtly sexist fantasy worlds, but I find this even more upsetting.  Because it's just as fucking sexist as all those other worlds, except it's holding itself up as some kind of cultural achievement.

Dear Bioware: you can do better.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Comfortable

I don't miss dancing.  I used to, but I can't feel it right now, I haven't for a while now, and I feel terrible about it.  I don't just mean that I miss the feeling of wanting to dance.  I actually feel like a bad person.

I liked that I liked dancing.  I liked what it said about me.  I liked being a person who liked dancing.  I especially liked that it contradicted the usual "fat and lazy" archetype, but I also liked all the other character traits that are associated with dance. 

I was okay with being unable to dance.  I mean, it was frustrating as hell and kind of frightening, but at least I was prevented by something out of my control, something I could blame.  I was still, at heart, a dancer, and could claim all the same character traits as someone who was actually dancing.

This is different.  I see photos on Facebook of activities I'm missing, and I'm not jealous.  I'm sitting at my desk, and I'm not anxiously waiting for when I can go and pedal a stationary bike to nowhere.  I used to have something inside that needed letting out, but it ran away and never came back. 

I know that I'm tired.  Really, seriously, emotionally, tired.  I had a long two weeks with stressful events, and my comfort zone : non comfort zone ratio has been really damn low.  I know.  But it feels like I'm forgetting anything else.  It feels as if I might wait too long and get too comfortable and just keep sitting forever.

I saw a wellness coach yesterday.  She confirmed my belief that I need to go talk to sports medicine.  I have an evaluation appointment next Thursday.  I am doing the right things but I feel like I'm running out of time.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Dumb

Looking back at my last paragraph I mostly feel kind of dumb.  I already know that, while I can go to parties by myself, and I can handle myself socially when I don't know anyone around me, and I can perform some sort of gregarious version of myself and project charm and interest and enjoy myself, there are limits to both my enjoyment and my capacity to maintain that state.  Even if I had all the spoons, this is not what makes me happy.  So why go to a con?  I mean, if all I want is to listen to interesting ideas, I can read this stuff.  The point of having a con is spending a weekend with like-minded people who also care about these things. 

At the time, I was so careful managing my mental reserves, thinking that if I could just try harder, I would enjoy myself.  I never really examined the basic assumptions behind that.  But now, when I am processing and reflecting, it seems so obviously wrong.  I feel so stupid.  If I know that the point is spending time with the people there, and I know that the people will be strangers, and I know that I have a very limited capacity for spending time with strangers, then why did I expect any other result? 

The weekend was not terrible, nor was it fruitless.  I heard some interesting ideas, and have a long list of reading suggestions.  I have had some important revelations about myself and the identities I am afraid to claim.  I do want to talk about those.  It's just that I hadn't realized that I'd wanted more than that this weekend, and I wasn't prepared for the way it felt to not have it.

Monday, May 27, 2013

WisCon (edited a few hours later)

Did I mention, I went to WisCon this year?  We left Friday morning, and got back a couple hours ago.  It's my first time, so I was asked often about my experience.  Was I having fun?  I still don't know how to answer that.  The question doesn't really make sense to me.  I succeeded.  I had appropriate social interactions with strangers.  I attended things.  I asked questions that were mostly not stupid.  I took notes.  I made it through and then got us home again.  I successfully evaluated my abilities, removed myself from situations I couldn't handle, and took appropriate measures to take care of myself.  But conversations with strangers, no matter how well handled, are a kind of performance.  I had a task to do, and I could be pleased at doing it well, but without context, without any familiarity, without the expectation that we would ever have a conversation again, there was no connection.  People rotated in and then out again.  Any ground I might have gained at dinner, in advancing a friendly relationship, was lost when dinner was over and everyone regrouped.  It was a profoundly lonely experience.

And the conversations were few.  There was one dinner organized for newcomers to meet and socialize, but other than that, the opportunities were up to me to create.  There were parties every night, all of them with a theme.  Here is a party for queer people who like Dr. Who.  Here is a party for people who want to meet representatives of a magazine.  And, of course, no one would kick me out if I attended a party about an upcoming issue release, even though I haven't heard of it, nor am I interested, but there's a big difference between "not kicked out," and "invited."  And if I found a party I had some connection to, I would still be spending the evening approaching strangers, attempting conversation, and then regrouping and doing it again.  I had enough energy to try the first night.  After that, I mostly stayed in my room after programming was over.

When people asked me if I was having fun, it meant that I should be having fun.  It meant that there was fun to be had, fun I was missing.  I didn't understand.  What was I supposed to be doing that I wasn't?  What was I missing?  

I'm being a little glib.  I do understand that many people come to WisCon and find themselves surrounded, not by strangers, but dear and familiar faces.  That they have a place to meet up in person with people who are otherwise only around virtually.  I also know that some people can forge meaningful connections while waiting for a slow elevator.  Some people find meeting new people, even if only for a night, maybe especially only for a night, freeing and thrilling and lots of fun.  Some people don't need or want those connections.  I also know that the con is designed for a fandom that I do not entirely inhabit.  And so even a newcomer, alone, might find themselves at home in the Queer People Love Time Lords parties and viewing parties and panels.  It's not that there wasn't any fun to be had.  I just didn't have the tools to have it.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

147

I wasn't going to message him because, open marriage.  I'm not really sure I'm a good fit for polyamory.  But he said that he was disappointed that no one had attempted bacon sushi yet, and I HAD to tell him about the BLT roll.

And then I just started talking... and so.


144, 145, ETA: 146



On second thought, I probably should have shortened the dead-people-bit.