
An Account of My 11.5 Year Journey Addressed to a Younger Me

Dear Me,

I’m writing you from the future, surrounded by annuals and ferns we purchased from a local greenhouse, settled on a glowing patio under a Midwest sun. There are picture-perfect blue skies in all directions, and I (you) am sipping an underwhelming, yet perfect cup of dark coffee.

Your first question, naturally, is how did we get to The Midwest? Likewise with anyone who finds their way here, I’m not sure. It just sort of happened.

Now that we’ve gotten the exposition out of the way, how are you? Things are okay over here. Times are wild, but I won’t waste your time with details. We have other important things to discuss. You’re about to go vegan, no? …A little conflicted, if I remember correctly? Yes, I know. It shouldn’t seem like a big step from vegetarian — a few extra animal products to cut out. You’ve seen the documentaries, and your best friend, who is also going vegan, has of course done all the research (thank god for our best friend). When you set your mind to it, you accomplish what you want.

So, what’s got you nervous?

Well, that’s what I’m writing you about. It’s been a journey, and while there plenty of articles you’ll undoubtedly read (or have already read) about the health merits of a plant-based diet, the environmental and ethical reasons to go vegan, blah, blah, blah… there’s a lack of people waxing poetic about what that journey is like. And I mean what it’s _really_ like — not the “I feel amazing and save so many animals a year! Veganism changed my life!” perspectives. And also not the grimy scientific articles comparing every facet of the vegan lifestyle. Those are fine, and we offer nothing but congratulations and thanks to those. But that’s a shallow representation of what our journey looks like.

Luckily, you have future me (you) to bridge the gap.

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### The Very Beginning

By now you’ve been vegetarian for a while. What a wonderful decision that was, filled with growing pains and awkward family dinners and what have you. I wish I could say that parts get better immediately, but it’ll take some time. Going vegan will be a lot like going vegetarian, except not.

I won’t lie. You’re going to get the shit kicked out of you for the first bit.

What? You’re in high school. Do you have any idea how big a stereotype it’s going to be to be _the_ vegan kid in your school? Let alone the fact that you used to play Yu-Gi-Oh at lunch until that kid stole your deck. Is that still a sore subject? Sorry, but if it’s any consolation it’ll be for the better in the long run.

Anyway, it’s going to be rough. Bullying aside, the start is the hardest. People will tell you it’s a phase. There are some more-or-less immediate physical changes. You’ll feel a withdraw from dairy products. Lucky for you, you never got into ketchup and cheese sandwiches like your siblings, but you will still feel the withdrawal symptoms. In case you aren’t already aware, cow’s milk is physically addicting to humans due to the casein, which is a protein in mammalian milk with addicting properties so that babies develop the habit of breastfeeding.

In other words, it makes you want the tit.

That’s all fine and dandy, except for the fact that, as you can imagine, cow’s breast milk is meant for calves (baby cows), which are larger than baby humans. As such, the casein in cow’s milk is many times more potent than what you find in your mom’s milk.

Many have written about this, notably after so much attention was given to dairy fallout precipitating The China Study. For example, Victoria Moran writes her book _Main Street Vegan:_

> “Casein, one of the proteins in milk, crosses the blood-brain barrier and becomes something called casomorphins. Yes’m, that sounds a lot like morphine — because casomorphin is also an opiod. Nature designed it that way so young mammals would enjoy nursing, come back for more, and live to reproduce themselves.” “Human milk has only 2.7 grams of casein per liter. Cow’s milk has 26. And because it takes, on average, ten pounds of milk to make one pound of cheese or ice cream, you’re looking at a lot of casein and resultant casomorphin.”

And bada-bing bada-boom you’ve got yourself a low-key opiate addiction. There are other reasons why you’ll have withdrawal — taste, trying to figure out what to eat — but that’s the reason for the physical symptoms.

The good news is that after that, you’re going to feel better than you ever have before. I’m not exaggerating, and neither are all of the articles I was mocking a minute ago. There’s no real way to describe it, but know that it’s true. Some people will tell you it’s euphoria from all that goodness you’re doing in the world. Yeah, sure. Believe that if you want. It definitely helps, but there’s more to it than that. Others will tell you it’s your body responding to diet changes, whether that’s eating healthier foods or cleansing your body of years of processed meats, dairy that you can’t digest, or what have you. I think it’s probably a combination.

It will continue to feel good, too. Others might tell you that it fades, feeling super good all at once and then mellowing out later. While that’s true, there’s more to it than that. It’s like falling in love (which I will not be reporting to you on in this letter — you’ll figure that one out in your own time). There are peaks and plateaus, but no matter what your life will be changed for the better.

#### The first order of business is going to be talking to your parents.

We’re fortunate to have open-minded parents. Not everyone has this privilege, so don’t take it for granted. Mom already makes the best vegetarian dishes you could ask for on a tight budget, and in time she’ll get better at making vegan ones too. I’m happy to say she’s something of an expert these days, so be nice as she’s getting used to the changes. Dad never really understands or cares, but he’ll support it like he does. Eventually he even starts to like veggie burgers in their own way.

Now, here’s the cliche kicker: it’s not going to be easy. Mom will buy you ingredients, and even cook for you sometimes, like I said. But you’re going to figure out how to cook for yourself. I don’t even mean just the technical parts of cooking, certainly not the artsy parts of cooking that come later on. You’re going to have to figure out _how_ to eat as a vegan. For starters, what is actually vegan? Well, at a glance it’s what doesn’t have animal products directly in it, i.e. plant-based.

It’s going to look like spending the time at the grocery to check every single label. You’ll learn what to look for on labels. There are so many “gotchas” of the industry trying to sneak animal products into foods, from dyes to sweeteners, to even vitamin supplements. It’s frustrating, and at first it’s going to be awful. Right around 2015, it improves as health foods get more trendy. For whatever reason, it’s now “the thing” to make it look like there’s only 3 ingredients in your food. Don’t get me wrong. This is a good thing. It’s just annoying that it’s being marketed as some kind of novel new technology in health. You’re telling me eating a dozen things I can’t pronounce isn’t always good? Groundbreaking. (Disclaimer: lots of ingredients we can’t pronounce are fine, but you get my point.)

In time, you’ll be able to speed read an ingredients label with 50 items and know in an instant whether or not it’s plant-based. It’s helpful that most ingredients labels have to include dietary restrictions, so with many things you can skip straight to the bottom and look for those. Use that as a cursory glance, though, not a fail-safe. As I mentioned above, many ingredients are derived from animal sources that aren’t considered dietary restrictions.

Once you’ve got identifying plant-based food down, you can move on to the fun part: cooking plant-based food.

There’s no elegant way to put it. It takes time and effort, and both demand patience. You’re going to learn how to feed yourself all over again. Sounds hard, I know. But that brings me to a question which many people (adults that I consider extraordinarily intelligent, even) have trouble answering:

_How do you feed yourself now?_

Most people I talk to haven’t spent much time at all thinking about what they eat and why. It’s a little better now, but back in your time it’s laughable. I think it goes beyond that, though. People don’t even think about what they _like_ to eat.

Nothing makes you critically analyze what you like and why like changing your diet from the ground up (get it? Because your food comes from the ground). Because they’ve never thought critically about food for more than 5 minutes, people are going to riddle you with feigned pity: “what do you eat, though?” The only thing worse, is when someone asks you about _protein. “But where do you get your protein in your diet of protein rich nuts, legumes, and starches?!”_ They’re concerned about your specific nutritional levels, bless their heart, despite the fact that they haven’t paid attention to their own since that time they counted macros for a month in college.

These, at first, seem like an innocent enough questions. The irony is going vegan is going to make you an expert on what you eat. You’re going to have a better understanding of food than you ever had or hoped to, and it’s because you’re going to have to figure out what you like and how to get it.

Outside of vegans and people who eat plant-based, I often hear people who’ve developed food allergies offer similar sentiment. Near universally, people I’ve met who’ve suffered through being selective with what they eat have had a better grasp on what they want.

This benefit of knowing your food and having a wholesome relationship with what you’re eating is an upside to this whole thing that I cannot stress enough. It will take you time, but it will be worth it.

### The First Year

There will be ups and downs. Ridicule. Discovery. Absurd questions. Easy questions. The same explanation of why. The rarer, deeper, intimate discussion of why. Threading the needle through uninspired philosophical arguments. Shoving the needle repeatedly into the eye of half-hearted nihilist arguments because “it’s all relative, bro.” The same stupid absurdist question about being on a deserted island where somehow the only food source is chickens. Learning. Mistakes. Community.

The first year will simultaneously be the easiest and the hardest.

Hard because it’s new, and easy because it’s new.

Truth be told, I cannot prepare you for that first year. To some extent, it’d be wrong for me to take that away from you, as so much it is about experience. It’s a unique time. You’re not jaded about the animal rights movement and its bottomless nuance. You’re still eager to get your hands on every recipe, watch every vegan YouTuber, fail to make seitan look like anything but a brain.

Shit. I can’t even begin to tell you about the first vegan _friend_ you’ll make (other than your best friend, who, THEY-God bless, is of course going vegan with you at the same time). There is nothing like your first vegan friend as a vegan.

This is probably a good time to clear up the difference between vegan and plant-based. I could send an entirely different letter on how it hurts the vegan movement that the difference between vegan and plant-based isn’t clear to the mainstream public. I’ll spare you those words for now, though. Suffice it to say, plant-based is a good thing overall. It makes me so happy to tell you that it’s trendy to eat a plant-based diet in 2020.

But eating a plant-based diet is _not_ what it means to be vegan. The entire community goes back and forth on this endlessly, and it’s an uphill, often trite, semantic battle with no clear resolution. The point is that there needs to be a distinction between only eating plants and living a vegan lifestyle.

You’ll learn in your own right, and the spark is already there, but veganism is more than what you eat. For you, me, and many others it’s inherently political. It spans over environmentalism, sexism, animal rights, racial and class injustice, and so much more.

As Aph and Syl Ko present in their radical book, _Aphro-ism: Essays on Pop Culture, Feminism, and Black Veganism from Two Sisters_, veganism is as much about what we want our future to look like as it is about changing the present. Veganism, especially black veganism, is the pen with which we write what our ideal world looks like when freed of the injustices in our present one. Aph and Syl help us engage with the taxonomies of power that gave rise to the vegan movement and extrapolate that onto what it _means_ to be vegan at an individual and community level.

> “Part of activism is finding yourself in a new space of confusion, allowing yourself to step into new conceptual terrain. When you abandon commonly held oppressive beliefs, you might not exactly know what to do afterward, and that’s where more activists need to be.”

> — Aph Ko, Aphro-ism

Your veganism will become a deep personal connection to yourself and your community (including and especially the non-human community) just as much as it will be to what shampoo you pick out that isn’t tested on animals.

So yeah, that first vegan friend is critical. They’re a breath of fresh air, someone you can vent to who is equally enthusiastic about the routine exploitation of animals. Someone who you can connect ideas to and fantasize about what the world looks like. I’d be remiss to mention that you’ll find all of this and more in your best friend, but the wonder of meeting others who share your views is powerful.

### After That

Routine.

After the first year or two it becomes second-nature. You stop seeing animals as food, and you know what to look for for the most part. Sure, every now and then you might make a mistake. That’s okay. As cool as it would be, you don’t lose your vegan card after three strikes like in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. (I won’t say whether or not the psychic powers and are made up, though.) People always ask if it’s hard, or marvel at your “commitment.” Sometimes particularly thoughtful people quip away with a charmless “Oh, I could never do that. Have you _had_ cheese?”

For the most part, you tuck these moments away in a folder of immutable interactions you’ve had, occasionally peeking back to wonder how you might have approached a conversation differently, changed someone’s mind, come to an understanding. You will fight your hardest to explain to the curious and the relentless your why and how. And you will revel in the fuzzy magic feeling when you can watch it click for someone else.

But there will be the odd occasion where your light is challenged. It will not be from a sudden craving, which seems to be the stereotype. No, it’ll come from having to deal with the nuance which I described previously, the nuance of veganism.

Being vegan is not a one-size fits all scenario. There are countless takes on what is and isn’t vegan, how to most effectively save lives, impact the environment, and so on. Most of the difficult arguments you’ll have aren’t with non-vegans, but rather other people who think their size is the one size.

People will try to gatekeep you from being vegan.

They’ll tell you if you aren’t doing one thing, then why even bother? They’ll analyze which actions are the most beneficial, and which ones are useless. They’ll make it about themselves, instead of the animals. They’ll argue about which plant-based cheese is superior, claiming that somehow something is better than Miyoko’s Sun-Dried Tomato Basil. They may even tell you they were once vegan until they realized they it was an impossible problem.

You’ll encounter every kind of doubt and “what if” you can imagine, but the hardest are going to be from people who have spent as much time thinking about veganism as you.

Before I said that veganism is personal and political. I made a distinction between it and plant-based and began to talk about the importance of that distinction.

Well, Me, as important as that distinction is, there’s as big a lesson to be learned from empathizing with human animals who are trying to figure out what veganism means to them. Don’t misunderstand. You’ll find value galore in picking at the nuance of the impact of one brand of veganism vs. another. At dissecting the system and how it operates with others who will have different perspectives than you. There’s value in arguing with people who agree with you as much as those who disagree with you.

But keep your wits about you and your head up. It’s all part of the journey, and I’m happy to report that, in time, it shapes your own veganism, which funny enough leads to shaping your own you.

### The Happily Ever After

Your vegan journey over the next 11.5 years will define you.

You will develop opinions, fight against cruelty and apathy, become a chef in your own right, and open up into a kind of person you can be proud of.

I am proud of you, after all.

You will make friends, write recipes, read books, protest, clean up goat shit, organize events, pretend to be lactose intolerant when you can’t afford another stressful conversation, fall in and out of love with communities, and cry at a lot of vegan potlucks.

Perhaps the most astonishing thing, looking back, is the sheer amount of information you’ll accumulate. As you begin to look more and more into the kind of person you want to be, you’ll become an amateur expert on nutrition and food science, philosophy, and public speaking. You’ll find inspiration in an athleticism you didn’t know you had, athleticism that’s predicated on your diet and unending thirst for optimum.

This and so much more stems from that seemingly small decision to be conscious of what you’re eating.

I can’t give you all of the specifics and ruin the story, but I can promise it’s a worthwhile one.

### The Things You Won’t Find in Books

1.  No one cares that you’re vegan, except other vegans. And they care a lot.
2.  It’s probably vegan or can be made vegan. Use your imagination.
3.  If it can’t be made vegan, someone is trying to make it vegan. Figure out how to make it before them. Invest the proceeds in something else you wish was vegan.
4.  Item (3) above applies to more than material things. It also applies more generally.
5.  Be hypercritical of power structures within vegan organizations. If they aren’t helping animals, who are they helping?
6.  Food really is the fastest way to people’s hearts. Cooking is an act of love.
7.  Sometimes it’s right to be wrong, especially when you’re trying to convince someone you’re right.
8.  Violence in any form is not vegan.
9.  Praise people for doing their best.
10.  Raise up the good, wholesome experiences. Write about the farm sanctuaries of the world. Post about the cutting edge recipes. Tell your friends you love them. **Veganism in the media shouldn’t be all death and action.**
11.  There’s always too many tryhard desserts at vegan potlucks. Be that person who makes a hearty dish or some basic pasta. People will remember.

Books mentioned:  
[https://mainstreetvegan.net/](https://mainstreetvegan.net/)  
[https://aphro-ism.com/](https://aphro-ism.com/)

A Letter To My Past Vegan Self


“Listen to my story…”

A lot of games made waves for me growing up, but none of them hit like Final Fantasy X. Let me preface by saying there are a handful of Final Fantasy (FF) games that made an impact on me growing up. In addition to teaching me roman numerals, they all occupy a warm place in my heart.

There are pros and cons to each game, as with any series of games. Final Fantasy X is no exception. Originally a Playstation 2 game and the first of the series to debut on the 2nd-Gen system, FFX was a new beast in the world of Final Fantasy. We could spend hours dissecting gameplay, graphics, and the phenomenal soundtrack, but this isn’t that kind of review.

This is a review of the memory of FFX, a review of how it makes me _feel_, all these years later.

Buckle up.

_(Obviously major Spoilers ahead. It’s been out for almost 20 years, so play it.)_

There’s a timeless debate rehashed every so often: “what’s _the best_ Final Fantasy (FF) game?” It’s something of a pissing contest for fans where they show off their encyclopedic knowledge of the games and employ high-level, elaborate arguments as to why one game is the best. If you’re fortunate to have never been in or a bystander to one, let me paint the scene for you:

You’re at a low-key event that you have to be at: your friend’s college party that never quite took off, work potluck, birthday for your least favorite nephew, etc.   
You have no real desire to be there and consider leaving.   
It’s too early, though.

You try to come up with reasons to stay.  
Maybe you’ll talk to your crush.   
Unlikely.  
You decide to grab a refreshment.

While grabbing said refreshment, you overhear Jim and Bob arguing.  
Each of them holds a near empty beer.   
You position yourself at the edge of the conversation.  
You feel in your bones this is a mistake but have already committed.

_“There’s just no replay-ability! I can hop on Seven and still have fun today. I can hardly say the same for Six. Be honest — when was the last time you played Six?”_

_“Not that you need to replay a masterpiece to appreciate it, but I’m actually working toward the world record any% speedrun. It has substance. Seven is just another edgy teenager fighting against dystopian capitalism. Oooh, inner turmoil and a love triangle! It’s overdone and unoriginal. Weeb Hunger Games.”_

You make the mistake of chiming in: “_Are you all talking about Final Fantasy? I love those games.”_

_They shoot you a look somewhere between friendly and pompous._

_“Yeah, we were discussing our favorites. Do you have a favorite?”_

It’s an innocent enough question. You know better.   
You sip your beer, swirl the bottle, and shrug.

_“I guess I’d have to say Ten.”_

There’s a moment of acknowledgement. They look at each other and nod, then both finish their beer.

_“Yeah, true. Ten is pretty good.”_

The mood lightens. They forget about Seven and Six, and you all reminisce about Ten until it’s clear the event is over. Your crush left without you noticing, but you leave at the end of the night feeling warm.

This is the power of FFX.

In all of the heated debates over the best FF, everyone agrees that FFX is something else. It doesn’t need to be the best. People simply love it. It’s the Hey! Arnold of Final Fantasy. The Mac ’n’ Cheese of JRPGs.

In a sea of games centered around overpowered main characters on a one-dimensional quest to save/change the world, FFX managed to do it different.

On the surface, it follows the same formula that failed many awkward JRPGs.

Tidus, the main character, is an annoying and brash anime heartthrob who is deus-ex machina’d into importance. He is an unremarkable and otherwise uninteresting Blitzball star with daddy issues. It’s hard to blame him, though, since his dad _did_ leave to become the vessel for a God that would come back to destroy the world every 1000 years. That would mess me up, too.

Plus, what is going on with these pants? I still blame Tidus for putting zip-off pants out of style.

He does develop as the game goes on, but that’s not what’s memorable here.

Moreover, the story isn’t a huge departure from the common narrative either. There’s a grand apocalyptic event on the horizon, the return of Sin, AKA Jecht, AKA my boy Tidus’ dad. Tidus accompanies Yuna and friends on the ultimate quest to stop sin. There’s mystery and adventure galore as you’d expect in any other high budget RPG.

Where FFX hits different, as well as what makes it so memorable, is that the story and the flat main character are all foil to the true narrative of the game: a star-crossed love story across a dreamlike world. The real game sneaks up on you in little moments that ease you into it. You needed it even though you didn’t know you wanted it, like a good nap on a rainy day.

This is what tugs on the nostalgia strings. I look back on FFX and remember these brilliant, subtle moments that build this love story.

I remember running across the beach of Besaid, listening to the calming marimba and piano melody of the soundtrack, and meeting Wakka at the beginning of the game, already overcome by wanderlust for this bizarre world. Even now I throw on that song and feel at peace with the world.

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I remember the chill of the Hymn of Faith, entering the Aeon trials, followed by the frustration of forcing my way through the contrived puzzles.

I remember Tidus’ terrible laugh, which would go on to become a meme and somehow not be the death of this game.

I remember dying repeatedly to Mecha Seymour Guapo atop Mt. Gagazet, only to realize, foolishly, that he was undead and thus susceptible to healing/potions for free damage.

I remember finding the hidden Aeons and thinking it was so cool that Yuna, who I thought was going to be a healbot, was by far my strongest character.

I remember thinking Auron was the single coolest character I’d ever seen, and watching the relationship evolve between Tidus and him felt organic.

I remember Zanarkand.

Finally, I remember Tidus and Yuna falling for each other against the odds. And of course the shock at the end when we find out that the unlikable protagonist we’ve impossibly come to root for must be separated from Yuna to complete their task, followed by the intangible loss when it actually happens. Looking back on it, this might be the first real loss I ever resonated with in a game. I think it’s partially because up until then, when the stakes got bad I always assumed the main character would somehow come out on top. I knew in the back of my head things would be okay.

But that’s not what happens in FFX.

We’re left to marvel at their tragedy, knowing it’s the way the story had to end. It ties up everything into one huge nostalgia bomb, but it feels right. The game couldn’t have ever succeeded if it was a happily ever after. Everything about it led up to that ending, and it’s what landed it a place in the hearts of so many fans for years to come.

I still replay this game every year or two. The remaster does it justice, and I can only hope that the remake of Final Fantasy 7 lives up to the same level of hype, though that’s an entirely different can of worms.

Thank you, Square, for this remarkable gift.

Nostalgia Review: Final Fantasy X


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**Right about every gym across the USA parades a horde of inspirational messages through their dusty halls. Many of them are corny, recycled versions of the same idea: “Never Give Up.”** It’s a simple message that resonates through the walls of the concrete jungle, harvesting momentum from every grunted out PR rep, unrelenting in its judgment of gym denizens. All of this comes for good reason, as consistency is the foundation for results when it comes to gym goals, be it strength, endurance, weight loss, or what have you. It’s no secret that trainers and fitness guides stress consistency as the most significant factor in achieving one’s goals. This is due to the fact that we’re creatures of habit. If you can get into the habit of doing something, your body adapts to excel at that. Fitness is no different. So, it should come as no surprise that “Never Give Up” is the paraphrased slogan of gyms, sports, and fitness communities everywhere.

Ironically, the problem with the “Never Give Up” ideology is that it set me up for failure.

I started my fitness journey 5 years ago as an 110-pound vegan coming out of a grueling final semester at Oberlin College. The summer following my graduation, I fixed laptops and printers 9–5 at the campus IT department, where I’d worked part-time since my freshman year. That summer was meant to be a time for reflection, an invaluable break between the rigor of college and the grit of the “real” world. Since school was over and, like many in my position, I didn’t know what I was doing next, I had a lot of free time. Too much of that free time was more or less wasted playing Dota 2 with one of my best friends. However, thankfully, one of my coworkers convinced me to spend at least one hour after work every day hitting the gym before locking myself away to video games.

Truth be told, I’d only set foot in the gym a handful of times throughout my college career, and at least 75% of those times were to fix the printer. I was as scrawny as they came, and had been ridiculed for being an underweight vegan my entire adult life. This was especially infuriating, as I struggled to explain to people that my weak stature had nothing to do with my diet, which was true, to an extent. While I could’ve eaten better, I had been weak and skinny my entire life, certainly long before I was vegan.

So, that summer I determined to change all that. I set out to show people that I could be strong and gain muscle, and I’d do it all on a vegan diet. I laid a workout plan for my metamorphosis, and with the help of my coworker, who had years of strength training experience, I pushed myself to see results.

I succeeded.

By the end of the summer, I had put on 10 pounds, evened out my frame, and felt strong for the first time in my life. More importantly, I developed the technical knowledge and confidence to continue exercising outside of the infamous Oberlin Bubble, which is notorious for being nothing like the “real” world. I was still a long shot from where I am today, but it sparked my fitness journey.

Fast-forward one year.

I can’t afford to rent my apartment in Madison, WI because I have neither job nor savings. I move back home to help my separated parents fix up the house I grew up in. I have no long term plan, and perhaps fueling all of it, I haven’t worked out in months.

What happened?

Well, after leaving college I found a gym membership at an overpriced gym downtown. I won’t name it, but it was one of those trendy gyms with vague fitness buzzwords all over the walls (_Agility, Speed, Endurance, Winning)._ A real damn fool, I started my gym membership before I even got a job (do not recommend). I did eventually find a job.

Things were going well, until I got sick with a stomach flu and missed a few workouts. Those were the first I’d missed since starting in college, and I remember beating myself up for them. Would I lose all my gains? Would my body be confused by the few missed days? Was I going to have too big of shoulders and tiny legs because my routine was off? What if my abysmal bench press suffered?

It ended up being no big deal. I got back to my plan, followed the motto, re-energized myself. “Never Give Up.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t last. Between dissatisfaction with my job and a rough breakup, I started to collapse, bit by bit. At first, I poured my frustration into my workouts, expecting catharsis. Instead, I found it made the gym feel like an enemy. I quit my job in an attempt to reinvent myself, but this made things worse. In early 2016, I fell out of my rhythm and turned to video games as a crutch. Things got worse and worse, until finally I ran out of money and was forced to go home.

By that time, I didn’t look at my workouts the same way. They felt foreign to me, and I was ashamed that I’d squandered my progress. Though I had only lost a little strength, I felt demoralized. I kept up a facade to my friends that I was stronger than ever and still working out because the thought of losing my confidence terrified me. In reality, the thought of working out made me want to vomit. I did the only thing all of the training guides and articles said not to. I gave up.

At this point, thank god I went home. **If you take away nothing else from reading this, let it be to not underestimate the healing power of returning home.** There’s no shame in it, either. That said, it was far from ideal — my separated parents had to work together with my younger siblings and me to fix up the house. It was a recipe for constant tension and regular shouting matches, but underneath all of that I had a chance to return to my South Virginian roots. I spent the mornings walking around the neighborhood I grew up in, nights reminiscing with old friends and my siblings, and all the time in between doing manual labor. I was content in the simplicity of it all, and the goal of fixing the house gave me something tangible to ground me when I was feeling down.

At the end of that May I landed a gig back in Madison as a programming instructor for iD Tech’s 2016 Summer Tech Camps. This was another stroke of luck, not because it was more in line with what I wanted to do, but because teaching kids is _exhausting_. I didn’t have time to be sad, and if I did it felt like the kids deserved better. Honestly, I didn’t have time for anything except the occasional quick beer on the terrace with old friends. I biked to work every day since I had no car. From the biking I slowly started to rekindle my athleticism. It took me months of mental gymnastics, inexplicable grief, and tip-toeing around my lack of confidence, but eventually I found my way back into the gym. I also started rock climbing, which turned into a near obsession by the end of the year.

Much to my surprise, I hadn’t lost as much strength as I expected. All of the technique was still there, though a little rusty. I doubled down on relearning what I had forgotten, and found a whole new desire to train. Somewhere deep down, my brain shifted from being ashamed that I’d given up, to happy that I’d had the opportunity to utterly fail. **I was no longer afraid of giving up because I knew that I could start again.**

Over the course of my training since then, I have given up more times than I can count, sometimes for a brief break, sometimes because life was too much to focus on training, sometimes for no clear reason at all. My exercise— and more importantly my expectations for myself — feel completely different than they did all those years ago in Oberlin’s gym.

So, now when I see these motivational signs telling me to not give up, I admit I feel a strange mix of pity and unease. I get that it’s meant to be inspirational. But I can’t help but wonder how many people take those messages to heart and lose faith like I did.

How many of those people could be empowered if, instead, we focused on encouraging people to find their own limits, exceed them when they can, and stop when it feels right? What could fitness look like if instead of focusing of a fickle, idealist routine, we encouraged people to fail on their own terms, to not be ashamed to give up?

As Health and Fitness are prominent industries in the modern world, it’s important to call in the culture when it gets away from us. The well-being of these industries relies on dedicated patronage. There’s nothing evil about that inherently, but it should give us all the more reason to pause and criticize the messaging they feed us. If the “Never Give Up” attitude works for you, great. I won’t tell you to abandon what works for you. It _is_ motivational. What I will tell you is to remain critical of the macro-level culture pervading these industries, and how you fit into and influence that. Empowering your local workout communities (gym, running buddies, lifting circle) to talk about this is a good first step.

I’m more determined to push myself than I ever have been. I’m sitting healthy at around 135 pounds with a 300 pound deadlift on a good day, and damn it I’m happy. It’s because I know I can draw the line in the sand if I need to. I know now that I’m in control. I’ve learned that it’s possible to give up and still be consistent. I’m motivated by the fact that I can always **return**.

If you’re out there reading this and feel like you’re against the wall like I did, it’s okay to give up. It’s okay to start over. It’s the best thing I ever did for myself.

In the timeless words of Chance the Rapper,

> “Today I missed my work out, but it worked out.”

#### **The Mini Post-Grad Survival Guide**

A 5-day email course with amazing tips on budgeting, investing, and productivity for 20-somethings. [Sign up for free](https://morning-darkness-5176.ck.page/75ec2d5152).

How The “Never Give Up” Narrative Failed Me

What I Learned in 6000 Hours of Dota 2


![](/assets/img/1__t__xPXZabsTN574mg__V37__g.png)

**CONTENT WARNING:** Discussion of racial, sexual, homophobic, and transphobic slurs in video games, specifically _Dota 2_.

D**_ota_ is in no way unique in its toxicity. I’m using _Dota_ as a case study due to recent events, but that does not excuse other games.** People have been trash talking each other in online gaming since online gaming was popularized. I remember playing _Halo 2_ as a tween and having players yell homophobic and racial slurs at me as commonly as greetings (often even _as_ a greeting). Some games are worse about this than others, reflective of their culture. _Call of Duty_, for example, is notorious for its crude, violent playerbase, whereas you’d be hard pressed to find such frequent transgressions in _Animal Crossing_.

Nonetheless, the issue is systemic.

![](/assets/img/1__iRP7xjJvd__Tt16Mb30a0__w.png)

June 7, in the midst of the #BlackLivesMatter protests following the wake of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor’s murder, Reddit user u/BrianaBessler made a community plea to the _Dota 2_ subreddit.

![](/assets/img/1__7QPe0IMibjqjODmX__oydtA.png)

This is a common scene for _Dota_, two players trash talking each other in-game. I’ve [written extensively about my experience with _Dota_](https://medium.com/@devon.wells.a/what-i-learned-in-6000-hours-of-dota-2-7b9038c6a563), including how toxic of an environment it can be. What do I mean by _toxic_?

I mean that this behavior is routine. _Dota_ is a high-pressure game. You can spend an hour trying your hardest only to lose because of a teammate’s mistake. This on top of anonymity causes players to throw tantrums and say things they would never say to another player face to face.

This post blew up. With over 11k upvotes at the time of writing, an outlier for r/DotA2, it hit the front page of Reddit. The discussion following in the comments is telling.

![](/assets/img/1__kdTxn7ylsV6lRNcIIGQ5xA.png)

Users made hundreds of comments like the one above, citing their experience with racism in the game. While most of the discussion centered around the in-game community, there was plenty around the subreddit’s culture.

![](/assets/img/1__maMd__J7tWAqv__wqXeTw1Ew.png)
![](/assets/img/1__EbF9R6c1qIbfQCoz__0__d0g.png)

r/DotA2 can be thought of as a decent, although narrow sample representation of the game’s culture. Again, I do not consider this to be unique. _League of Legends_, a game often compared to _Dota_, has a similar or worse community.

Some users remarked that _Dota_ is a worldwide game, and tackling racism stands out in America in ways it does not in other countries.

![](/assets/img/1__BP__FQ__fSmhfPC8V7nvUsag.png)

While all of this may be true, the problem is as pervasive as ever. These comments and the fact that this thread even exists is evidence enough.

In my personal experience, spanning nearly 6000 hours of _Dota 2_, I’ve been called every slur in the book. Perhaps the strangest part is that usually I won’t have said _anything_ to the people who flame me. Unlike having the “F”, “N”, or “T” word yelled at you on the sidewalk, these people have no idea who I am. They can’t see what I look like and make snap judgments about my character based on race, gender, orientation, or anything else. All they have to go off is how I play the game.

In other words, they’re projecting how they feel about minorities or groups they believe are lesser onto anonymous players in a game. Someone plays poorly? They must be “x” minority.

#### A brief history of racism in Dota 2

If these were isolated incidents, they would be bad enough. The problem, however, is that these incidents create a self-perpetuating culture.

One of the most noteworthy examples is Peruvian players in _Dota 2_. For years, there weren’t stable servers in South America for _Dota_ players. The connections were so poor, that it was actually _better_ to play on a 200 millisecond ping (0.2 second lag) by connecting from South America to a North American server, due to how much better equipped the N.A. servers were. _Dota_ is popular in Peru, so Peruvian players wanting to get a better Dota experience would play on N.A. servers.

You can probably fill in the rest of the blanks.

N.A. players didn’t suffer the same 200ms ping. They enjoyed close to no ping. For reference, I average ~20ms playing from Ohio on a decent internet connection. _Dota_ _requires_ split-second decision-making, so playing even a fifth of a second behind other players is debilitating. Hence, Peruvian players were at a distinct disadvantage, and it reflected in their play.

North American players knew this and hated them for it. They concluded they were “game ruiners” and should “get their own servers”. This frustration snowballed into judgments about Peruvian _people_ as a whole.

Speak Spanish in game?   
_Peruvian_.

Hispanic accent?   
_Peruvian_.

Pick a bad hero?   
_Peruvian_.

Make a bad decision?   
_Peruvian_.

Before long, if a player was played poorly, they were automatically labeled as “Peruvian”, even if they weren’t Peruvian at all. I can’t tell you how many times someone has told me to “go home Peru”, even when I explain to them over voice chat that I’m an American in Ohio. It became a way for people to categorically put other players below them, an explanation to tie to a poor performance. And just like other forms of racism, it was caustic and ignorant.

Valve’s (responsible for _Dota 2_) “response” was to add better South American servers, more South American tournaments, and add options for players to only play with those who speak their language.

However, this was only a band-aid for the racist behavior of the _Dota_ community. Players are _still racist_ toward Peruvians, even if they don’t play with them as often.

Unfortunately, this behavior is common in other areas of the world, too, particularly in the Europe and South East Asia regions where _Dota_ is popular. Europeans blame Russians. South East Asians blame the Chinese. No matter where you are, there’s an “other” who foots the blame.

So, you would hope that in all their years of game development and building communities, Valve would have learned something about how to better address the toxicity present in their games.

#### Valve’s response to the June 7th call against racism

Not a week after the Reddit post above, Valve quietly added a default option to filter language in _Dota_. It was a tiny patch with a note on the [update site](http://www.dota2.com/news/updates/).

I found out by opening the game and noticing that certain words were being censored with asterisks. Weird, considering Valve has been forward in the past about how _Dota_ is an adult game with adult language. Why choose to add a censorship option now? Players noticed immediately and within hours a new post blew up on the subreddit.

![](/assets/img/1__G1e7wA8yocC6VzIUu2e__WA.png)

Obviously, Valve took notice of players asking for an answer to the rampant in-game racism.

And this is their answer: a half-assed language filter, so that instead of seeing the full spelling of profanities, you now get to play guessing games as to what slurs players are yelling at you.

The filter isn’t even intelligent — it just censors anything remotely offensive. For instance, “Arse” in the above “Arsenal of the Demonic Vessel” is censored. Players joked that the hero Phantom Assassin would now be “Phantom \*\*\*\*\*\*in”.

![](/assets/img/1__B7ydUZktX9BkKhl4N12KiA.png)

As pointed out above, you can disable the filter, and this brings me to my main point.

![](/assets/img/1__YFCyjYHx3C7wC5aOXCVGqw.jpeg)

#### This is not a solution; it is a weak band-aid

Instead of acknowledging the issue, Valve is dressing it up in its Sunday best, handing out concessions, and asking everyone to look the other way, which _spoiler alert_ is how oppression has always been handled, particularly in America.

People aren’t going to stop being toxic because of a few asterisks, and the recipients of racism, homophobia, and more aren’t going to suddenly feel safe because they can check a box that coddles them from bad words. Worse, it trivializes the harm caused by these slurs by lumping them in the same category as commonplace profanity. Arse and the N-word are not on the same playing field. This filter changes nothing. If anything, it highlights that Valve misunderstands the issue.

I understand that _Dota_ is a worldwide game and Valve is trying to please a lot of people. I’m sure their investors are at the top of the list.

But come on, we can do better than this.

You know what would have been a start? Identify the problem. Condemn racism. Stand up for your players who are affected by it. Ally yourselves with those that are mourning the deaths of people in their community. You have an audience who cares deeply about your game. Write a blog post and say you’re aware of the problem and open to suggestions. Your audience consists of people who theorycraft what a +1 armor increase means for an entire meta.

You’re sitting on some of the most talented designers, developers, and artists in the world and the best you can come up with is a language filter?

**Say something!**

In the past, [Valve has responded](https://www.joindota.com/en/news/76184-update-valve-responds-to-racism-controversy) to racism when the community has been divided on comments made from pro players or casters. Where is that response now when it is needed the most?

Toxicity in games, especially racism, isn’t something that is going to be solved over night. These are intricate, systemic issues built on hundreds of years that have rolled up unassumingly and trickled into ordinary facets of modern life, like video games. I get that. As long as we take complacent baby steps like this, these issues are going to be around for a long, long time.

And it’s not all on Valve. We as players need to speak up. Posts like the one I mentioned are a good first step, but if the rest of the world is organizing against oppression, we cannot sit idly and play our games like nothing is changing.

Call people out in your games. Talk to your friends who make racist off-hand comments. Don’t just mute everyone and anyone who says something that you don’t vibe with.

The gaming industry can do better — and so can we

Valve’s Language Filter is a Cheap Bandage for Toxicity


![](/assets/img/1__C3h6MChdwsrNCqlFES9Hjw.png)

#### RETROSPECTIVE

I**have conditioned my body to wake up at 4:00am to play games before school.** Do I need to do this? Yes. I have three younger siblings, all of whom want the computer. They don’t yet know how to maximize the secret extra time baked into the early morning, special time reserved for unscrupulous things and copying math homework to or from friends.

“Oh come on. You’re the oldest. You’ll get more time than anyone anyway.” Yeah, okay sounds like something a not-oldest sibling would say.

Somehow my grades have not started slipping yet. I’m your average high school fresh-person.

I run downstairs, climb into a leather chair that wants to be put out of its misery, and hoist myself over a godless computer. My dad scrapped it together out of donated parts from his fellow library volunteers. As far as computers go, it is horror incarnate. There’s dust everywhere. The panels are falling off. The ports die and come back to life so often you’d think they were made by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss. It is awesome.

“Can it run _Crysis?_” It would make _Crysis’_ chrome dick shrivel into a cold raisin at the threat of even installing on it, forget running. I’m pretty sure it would randomly turn off at least once a day. But it was still dependable where it counted. It never failed me for _Runescape_, _Neopets_, talking to my friends on AIM, other necessities.

This would’ve been the year my parents started separating. Not like the last however many times. No, this was the real one. The one where you don’t just go over to your dad’s house anymore on weekends to binge _Lord of the Rings_ and junk food. My siblings are all too young to know, but they know.

So this computer is my escape. And in 2007 to me and my friends and at least a dozen other kids around North America, one glorious game was **the** escape.

_MapleStory_.

![](/assets/img/1__iRP7xjJvd__Tt16Mb30a0__w.png)

Picture yourself as an early high schooler, maybe you even still are one. Imagine the single most inexplicable thing that brought you the most happiness. Got it? Good. Now add some early 2000s Korean inspiration, some high quality shrooms, the best soundtrack you’ve ever heard, and mix it all together with that token, not-quite chibi anime style and you’ve got _MapleStory_:

![](/assets/img/0__MxFSkN0fNFmdeDn8.jpeg)

Not sure what you’re looking at? Me neither. And I played this game for years.

It was like one of those dreams where you wake up and aren’t sure if it was a nightmare or awesome. Also it lasted like 4 years, you wake up feeling slimy, and you’re not sure if you liked it.

Okay, I admit I do recognize quite a bit of what’s going on in this photo. I played _MapleStory_ as soon as it was available in North America. I don’t remember how I found it. Maybe it was installed on one of the library computers, and I just went for it (shout out to whoever installed games on computer 4 against the library policy). The giant tomato above is new to me, though not at all surprising. But the rest of it hits like that first step on the beach after a 5 hour road trip with your family. I can hear the music of Ellinia (the OG forest area), the sounds of noobs whacking away at whatever that tomato is. You can tell they’re noobs because look at them. Is this the guy you want in your party?

![](/assets/img/0__j7ljDDNasOwT1r6l.jpeg)

There’s so much to remember about this game. In fact, all of the 7 people who played this routinely feel pangs of nostalgia over the smallest hints at this masterpiece.

And it _was_ a masterpiece.

_MapleStory_ was/is an MMORPG, AKA a “MM Online Role Playing Game.” Back in the day, neither me nor any of my friends knew what that stood for. Everyone just called them “MMOs”. Not only is _MapleStory_ an MMO, but it came about during the golden age of MMOs, a time when titans like _World of Warcraft_, _Everquest_, and _Guild Wars_ united gamers by the truckload in their fantasy worlds. Unlike other multiplayer games, MMOs brought gamers old and new to a place of community, a place where you could learn friendship, commitment, even loss.

(I distinctly remember attending funerals for players who **actually died IRL** and thus never logged into games again. Or if they did it was terrifying and we collectively never spoke of it.)

The point is, MMOs were doing something different. Each one had a different flavor, and also a different price. That’s part of why _MapleStory_ was so attractive. At first, the game was completely free. I say at first because, even though the game is technically still free to play, this is the game that (arguably) invented micro-transactions. You could customize your character with all kinds of adorable clothes, hair, and makeup. You could buy pets. You could get a competitive advantage. All of this sounds pretty standard today, but back then it was revolutionary. _MapleStory_ became a popularity contest to some, and garnering fame (there was a literal fame mechanic where you could “upvote” or “downvote” players) meant outclassing your pleb friends who didn’t spend the money or time. There was a free market, auction house, economy, the whole shebang.

Regardless of this, the game was effectively free. This opened the door to MMOs for many young gamers, like my friends and me who, as penniless teenagers, could not yet afford to slap $15 a month for _WoW_. What I’m saying is it was accessible. For many it popped their MMO cherry.

Going back to the micro-transactions — they were all somewhat secondary to the actual game, which was around long before the micro-transactions came about.

The game itself revolved around what every other MMO did: role playing as whoever you wanted to be in a fantasy world with your friends/frenemies. There was a loose, convoluted story that no one paid attention to. There was progression, if you can call it that. Leveling up was, for lack of a better phrase, the worst most grindy shit I have ever done in any game ever. In order to gain experience (to level up and get stronger) you had to spend hours, sometimes days killing the same enemies over and over. It was a mindless, uphill slog that require passive attention. Worse, you often had to compete for the best training areas with other players. Phrases like “CC PLS” were common, which translates to “GTFO I’m training here.” I could write entire papers just on the progression system in early _Maple_, but that’s not what this article is about.

However tedious and repetitive the “core” of the game was, it paved way for something miraculous and altogether presumably unintended. The mindlessness of the gameplay became a channel for actually engaging with your friends. You would slap slimes for 3 hours straight for little gain, but between every slime killed you typed away to guildmates, party members, or people trying to steal your slimes.

_MapleStory_ was a lot of things. It ran the gambit of beauty simulator, ARPG, Weeb escapism, and so much more. Every hand drawn map was a breath of 2D-sidescrolling, pseudo-platforming fresh air. As in many MMOs, many areas hold special memories even now. I can still throw on a song from Ellinia or Henesys and almost come to tears. Even the little login screen is almost too much.

![](/assets/img/0__9fSS596VvkNYkj7a.jpeg)

While plenty of games are nostalgic, I think in my conversations with former players, they almost always agree _MapleStory_ had a special draw to it. Something intangible. A simplistic innocence. That feeling of sneaking onto the computer early in the morning. That one nice Aunt wrapping you in a warm blanket at the family picnic, though you didn’t know you needed one.

After I found other games later in high school, notably _World of Warcraft_, _MapleStory_ was an on and off fling for me and my friends. Honestly, as they continued to add more to the game, it lost its purity. Maybe I got jaded, but all of the extra flashy new skills and items they added felt shallow and overdone compared to the OG game. The updates were understandable, of course. The game had to grow once people realized there wasn’t much more to do than slap slimes and earn social cred. I’m sure it’s still fun, but nothing will ever be quite like those first couple years though when everything was fresh.

The updates continued for years, and it still retains a mostly hardcore playerbase of old veterans. There’s even a _MapleStory 2.0_, released recently to North American players.

At this point, there are two groups of readers. Either you played this game at one point, and the waterworks are on because you are one of those dozen kids who remember. Or you are thoroughly confused, and I appreciate you reading this far. All I can say for sure is that _MapleStory_, from its wacky grindfest gameplay to its art and vibe, remains a cornerstone in the early MMO landscape, and a dear old friend.

Remembering MapleStory


![](/assets/img/1__0HDyMyOzx__jLGlZmH__LaKw.png)

#### RETROSPECTIVE

C**_hrono Cross_ is the spiritual sequel to _Chrono Trigger_. Both were created by Square Enix back when they still made JRPGs that were a little funky.** While many _Chrono Trigger_ fans were upset by what _Chrono Cross_ is _not_ (namely an actual sequel to _Chrono Trigger_), I’m here to review what it _is_.

**Or more accurately, what it is all these years later.**

### CHRONO WHO?

_Chrono Cross_ is that quiet kid in the back of class who everyone knows because his older brother is the quarterback, but no one talks to because he’s, well, not the quarterback.

And yet, when you get to know him, he’s actually a really great guy.

In the same way, it’s hard to talk about _Chrono Cross_ without talking about _Chrono Trigger_. But you know what? I’m going to try. Because I played _Chrono Cross_ in middle school after begging my mom to buy a new game. It cost $19.99 and I only bought it because I thought the case looked cool.

![](/assets/img/1__Ef__FAM1ITuVH3JGouXPjjQ.jpeg)

At the time, I had no idea what _Chrono Trigger_ was. In fact, I didn’t even find out it was part of an entire ethos until years later.

_Chrono Cross_ exists in the same universe as _Chrono Trigger_, but does something completely different. You play as Serge, the bandanna-wearing, swallow wielding protagonist from the cover art. Fun fact: this game taught me what a swallow is (it’s that Darth Maul looking weapon above). Serge is your typical JRPG protagonist: he speaks few to no words, grew up in a humble village, and constantly blurs the line between lazy character writing and masterful storytelling.

### WORLD BUILDING

World building is the art of constructing a _coherent_, imaginary universe. Coherent is italicized because making an imaginary universe is no small feat — it has to feel organic to the player (or reader). Too often gaming studios cram together a hodgepodge of fantasy tropes with no rhyme or reason, which ironically ends up watering down the experience. Square is no exception to this. Compare _Final Fantasy XV_ with _Final Fantasy VII_, for example. They both have magic and future technology living in harmony, but _XV_ feels awkward while _VII_ feels necessary.

Fortunately, this is one of those legendary Square Enix games before they forgot how to write with nuance. Even though there’s a main plot line, the story of this world and your relationship with it primarily unfolds in subtle interactions with the characters and places in it. The main plot is confusing and jumps through different dimensions and moments in time, but it works within the context of the universe. To this day I couldn’t explain to you the plot in full. In fact, I recently watched [this informative video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTlCXofUIaE) that takes you through it and cannot believe I kept up at all as a tween.

Like any good mystery, you never quite know what’s going on, but you feel drawn to press on. The multitude of wacky, well-developed characters you meet throughout your journey compounds the intrigue with substance. There’s so much to discover in this world that you forget about the overarching story until it sneaks back up on you and slaps you across the face. It’s like how _Game of Thrones_ got everyone hooked with its characters’ intertwining stories, but then suddenly they’d drop in a white walker episode to focus the story. (Unlike _Game of Thrones_, _Chrono Cross_ doesn’t throw its premise into a dumpster fire at the end.)

On a less abstract level, the world itself is visually stunning. The world is huge for a game released in 1999. Much like _Breath of the Wild_, each area is polished but ambitious in relation to the other areas.

![](/assets/img/1__S5E6zLseaaBj9VN1CrxecA.png)
![](/assets/img/1____t6p9__756BvYjL3y8brfaQ.png)
![](/assets/img/1__87oOt4CQrdPHIr0fVArK1w.png)
![](/assets/img/1__m6z9gJT__uFokSYU__ipqDhw.png)

There’s even an M.C. Escher inspired area that doubles as a puzzle.

![](/assets/img/1__XK1mPY0Y2yPf4FNKwUZaIQ.jpeg)

### SOUND OF TIME

When I remember this game, I remember this absurd story and all of the characters. But as with any great old game, it’s the soundtrack that tied everything together. Composer [Yasunori Mitsuda](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yasunori_Mitsuda) cemented his legacy with the soundtrack for _Chrono Cross_ (’99) after having already done _Chrono Trigger_ (‘95), _Xenogears_ (‘98), and _Mario Party_ (‘98). He went on to compose numerous other games as well.

The soundtrack, originally spanning [over 3 discs and 180 minutes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Music_of_Chrono_Cross), carries you through the game and helps to connect the sprawling adventure, despite some confusing time jumps. Like any good music it guides the player’s emotions, but it also establishes momentum along the journey.

At the beginning, for example, the calming vibes of [_Home Arni Village_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8ILhJCr60A) ground the player in the stillness of Serge’s hometown. As more of the story builds and you adventure your way across the “Home” world, the songs build in intensity, pacing you for a major turning point in the game (which I’m trying not to spoil), until it finally climaxes at said point. After that climax, the game slows again, and so does the music. Returning to Arni Village, Mitsuda reminds us of the place that it was earlier in the story by rearranging the original song into a slower, sadder version: [_Another Arni_](https://youtu.be/GGZvYTIPo10?list=PLe49bTB1MEI2UcYl9lzqn5MeUH5aaGhdu)_._

### MEMORIES

Looking back, there’s a lot to learn from what _Chrono Cross_ did right. The story was complex and goofy, yet felt connected because of the music and authenticity of its characters. Even though it was pretty out there as far as JRPGs go, it holds up all these years later.

It was also one of the first games I can remember that gave the player a ton of control over how the story unfolds. Who you recruited into your party and where you took them made an impact on the overall game. There were numerous “false” endings, and a true ending that was a real mind breaker.

_Chrono Cross_ had 45 characters that you could recruit into your party. _Forty five._ Think about that. That’s more than _Super Smash Bros. Braw_l and that’s a fighting game. These are 45 unique characters with backstories that influence the game. If you wanted to have control over that many characters in an RPG at the time, the closest you could get was _Fire Emblem_, an entirely different beast. When I think about my favorite times with this game, I think of the journeys that I went on with those 45 characters, recruiting them, losing some, loathing others.

What’s most impressive about the cast is that they (almost) all felt meaningful. They weren’t plot devices or a typecast healer the game shoved in your face. No, they were _companions_ I recruited because I wanted them on my journey. Fuck healing, that mushroom-man is my friend.

![](/assets/img/1__D__NZbqq__Mw8sHdRsPKR__dA.png)

When all is said and done, though the story, music, and world are phenomenal, it’s these connections that put _Chrono Cross_ near the top of my list of memorable games. I look forward to my next play-through.

Reflecting on Square Enix’s classic JRPG sequel

The Legend of Chrono Cross


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Lately, I’ve been cooking a ton of “gourmet” dishes. I’m no professional chef, but that doesn’t stop me from practicing. I go all out on the ingredients, merging my fun budget with my food budget so I can afford the best. Farm fresh shallots, capers, imported olive oil, mushrooms with names I can’t pronounce. My plating is my painting. I leave long strokes with my sauces and flourish with my garnish. It’s as meditative as it is delicious.

I post my dishes to Instagram to record my results. And to show off. Mostly to show off. One of my peripheral friends asked if I would be willing to cook for an event she wanted to host. She said she’d pay for everything and even throw in a catering bonus for me. A flattering proposal, but I declined.

Another friend (who is mutual friends with the requester), asked why I refused. “People love your cooking. This is your opportunity to get some recognition.” I told them that I didn’t want recognition. They pressed further, shocked that I would turn down a “good side-hustle.” They concluded that I’m young and should be looking for as many opportunities as I can find. After some back and forth, I finally said, “I’m not doing it because I don’t want to.”

They let it go after that, but the conversation left a sour taste in my mouth. Why turn down an opportunity to do what I love _and_ make money on it? I’ll tell you.

#### Startup-Bro-Silicon-Valley-YouTube-Vlogger Capitalism Sucks

Entrepreneurial culture has turned every hobby into a profit-potential. In an age where content creation is king, anything you do can be used as kindling for your next “side-hustle.” Seriously, how many side hustles can you have before it’s just a hustle?

The Econ-101 listicle “experts” of the internet will tell you that you can — and should be — constantly thinking of ways to turn what you love into sweet, sweet cash. (And it’s easier now than ever! Just subscribe to this $50 crash course, and you can be on your way to making millions doing what you love.)

There’s a timeless quote that captures how I feel about this.

> “ok but y tho”

> — unknown internet prodigy

Too often, people married to the “let’s get this bread” attitude forget why they’re grinding in the first place. This is especially true in my age group (mid to late 20s). Everywhere I look, someone is pushing us to find traditional success. And if we don’t? Then we’re labeled as failures compared to the generation above us.

For me, I grind because I want to live. I cook for me, because it’s fun, and it’s something _I_ want to do for me and me alone. (Okay, maybe my partner too since she eats my food.) I don’t cook so I can peacock some half-baked catering business in addition to my 40hr job. I don’t work as hard as I do so that I can go work somewhere else. Maybe some people are into that, but it isn’t me. My guess is that most others out there aren’t either.

Not every facet of life needs or _should_ be making you money. Capitalism’s downfall is that it leaves little room for unbiased curiosity, for fun that isn’t subservient to wealth domination.

It’s nice to make a buck (or even a living) doing something that you love — don’t get me wrong. I’m enjoying the few dollars I make here and there writing on Medium, for example. The problem is our obsession with it as a culture. The flood of everyone turning their “passion” into an Instagram hustle, an app, or a trendy blog is tiring and uninspired.

There’s a certain bliss that comes from enjoying your hobbies just for the sake of it. Own that. I will continue to cook for me, feed off the praise of The Gram, and find catharsis in my amateur plating.

#### **The Mini Post-Grad Survival Guide**

A 5-day email course with amazing tips on budgeting, investing, and productivity for 20-somethings. [Sign up for free](https://morning-darkness-5176.ck.page/75ec2d5152).

Stop Trying to Monetize Everything


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E**arlier this year I treated myself to an early birthday gift: the latest _Fire Emblem_. I was ecstatic. The reviews were excellent, and the _Fire Emblem_ series is among my favorites. But one thing had me nervous.**

During my pre-purchase research, I read about the calendar system and how the game featured a _“Persona”_ style approach to character-building. The idea is you spend a sizable portion of the game interacting with your team and learning more about them. This is a departure from how they’ve done it in the past, where you build relationships with the characters through support conversations, side-missions, the battles, and of course, the plot.

_Fire Emblem: Three Houses_ uses all of these to build character relationships as well, don’t get me wrong, but it adds the calendar as an additional dimension.

Sounds great on paper, but I was hesitant.

A core feature of the _Fire Emblem_ series has always been character-driven storytelling wrapped in high-stakes turn-based battling. The two have co-existed organically for years. The plot would force you into battles. Those battles nurtured relationships with the cast, revealing slightly more about everyone over time. The core gameplay mechanic was battling, and character-development/plot were natural outcomes.

_Fire Emblem: Three Houses_ doesn’t follow that same formula. Instead, much of the development and storytelling happens during the “exploration” part of the game where you talk to the cast from your home base.

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Here’s where the problem starts to come in. The time you spend at home base getting to know the characters (among other things that I’m grouping into the same category, like “instructing,” which yields skill experience) ends up being such a large part of the game that it makes the battles feel like an afterthought. And since the major plot points happen in-tandem with the battles, the story ends up feeling slow and muddled.

Truth be told, it took me nearly 6 months to finish this game, despite the fact that, overall, I loved it. The problem is that I would play a chapter, fight a battle, get super hyped about the story… and then return to the monastery.

Once at the monastery, the game would go over the “wow huge plot point” and act as though it had critical significance, but then force me to spend the next _month_ (of in-game time) doing the same auxiliary quests, talking to all of the characters to get their input, and largely ignoring whatever major thing just happened.

Your initial thought might be, “Well, why didn’t you just skip through it?”

Because that’s not _Fire Emblem_. _Fire Emblem_ is not a game for skipping content. _Fire Emblem_ is about talking to your crew, building the dream team, and getting attached to their relationships with each other. The gems in these series have always been hidden between the lines.

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But in _Three Houses_, what I’d expect to be in-between the lines ended up being a bunch of shallow filler and redundant “gameplay.” Why do I need an entire “instruction” day to add a small amount of skill experience to my units? This used to happen automatically by just _using the units in battle_. What’s the point of going to the shopping district when all of the things they sell there are available _in the battle screen_?

All of these “features” slow down the game but for little gain. And in _Fire Emblem_, a series typically set around plot twists and player choices, all this ends up doing is make the story feel unimportant. By the time I finished the month, I had almost forgotten whatever major plot point happened before, and whatever new plot point they would introduce had less impact.

I think the worst example of this was in the Golden Deer route when sieging the Imperial Army. I thought “Oh boy, major battle after major battle here we go.” The game sets it up as this long conquest, which is a classic move for _Fire Emblem_.

But in-between each battle guess what happens? That’s right. Somehow they decided it would be a good idea to break immersion and put you _all the way back in the Monastery which is supposed to be hundreds of miles out of your way._

Stuff like this shatters what would otherwise be a well-paced game.

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In my opinion, the previous games in the series did not suffer from this, even though they often had side missions or other departures from the main plot. This is due to the fact that the side missions felt meaningful and maintained pacing, even though they weren’t necessarily directly related to the game.

What do I mean by “maintained pacing?” Let me give an example from another game that did it right. Not so coincidentally, let me talk about _Persona 5_, which laid the blueprint for this calendar system.

In _Persona 5_ you have a similar setup. A major plot point happens roughly every month followed by exploring a dungeon, and in-between those plot points you spend time learning about your team, exploring the city, and more.

Yet the game does not slow down. In fact, it seems to speed up.

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That’s because what you do in _Persona’s_ downtime feels important in the larger context of the game. The interactions you have with the major characters in this downtime build in distinct, standalone ways that make you _excited_ to play that part of the game. They add flavor to the overall experience in a way that isn’t forced and doesn’t feel repetitive. Most of all, these in-between periods work in the context of the game. There’s a reason for the time between events, and due to the events in the plot, that time feels precious. Every day counts. If you don’t do something fast enough, you lose the game.

Contrast this to _Fire Emblem_, where the time feels completely random and the jumps back to the Monastery (as pointed out above) often feel arbitrary or worse. There’s often no sense of _why_ there’s a whole month between plot points, or what the point of even returning to the Monastery is.

#### The value of slower pacing

After all of that, a natural conclusion might be that games should just avoid slow pacing, but that’s far from true. Some games only really shine _because_ of a slower pace.

One great example is _The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild_.

Here’s a game with near-perfect reviews and a hungry following years after being released. An old friend described it as a “quiet masterpiece.”

Saying that the game is slow is an understatement. The game lets you do whatever you want at whatever pace you want, and due to the grandeur and scale of the world, the pace is naturally slower. The majesty of _BotW_ accumulates over time. It’s a long, beautiful journey into a serene apocalypse.

That’s not the kind of experience you can rush.

#### Downtime wasn’t all bad…

Despite my negativity, there were redeeming qualities to the downtime, especially early in the game. Having the opportunity to talk to all of the characters and explore the Monastery was fun. It added a new element to the series, which is always refreshing in a game like _Fire Emblem_ that owes success to its tried-and-true formula.

Personally, I would have loved if they just cut this part out of the game after a certain point. By the end of the game, I was just going through it as fast as possible because it felt so unimportant compared to the larger scope of events.

If instead, they could have found a way to shorten or condense it, as well as modify it so it made sense within the context of the larger narrative (i.e. not jumping back to the base in the middle of a conquest halfway across the continent), I think it would work better.

Some of Fire Emblem: Three Houses’ key additions interrupt the flow of gameplay

Dev 📓 Journal