A blog. Yes, everyone has them. Including me now.

Why now? I have high hopes to catalog the thoughts that run through my head… Usually regarding video games. Which explains both the title and motive. The explanation of “it’s just a game” is not something I believe in when dismissing the impact of games culturally. I also have a lot of time on my hands that I feel I should be improving myself with in some way. I’d like to improve my writing.

I’m very adamant in my beliefs that video games are a reflection of who we are and our culture at large. It’s more than just entertainment medium meant for consumption. Through personal reflection I can see the choice of games I play and clearly identify why they appeal to me. Why I consider the gaming community a home of sorts. Aspects of me wrapped in code… Systems, visuals, and sounds. Every (good and bad) game I’ve played has had experiences that have left an imprint on me. Games have meaning. Some of the experiences are social and memorable because they were on a couch with some buddies, or others because they left me realizing how alone I was.

So keeping the introduction brief, I hope to eventually build a series of posts that I’m proud of and share with whoever may be reading this why I feel games are more than simply a consumable commodity; what I love about them.

I hope to keep this blog positive and personal. Personal in a way meaning my thoughts unaltered by outside discrimination.

~Punk

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(this article was originally written for a series that Marie the Bee hosted on her blog. She helped me edit it into it’s current form)

Growing up, video games had always been around and an integral part of my identity. A lot of my hobbies spawned from gaming. Through games I came to writing, anime, skateboarding, and programming. Games even shaped my interest in music.

The reason why games were so prevalent in my life? It was an escape from a rough childhood. I was the youngest of three growing up in a household with an alcoholic parent. My siblings were old enough to always go out with friends when there was trouble at home, but I was six years behind them. So, I had to endure my father’s unpredictable temper and mood swings. Then, when I was 13, my mother finally left him, and I was stuck in the middle of the divorce. My parents went back and forth vying for custody, with me overhearing and knowing it was because whoever had me collected child support from the other. Growing up in that environment combined with feeling like the only worth I had to my parents was a child support payment, I had no self-esteem to speak of and just wanted not to exist. I also still had to deal with the consequences of my father’s alcoholism. He couldn’t keep a job; we moved a lot. At 15, I dropped out of high school when he moved us away from my friends. He didn’t even care, he was so wrapped up in the bottle.

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