A Crisis of Faith

Let me preface this by saying that some of what follows may reveal me to be an arrogant, elitist asshole and I may indirectly hurt your feelings. But I need to get this off my chest.

I just got back from Origins, a huge convention celebrating all aspects of geek gaming culture. There were board games, video games, LARPs, and role-playing games going on pretty much 24 hours a day. Seems like a geek paradise. I had never been to a convention of such magnitude, so this was my first exposure to such a dense concentration of geekdom.

It started off great. It was neat to wander around and see all the cool events, play games, and wander around the dealer’s room. But a few days into it, something started to shift for me. I felt disconnected from the people I supposedly had so many common interests with. I overheard debates about Firefly, 4th Edition D&D, various movies, etc. I had no interest in participating. This growing unease culminated in a sudden realization: “I don’t *like* these people.” And by “these people,” I meant geeks.

All rationalizations about sports fans and other “mundanes” being geeks in their own way collapsed. All justifications for having a peculiar hobby fell apart. A lot of the convention-goers were smelly, rude, morbidly obese or borderline delusional. When “normal” people thought of geeks, they envisioned these people. I was embarrassed.

I was hit hardest by the dealer’s room. I felt like a veil had fallen and I saw everything anew. I was horrified by the thoughts I was having: “People who dress up like fantasy characters are morons.” “It is stupid to waste money on RPG supplements and miniatures.” “Look at all this stupid shit that people are into.” “I’d rather be somewhere else kissing a girl.”

I retreated to the concourse, sat down on a bench, and tried to get a grip on what I was feeling. I felt horrible for having those thoughts and horrible for judging total strangers. But I watched them amble by with their stupid t-shirts, talking about Joss Whedon like he was a god, and I felt revulsion.

Let me skip ahead to the two things I figured out about myself and my relationship to geekdom:

1. Context – I never, not even for one day, want to live in a geek world. A game convention is an artificially-created parallel world where the only things that matter are dice, character sheets, rulebooks, and caffeine. I realized that, while I have many geeky interests, I have no desire to devote vast amounts of time and energy to any one of them. For me, there was something obscene about immersing oneself into that world. I realized that I had integrated being a geek into the larger context of my life, not the other way around. I want balance in my life. In addition to learning someone’s opinion on whether Deckard is a replicant, I want to know what they feel, what their hopes are and what they are up to in life.

2. Consumers vs. Creators – I am a creator and I naturally gravitate to other creators. The majority of important, successful relationships in my life are with other creative people. I feel that my life has meaning when I am making art, writing a story, designing a game, etc. Wanting to add something to the world is a very powerful drive in me and I form connections with others who feel a similar way.

I don’t have a lot of room for people who just consume and contribute nothing. I think that, subconsciously, I feel rejected by non-creative types because they are depriving me of the way I am used to connecting with people. Standing in the dealer’s room, I realized that consumerism is a cornerstone for geekdom. We could not be geeks if there wasn’t something to buy or take in, be it a game, a movie ticket, a book, internet access, whatever. So I suddenly felt surrounded by people I could not have meaningful connections with, because, on some base level, my arrogance had manifested as a shield around my loneliness/artistic self-estrangement.

I felt way more at ease around the game designers, artists and writers there than I did around the people who were fans of those creators. I have respect and admiration for directors, writers, actors, podcasters, designers, etc., but I am not that gushing fanboy who elevates them onto some plateau above other human beings. I am discouraged when I encounter geeks who are really resigned about what is possible in their lives. It is like they have decided “I could never do that” so they’ll just live vicariously through role-playing games or TV shows. That’s bullshit. “You CAN do that!” I want to tell them. “There is something that only you can give.”

So at this point I am still taking stock of my life and processing this new attitude towards geekdom. I’m not going to suddenly stop being a geek, but I do need to take a look at the discrepancy between the geek I *say* I am and the one I truly am and how this impacts other people.

So do you think I need to turn in my geek card?

8 Comments on "A Crisis of Faith"

  1. Dan says:

    I agree with you on the producer / consumer world view. To be a devil’s advocate for a second, though, you must consider that the morbidly obese man in the Gwar t-shirt with the rules supplements in his hands, well, he might be a producer in his real life job, like an architect or a engineer. That is wishful thinking though, as I’m betting that most of Columbus’ basements were empty that weekend for Origins.

    You are still a geek. You’ve just been exposed to the varying extremes of geekiness. Gluttony is bad any way you take it, not just food. There are some out there that just get way too much of one thing and don’t expose themselves to other aspects of life. I think you get a healthy dose without overdoing it.

  2. Fred says:

    No. There is no need to turn your geek card in. Dan is absolutely right and his comments convey a lot of wisdom as well as understanding of the real world. We all are creators and consumers. Some more visible than others. The President of the United States can create policies that may impact the country and the world at large. But, he is also a consumer of the input of his advisors. Thus, creation might not be the direct result of the creator. You may not recognize the baker at your corner bakery because he has not written a best seller on pastry. But, he may be feeding the author who is writing one.

    It is understandable that we feel a connection with those who share some of our traits, as “Birds of the same feather, flock together.” Yet, this may be a self-protection mechanism as our “eguals” are not going to fault our failings.

    We also may want to examine the purpose of our creation: Are we creating for the world or for ourselves? Is the book that I am writing to boost my ego or is it to save humanity from some of the aches that afflicted me? In most cases, the answer is an ego trip. But, our arrogance tells us that the world needs another book.

    The reality is that the world did not ask for another Picasso’s painting, Machiavelli’s Prince, or Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. As creators, we may feel that we belong to a special club and that the world is indebted to us. However, that is our arrogance talking. We are the ones indebted to society for choosing to examine our work.

    Authenticity also plays a major role on the impact of reality on our lives. A blind person climbing Mount Everest has more impact on me than the best seller book of all time on mountain climbing. Thus, the messenger may be as important as the message and we should keep this in mind when creating for others.

    It is not my intention to crush the initiative of young minds, such as yours, but to add to the menu of “taking stock” in your life, as the possibilities are limitless, if you set yourself free to do what you enjoy most doing, whether or not you are the best at doing it. The first test is for you to live life. The second is for people to judge.

    Good job. I am proud of your self-evaluation and honesty in telling the world about it.

  3. jenny says:

    turn in your geek card. if it teleports back to you, you’re still a geek. but i still think of you as more of the artist and creative type.

  4. Jeff says:

    I had a similar revelation last year, though definitely not as thoroughly thought out as your own.

    Thanks for sharing… it has given me more to think about. And, I have to say, I feel a bit inspired by your words as well.

  5. Mom says:

    Wait to throw it away until you come to visit us. We will have a party.

  6. Monica says:

    I actually like occasionally going to these sorts of things to remind me of where I fall in all this. I am obsessive, I am a geek, I am both a consumer and creator, but all-in-all, I lead a pretty normal, balanced life.

    At the end of the day, we are more than a singular identifier.

    I guess that’s why they invented names… so we could just use that to explain who we are:)

  7. Echo says:

    Woo. I sympathize, but I also think you’re being too hard on the convention.

    1 – It *is* an artificial world where only geeky subjects matter. That doesn’t mean that many, even most, of the people you encountered don’t enjoy just as much balance in life outside those doors as you do. They may enjoy becoming JUST a geek for a weekend, but that’s not a statement against the balance of their lives.

    2 – Some people have no balance, and of course they’re going to show up. Geeks have been fighting against the stereotype of obese men with no hygiene who live in their parents’ basements for along as “geek” as been a self-identifier. They’re there. We have to live with them. But they don’t characterize or personify what it is to have geeky hobbies.

    3 – Many, many hobbies are all about consumerism. Geekiness is hardly special.

    4 – Many people can be and are creative, but not everyone can create *games*. I write. I don’t create games. Sometimes I playtest them. When I play games or attend a convention, it is only as a consumer. I am happy being a creator in some realms and a consumer in others. It’s part of my balance.

    OTOH, I don’t get being drooling fans of people. Actually, many sff and gaming geek cultures are LESS drooly in their fandom than other fandoms (e.g. soap operas). But it’s still drooly enough to creep me out. Not my thing. Hall costumes and convention sensuality, OTOH, I dig.

    OTOH #2, I find that games are a fantastic way to connect in the “normal world.” As in, if I meet someone who happens to play games in my normal life or can seek them out, they have a great chance of becoming friends. This is not true in game conventions. I find I leave with the same friends/connections as I arrived with, unless one of those friends happens to know someone and introduce me. I’m not sure why this is, but it may be the lack of balance you’re talking about.

    None of this means you have to like going to gaming conventions of course :-p.

  8. E says:

    I empathize. I’ve never been enough of anything to fit in anywhere. Digging your own niche is hard work but pretty rewarding once you’ve got it the way you like it 😉

    I think I feel sorry for producers who depend on consumers and yet have nothing but contempt for their consumers.

    My solution is that my product and who I am are completely separate facets of my existence.

    OT, ish. You’ve read the 5 Geek Social Fallacies, right?

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