Words Can Hurt
“All I can say is, get carried” was the last thing that was said to me, 5 years ago. Livid that I was treated as such and made to feel that the one player commendation I got was more like a pity fuck than a ‘hey at least you tried and did as best you could’, I left the Duty Finder queue. I teleported back to the Free Company’s house, where ever that was, dumped a bunch of stuff in the bank to try to repay what kindnesses had been shown to me in the form of gear and currency and I logged out. I vowed I was never going to return to Eorzea and didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to its citizens in the wake of destruction that arrived at the end of the story. At least that was the lie that I kept telling myself, for years. I secretly wanted them to be alright and safe, even though they were nothing more than a digital imagination on a hard drive somewhere.
So that was it then? I was to lick my wounds just because some worthless, pimply faced jackass was displeased with my performance in the Arms of Alexander; lording his superiority complex over me because I was considered a lowly console using plebian and he of the PC master race? Yeah, that’s exactly what I did. I let some stranger get to me. I always do in situations like this. I really need to learn that not everyone has the same heart as me, I really do. I do hope, however, in the intervening five years since I abandoned these imaginary shores that this particular piece of human filth has had a miserable run at life.
What brought all this up, you ask? Sitting here, logged back in after a 5 year break and made a new tank from the ground up. The sting of failure and betrayal that’s coming (again) in the main story quest fills my gullet with bile and salt and hatred and self loathing. I continue this fool’s errand, hoping for a new and better outcome, even though I know full well what the fates have in store for me and the rest of my friends. I sit here, everyone asleep or at work, staring at the Duty Finder and about to enter The Bowl of Embers again for the first time with this character. I don’t have a keyboard that works with PS5 so I’ll be unable to communicate with the 3 strangers that are going to be thrown in there with me.
Don’t let it get to you, don’t let it get to you, don’t let it get to you I chant to myself as I look up the old guides on YouTube that I used all those years ago and hope that their information is still relevant. What am I, fucking 12? I’m 41 for fuck’s sake! Why should I even give a shit what 3 randoms on the internet even think of me or my play choices?
I also hate it when random inspiration comes to me at fucking 2:30am. Thanks, muse.