Chris wrote recently about this topic and I wanted to give my formal response. In interest of full disclosure, I am also an avid fan of Role Playing Games (or RPG’s as we have called them since the days of yore) and played D&D in high school. I’ve also played since then, though with less frequency, as being away from the school environment makes it harder to get a good gaming group together.

As Chris pointed out in one of his comments, the deep concern at the heart of all of the hysteria and/or reaction against role playing games is the concept that they are in some sense not make-believe at all, but real.
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So listen.

At the end of the day, when all’s said and done, in this day and age and at this point in time, basically:

We love games.  Read the rest of this entry »

You’re traveling through the wastes, and you come to a massive, rocky canyon that was once spanned by a great bridge, but now lies in ruins and fragments. Ahead of you is the face of the other side, and as you stumble down a dirty slope to the floor of the canyon, you catch a glimpse of greenery ahead.

As you’re searching for a path upwards, you wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you. But soon you find a small gulch running perpendicular to the canyon: looking left and right you see that it is a hidden road, starting hidden at the base of the canyon, and running up into what seems to be a jungle.

Making your way blearily up the path, what starts as a small tree here and there, becomes quickly the jungle you saw; and as the path bends off to your right, you see a wooden wall with a gate. Two men – a man and woman on closer inspection, guard the way in hoods and robes. The man motions for you to come forward.

“He knew you were coming. Welcome! Please, He would like to meet you.”
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I remember when I was much younger; somewhere between 8 and 10 years old.  I was at church listening in on a conversation between my mother and an older female parishioner.  The woman was saying to my mother, “I think it’s necessary for children to be exposed to evil.”  I suppose her point was that it may do more harm than good to shelter a child from certain realities that he must surely one day face.  I remember that at the time that seemed rather foolish to me.

But of course, it tends to happen anyway.  And what important and interesting happenings those are!

The first time you get picked on by a bully.  The day you realized you would one day die.  The first time you are used by another human being.

How important, in those contexts, are our introductions to terror?  How much did we learn from them; their initial impact, but also the way in which the terror is dealt with by our hero?

So we return to the Doctor, and to the Theme.

We should regard Theme in both senses;  the musical as well as the literary.

I offer this quote from the Wikipedia article on the subject:

“The theme has been often called both memorable and frightening, priming the viewer for what was to follow. During the 1970s, the Radio Times, the BBC’s own listings magazine, announced that a child’s mother said the theme music terrified her son. The Radio Times was apologetic, but the theme music remained.”

Yes it did.

There’s an important segment of the theme music, known as the “bridge” or the “middle eight”, which “is an uplifting interlude in a major key that usually features in the closing credits or the full version of the theme.”

These two elements of the theme combine to create a complete picture of the soul of the show.  At the beginning we have darkness and a fear of the unknown.  The darkness is dispelled by a stab of light: in the music the middle eight; in the show itself, the Doctor.

In answer to the woman who gave that advice to my mom all those years ago: All people will, at one time or another, encounter evil; hatred, fear, injustice.  The important thing is not that we stress the fact that these exist; this will become abundantly clear to them as they grow up.

The important thing is that we discover good ways in which their minds can be excited by the possibility of hope offered by such characters as the Doctor.  That possibility is made manifest for Christians by the Lord Himself, to whom we attribute the title Our Sure Hope.  We’re responsible for tilling the soil, making sure that our offspring become the “good ground”; ready for the Sower.

Say!  That gives me an idea for another essay!  Garth!  Rejoice!

When I was doing research about one of my essays, I talked to someone kind of randomly – a game reviewer who was  rather astute – about choice in games. He pointed out that in most games, freedom is not genuine. If you do believe in free will but not in providence, you may feel chafed as you ‘kick against the goads’ in some more story or movie-like games. You would like to be able to really shape the future of that virtual world; after all, the point of being the hero is being the decider, the turner of tides and the shaper of futures.

I once pointed out to my roommate that games – most anyway – offer you the freedom to fail. That is to say, situations arise where the player can make choices that will cause the game to end in loss. Because we’re ‘in’ the world, we tacitly assume for the sake of playing the game, that it is, if not real, a kind of consistent reality. We use our imagination to fill in the gaps. When playing a role playing game, for instance, the player only has ‘freedom to fail’ (apart from turning off the game system) during combat, or at particular crisis points outside of it. Normally you are not given the freedom to fail; you are restricted, like bumpers on a bowling alley.

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I must have been 4 or 5 years old.  All I remember is a flash: a green tentacle wraps around the throat of an unsuspecting man and tightens.  The man chokes out a terrified scream.  A younger man in odd tan clothing grabs the tentacled creature and throws it to the ground.  He has a gun.  He shoots the creature until it stops moving.

On the strength of this horrible moment, I didn’t watch Doctor Who again for years.  If I even heard the unmistakable strains of the theme music floating through the house, I would demand with tears that my parents turn it off.

And yet, even then, I loved it.  I never admitted my fear to my friend James, who can truly be credited with introducing me to the show.  We went right on playing Doctor Who in the quite awesome cardboard TARDIS his father made for him.

But from that point on, our games had a different taste to them.  When I finally did come back to the show in my early teens, it was with a certain degree of wariness; at any moment something horrifying could occur.

Of course, a rather sad sort of teenage cynicism and jadedness came over me for a few years, and I would only see the cheesiness of the monsters and the cheapness of the effects.  For some reason I kept watching.

It was the theme song.  It lived in my head and my heart, and does up to this day.  What it says is the essence of the show for viewers young and old, fans of 4th, 7th, 10th, or 11th doctors:  prepare for an adventure through time and space, and prepare to be afraid.

It was during this period of viewing (spoilers ahead) that I witnessed one of the most shocking events in Doctor Who history; the death of his companion Adric, in the 5th Doctor Episode “Earthshock”.  A new reality settled in.

Characters that I knew, people that I cared about, could be in serious danger, and their survival was not guaranteed.

Life would later remind me of this lesson, but it was one for which the Doctor had prepared the ground.

I have always found intriguing post-apocalyptic worlds, because they are a very unique kind of fantasy. Specifically, during the past century they were in some way the chief fantasy; the chief myth. In the same way the ancient Chinese believed in the Golden Age, people were certain that post-apocalytia was possible and perhaps inevitable. If the nuclear weapon is one of the gods in the pantheon of the modern, then post-apocalyptia is his myth. It seems that in working hard to de-mythologize the past, we’ve succeeded only in mythologizing the future. If ‘There Will Come Soft Rains’ is not a vision of this very thing, then there is hardly cause to speak of it.

Enter Fallout. It is certain that Fallout is serious story; it’s not a comedy. But yet, at the same time, there is much that is intentionally absurd about it. And maybe this is purposeful; if you take a lot of the conventions of modern cinema, pulp fiction, television and video games seriously, what results is quite delightfully absurd.

Fallout bills itself as fantasy; which is what Post-apocalytic literature is. (There are probably some real exceptions, though.) But yet it does not have the same kind of forced feel of most modern fantasy, which tries to unironically ape Tolkein, Lewis and MacDonald. What is good among it is still good, no doubt, but it lacks the same qualities that Lord of the Rings has. At least in my day when we played D & D we did because it gave us a chance to feel like we were in a Tolkien story. (And perhaps this is why spin-offs are less successful; D&D IS Tolkien; most other settings are recycled Tolkien.)

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Man, do I love Doctor Who.  Just ask anyone, and they’ll tell you, “Man, does Chris go on about Doctor Who.”

It’s true.  There are few subjects that I go on about more often or more interminably than the eponymous Doctor and his mad, glorious, often terrifying and sometimes absurd adventures.

This has been going on since long before the return of the show to television in 2005.  The Doctor and his many companions have been a regular fixture of my life in one form or another since I was about 5 years old (that’s 26 years ago).  It therefore seems meet and right for me to address this most geeky of subjects in my first substantive essay here on Orthogeeks, since it is a cornerstone of my life as a geek, and has to a large extent informed my tastes in the sci-fi genre.

I will begin with a quick description of the show and its main character to provide context.  If you’re in need of a more in-depth description, you should head over to my friend Alan Kistler’s website, where he has written a series of excellent essays on the show.

First, a point of order.  When one is discussing the show, the Doctor is referred to as “the Doctor,” and never as “Doctor Who.”  Moving on.

The Doctor is a time-traveling alien from a society known as the Time Lords.  At press time he is 907 Earth years old.  He is a renegade/exile from his people, for reasons that are never explicitly stated.  It is implied that he disapproves of the stagnation and non-interventionist ways of the Time Lords.  At some point shortly before the beginning of the series, he stole a TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space) and ran, with his granddaughter in tow.  The TARDIS is his time machine, and on the outside it looks like an old police box, akin to a telephone booth; an outdated piece of pop iconography.  With this device he travels to points across all of time and space, battling evil geniuses and malevolent aliens, usually with a young human companion, through whose eyes the viewer is introduced to the show and its concepts.

Coming soon:  An Introduction to Terror

Power Button

It is waiting...

One day I’m hoping Chris will change his avatar from the bizarre (but hilarious) random Gravatar, but then again, maybe its fitting. (UPDATE: He did now.)

Random geekiness here; I was running through my favorite type and stock image site and I ran into these interesting (and affordable) faces: Koch’s Signs.

Looked up the book, and as it turns out it’s an interesting little volume written by a foundry-type – a typesetter by the name of Rudolph Koch. With what you can see in the Books result, you can read the first chapter (an interesting study in how simple signs can communicate complex things) and the second chapter (all about crosses.)

Looking on my computer (it was this random) I saw the power button and wondered what the intent behind the symbolism was.

With Koch’s book, you might expect that since the straight line is the power descending from above, and as from the circle, breaking through and ‘hovering over the face of the waters.’ Man, that’s some powerful imagery there in just a little button.

Then again, I saw a switch on the side of a laptop for the wireless radio – you know the little ‘radio tower’ picture on a sliding switch – and it had the same symbol above, but divided like so:

[ 0  (wireless radio)  | ]

It then occurred to me: It’s pure binary. The circle is ‘off’, or zero (Oh) and the line is ‘on’, or one. When the slider’s ‘one’ end is flush with the slot, the radio is on, if the zero end is flush, it is off.

Thus I think our little power switch is actually depicting  ‘on/off’  which is being represented by the one and zero breaking through one another. It is almost just a symbol for ’switch’.

Then again, it is cool to think that the zeroes are ’sleeping eyes of God’ and the ones are ‘power descending from on high.’ Maybe the simplicity of the symbols still communicates the essential ideas Koch is talking about in his book.

So which is correct? It’s interesting to wonder, where symbolisms intersect like this, does the more general one still apply? Or are we mistaken in applying it? Or can we not help but participate in the more general symbolism when we select an icon or logo for something?

‘Intentionalists’ would argue that I’m incorrect in relating Koch to this whole thing, but I wonder. How aren’t the general symbols influential in how we choose logos like this?

Plus – I guess when you turn on your computer its like a whole new Genesis or something. ‘And the RAM was formless and void…’

Profound(ish)!

So yeah.  Garth has gently reminded me that it’s time to man up with the strength of my convictions and contribute.  Thank you Garth.

Yes, we are Orthodox.  Yes, we are Geeks.  What of it?  Whatchoo got ta say?

It’s time (and long past time) for a voice to cry out from the wilderness; the intersection of that peculiar and awesome Venn diagram.

Garth and I are quite different from each other.  What do we have in common?  Orthodoxy and Geekdom, you might say.  But then you’d be wrong.

We’re both Orthodox, sure.  But see, Garth is a fairly recent (about two years ago) convert.  I’m the son of a priest.  The way we approach and personally practice our faith is different.  The level of enthusiasm and zeal we bring to our worship is also different.  So while we have plenty to talk about when it comes to Orthodoxy, we don’t have much common ground.  Which one of us is the more zealous, you ask?  Let me put it this way:  whatever kerygma is, it sounds gross.

Geekdom?  Again, I’ve come to notice we’re quite different.  I believe that I am more aware of current pop trends in music, games, tv, etc.  And Garth is more aware of big words.

I love you, Garth. :)

What we truly have in common is the experience of being Orthodox and Geeks at the same time, and having both of those things mean an awful lot to us.

Thinking about it in terms of ancient Christianity, I shall paraphrase:  There is neither Nerd nor Geek, there is neither Fandom nor Un-fandom.

In a multicultural, pluralistic society such as ours, Geekdom may as well be our nationality.  We self-identify as Geeks.  Those are our people.  You, gentle reader, are our people.  This concept becomes more and more true as we live more and more of our lives online or in video games or TV or movies; when our Facebook friends or favorite fictional characters are as real to us as our physical neighbors.

I’m a little older than Garth, but both of us are right on that cusp between Generation X and Digital Natives.  We both remember a time before the internet (or more properly, the advent of the web).  But when it came we were ready and willing to be explorers and appreciators.

We’ve been on BBSs (google it, like I had to google “Kerygma”).  We’ve played 8, 16, 32, and 64, when bits were an easy measurement of power.  We’ve played old gen, new gen, and next gen.  We’ve played RPG, RTS, FPS and MMO.

We’ve watched Star Trek and Star Wars, Doctor Who and Dr. No, Babylon 5 and Battlestar Galactica.  Dr. No?  Hey, I couldn’t think of another Doctor, and sometimes the phrase is everything.

We know our territory; we know our people.  But each of us has chosen to become children of Abraham by adoption, or Christ has chosen to adopt us, I should say.  Do we then stop being geeks?

No more than the original disciples stopped being Jewish, or a male stops being a male, or an Anglo-or-Afro-American has to stop being Anglo-or-Afro before he can become an American.  Which is to say that each of the things we are, or the nations to which we belong, will become adopted and co-opted, changed and made new, enlightened and made holy by Christ and His Church.

There are many things to say on the subject of the relationship between gaming, geekdom, and the Church.  But for now, I’ll close by simply saying:

Kerygma…

:) Preach it, brother.