Lately I’ve been without my primary computer since it had apparently been on its last legs for a while, and the straw that broke its back occurred while I was in the middle of playing quite possibly the most involving and emotionally compelling game I’ve played to date, “This War of Mine.” So far I have clocked close to 20 hours into this game over the course of the last couple days. While I rarely play games because I am extremely selective when it comes to what I find enjoyable, I think it’s fairly obvious there is something about this particular one which has drawn me in hook, line and sinker.
The furthest I’ve progressed so far in this harrowing “survival” simulation was making it to the 25th day out of 45 which were filled with crippling limitations, desperation, and ultimately loss. I had known about the game for some time, and I fell in love with the concept from the first moment I heard about it – but of course, living in poverty and struggling to survive day after day myself, I had to wait for the Steam sale before I could finally get a chance to play through the tragically beautiful story myself.
It wasn’t until I got to the 25th day that I realized just how much of my own life was actually reflected in the story. I know, this has happened with countless other works of art because what else, after all, is the original intended purpose of true art? However, after 2/4 “survivors” of the war in that house had been eliminated on the 25th of the in-game days, and when the last remaining survivor came home from scavenging only to find that a third had taken her own life after an entire night of feeling “broken” (which translates to being incapacitated to the point where your character can’t even lie down), I realized that exactly what had happened at this point in the game was like what happened to my previous computer when both its motherboard and power supply shorted out because it had taken all that it could, and was also more or less what had happened to me over the course of the past 24 years – that is, life had thrown as much abuse and limitations at me as it knew I could possibly handle up until I couldn’t anymore. Over the last couple years, I had arrived at a point where it became a Herculean struggle merely to wake up in the morning – let alone put myself out into the disproportionately active minefield that is my local community and country.
I recall that all of the teachers I had when I was growing up in Canada were incredibly abrasive and masculine, and I do not think they were suited to their professions in the slightest in spite of their field being the easiest to work in – which leads me to believe the majority of women in this country truly aren’t good for anything. For example, the fact that I was sent to school without any lunch by my negligent parents did not elicit the slightest concern from any of three separate teachers I had over a period of two years. Contrast this with an experience that my elder sibling had during the brief period that she spent as a child in Alabama, where the local school became concerned with our family appearing to come from poverty such that they went out of their way to provide her not only with a free meal every day, but also gave her an abundance of free clothing and toys courtesy of the local church.
Now I am not implying that the school system should be used as a way to absolve parents of any personal responsibility – but I think it just goes to show the complete lack of any kind of regard for child welfare & development in Canada, which doesn’t even have a national school lunch program compared to its supposedly more “capitalist” neighbor to the south. I think it’s no coincidence that the only adult figure I could recall in my early years who was actually very feminine, empathetic and child-oriented happened to be a woman from the southern US. It’s also no coincidence that Toronto is widely considered to be the “worst city in the world for single men” because, in the words of a MGTOW YouTuber named Sandman, “Canadian women were the meanest and most miserable people I’ve encountered in my travels abroad.”