Back when I was younger, I tended to be very afraid and apprehensive about any kind of public speaking opportunity, no matter how big of an audience I had. It could have been as big as a crowd of people at the mall, or as small and intimate as my family at home before a meal, but it always tended to freak me out and make me nervous. The primary reason for this was the fact that I always felt that the eyes that were on me, that followed me around as I spoke, and which showed me that attention was being focused on me, were judging me, unblinking, and unwavering. The weight of those eyes on me felt like a two ton car being set upon me.
One of the reasons that I stuck around with music for a bit, at least when I was a musician and band geek in my formative years, was the fact that music, depending on where you were and what you had on hand, could always be found if you looked. Whether it was percussion on a set of buckets or a reed on a certain kind of plant or some other thing that was able to make sounds, the fact that music could be found even if instruments weren’t readily available was part of its appeal.
Some people out there aren’t too keen on games trying to teach them lessons about living life, or in some cases taking a look at life and perhaps having a bit of stark or harsh outlook on its trials and tribulations. They want games to be light-hearted, fun escapism, never really taking a chance at reflecting what might be waiting out there in the jungle of IRL. But I can’t really agree with this outlook – in part because I feel that robbing games of being able to send real messages about life is limiting the medium to what kind of power and influence it can have for good, and also in part because we need games to express those kinds of observations as a means to have games be taken seriously as medium generally.