"Doctor Holocaust is a villainous gentleman who, above all else, is trying to take over the world."

Finding my Feet

So I’ve started putting out a lot more content then usual. I normally wanted to be able to do two videos a week plus other content but I never managed to keep that schedule before with all the other villain things going on. But with the steady stream of content comes a feeling, a flavour of responsibility, that I should be picking and choosing what kind of content I put up.

Do I do shows talking about the latest political/world problems? Do I talk about science? Do I tell stories of stuff I’ve done as a villain? Give my opinion on things in general? Game videos? Answering fan mail? I don’t have the time and resources to do all of them so I feel as though I need to pick a few. But which few do I pick? I find interest in all these things. I want to do them all. But I can’t. I don’t have that many arms.

Maybe I could delegate this stuff out to other henchmen and villains. Hmmmm… That’s not a terrible idea.

Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been mulling over all the content that I’ve been putting out over the last few weeks, all the things I’ve been trying, and while I’m happy with what I’m doing I’m going to keep trying different things. I’m still finding my feet. And I’m glad you guys are sticking with me while I do this. It really is great that I have loyal enough subjects to allow for some flexibility and growth. Like, the fact that you remain patient while I try different stuff is awesome. And it makes me want to keep doing stuff until I find that thing I want to broadcast about the most.

Speaking of which. I’m going to try doing a video version of one of these blogs tomorrow and see how that goes over. I find I just convey my stories better if I just tell them myself instead of having to find the words on paper. Or rather, computer. Whatever. The point is I’m more of a speaker then I am a writer. Someone also gave me a suggestion that if I stop doing blogs then maybe I could put my game videos there. Not a bad idea. Might try that if they get enough views.

 

Anyway. The main point of this blog is that it is going to be the last one for now. I may pick them up again in the future. We’ll see. Until then, thanks for sticking with me.

The Conundrum of Pride

No man is an island. I remember hearing that in a song once. The idea, the notion, that nothing can be done alone. That no one can achieve anything without the assistance of other people. It is a simple truth that exists as much within us as humans as it does on the atomic level. But heres the funny thing. No matter how prevalent it may be, no matter how intrinsically it is woven into the very universe…

We resist.

This thought process, at first, seems natural and normal. Like, why would I not want to do things on my own? Why not strive to be strong and independent? It would be better for others to not have to carry my weight or deal with my issues, right? Well, no. We are meant to work together. In tandem. Pairs or groups. Seriously.

Think of it this way. All the clothes you have, the place you live in, the food you eat and the computer you are reading this on? Designed, manufactured, shipped and sold by other people. You pay them to give you stuff. You work together. And what about physically? Our process of propagation as a species requires two people from opposing physical genders. We cannot reproduce asexually. Even socially! Two people (like many standard couples) working through each others problems together are ultimately going to have a better time coming up with solutions, and putting those solutions into action, then both of them working alone. We seem to be designed physically and neurologically with gaps and defects that can easily be compensated for via simple interactions with another individual.

And even all the way down to the atomic level! Protons and electrons and neutrons are required to make any form of matter. Three particles, all with different charges, must be combined and work together in order to make stuff. Any stuff! Any of these particles acting alone do almost nothing. But together they make everything.

So why then do we try and push ourselves away from everyone else? Why do we try and accomplish so much alone?

Honestly? I have no idea. 

Pride is a powerful thing and it runs deeper in some then it does in others. We have this notion that maybe if we can do things alone and we don’t need help that we are somehow stronger then others. That we are better then other people if we don’t need other people. That we are weak if we need help. That if we fall in line or become a part of a larger group that we may lose our ever-precious individuality. Or maybe it’s trust? Maybe we can’t trust others to help us because we are afraid we’ll get hurt or betrayed. But everyone needs help. You needed it when you were a baby. You needed it when you made dinner today. And you’ll need it tomorrow.

I was once a victim of pride. I felt that I didn’t just have the ability to do anything on my own, but that I NEEDED to in order to prove myself. To earn my existence here. And if/when I failed that it was a bad thing. That failure in independence was somehow shameful. But I learned something very powerful over the last few years as a villain.

Firstly, that failure is a beautiful thing. It teaches us everything and because of that it is, in a small way, it’s own victory. And second, that we, like all other things in the universe, need everything else to survive. To EXSIST. Everything everywhere works together in a huge machine. There is nothing shameful about being a part of a greater whole. It is, to me, an honour to be a part of everything else and to work with others. Oxygen needs to mix with nitrogen and other gasses to make our atmosphere so we can breathe. Our moon is required to create the tides. Trees are needed to recycle our air. The tilt of the earth is needed for our seasons. Friends are needed to help us when we need help. Farmers are needed to farm our food. Builders are needed to build our homes. Doctors are needed to heal us. Heroes are needed to save us.

 

And villains are needed to challenge our systems.

 

The Power of Choice

For whatever reason, people seem to have this notion that they are not in control of their lives. At least not as much as I think they can be. And I’m not entirely sure as to why that is. Maybe some people don’t want to take responsibility for their actions or feelings? That’s certainly a strong possibility if you ask this villain.

Now, when I say “control over your life” what I really mean is “awareness of choice”. Choice is a funny thing. We want to have it right up until something embarrassing happens. Then we claim to have none. As a wise man once said “there has not existed, in all the world a slave that did not choose to be a slave. Granted, the choice is between slavery or death. But the choice remains.” The idea is we ALWAYS have a choice. Weather or not we like or even understand all the options available to us. We still have them. For example, millions of people throughout history chose death when faced with slavery. They fought and died. Or maybe they just died? No matter. Either way they are dead. Now, did they choose wrong? Some would say that it is brave and noble to die in combat or otherwise instead of becoming a slave. Some would say that it is folly to throw away your life for such a reason. To die pointlessly. The argument goes on.

Here is another example! Let’s say, hypothetically, someone killed your family. What do you do? How do you react? How do you feel? The fact that I can even ask questions in following to the hypothetical situation implies that you have choice. Maybe you hunt that person down? Let the authorities handle it? Do nothing? Do a happy dance? It really all depends on how much you like your family.

Now, this is not to say that our actions are not governed in any way by the exterior stimuli that is our environment. If someone kills your family you can choose weather or not to hunt that person down and harm them, yes, but the circumstances make it very easy to choose the harming stuff. We are still, somewhat, at the mercy of the world around us as well as our personal history. That’s right! How you react is not just influenced by your immediate surroundings, no, it is also influenced by your experiences. We could say then, by this observation, that a persons reaction to a situation could be guessed (I’m gonna say that instead of “predicted” because “predicted” sounds to precise) based on their experiences throughout their life and the situation at hand. But not just that! I have a firm belief that we also process data differently as well. That two people with the exact same experiences and environment would still make different decisions because they process data differently.

We are so like computers. We take in sensory data and other informations throughout our lives, internalize and process it, and what pops out is a probability to choose one thing over another. It’s so fascinating!

 

I am getting wildly out of hand.

 

Anyway the point is, even if you have had a bad experience with something, even if you are scared or hurt or angry or unprepared for a situation, never forget that you can choose to react differently. And in doing so you will influence the choices made by others.

My First Act as a Villain

Several years ago I made a decision that is, to this day, generally detested and wholly under appreciated.

I decided to become a super villain.

And as far as decisions go in my life I would say that this one has certainly held a great deal of weight. Not just in the way I chose to spend my hobby time but also in the small decisions that I made throughout my day to day life. This is a story that dictates the first of many of these desisions to come.

 

So I was at the bank, planning to get a rent check made up for the meagre apartment I had been dwelling in, waiting quietly in line. Now this is important. The Line is important. Or at the very least it was important to me. Lines. They are the simplest and easiest system to follow. The people that get to the location of service first get served first. It is SO EASY. But the following events both detail how much I hate people in general and the elderly in specific.

So while I’m in my glorious line, enjoying the bliss of fair order and simplicity, this old woman comes shuffling in. And not in the fun LMFAO kind of way. No. It was in such a way that dictated her age in a clear and concise fashion. She was OLD. So she shuffles in the door wearing her track suit (also, what is UP with old women and track suits?) and takes a seat off to the side. I assumed this was because she wanted to catch her breath. Getting around at her age cannot be easy and she was likely winded.

I assumed.

One of the tellers clears and asks for the next person in LINE. There is a woman, one woman, in front of me in the LINE. She is next to go see the teller. But then this old lady, this greedy little THEIF, jumps out of her seat and with OLYMPIAN SPEED rushes to the counter and cuts off the woman in front of me. She cut line.

Not on my watch. 

I stick out my head from the line. “Excuse me.” I say frustrated to the back of her head as she tries to start a transaction with the teller. She ignores me. But I am not to be ignored. “EXCUSE ME” I repeat with an authority that I only may have used once before in my life. The old woman turns to face me and makes the decision to, and I swear this was the very end of her, play dumb. “Oh. Oh is there something wrong?”

This was the last straw.

See, I think I might have actually given up on being a Super Villain at some point. I had the idea that it was something I was going to do to make the world a better place but in all eventuality I might have gotten over it and discarded it as just some kind of phase. But this old lady, this wretched excuse for a human being, changed that. She dared to use her age as a smoke screen to cut line and not take the responsibility for it. I would not allow this kind of crap to stand. Not here. Not anywhere. Not ever again.

I was FURIOUS.

I point to the teller while looking at the old woman and say “Was she processing something for you? Was that why you were sitting over there?” The old woman continues the facade of ignorance and says “No?” It’s at this point that I then point to the back of the line and say “That’s great. Because the back of the line is over there.” I can, at this point, visibly see this woman break on the inside. She tries not to lose composure and starts to shuffle to the back. I stand with self satisfaction, trying my best not to be smug. But as she shuffles past me she looks up and mumbles a comment that would be the signature on her death warrant. “Bastard”.

 

I go in for the kill.

 

I lean in REAL close to this FAKE and get face to face with her. “You know what lady? If it were up to me you’d have been ground into sausage and fed to the pigs the moment you couldn’t pull your own wretched weight.”

She goes pale as a GHOST and BOOKS it for the back of the line.

I stand up, eyes forward, and one of the tellers actually gives me a nod of appreciation. I had, on this very small scale, made the world better through villainy. By being the bad guy I had swiftly solved a problem. This was it. This was my calling.

 

And I’ve never looked back since.

Sickness Cocktail

So a ways back I attended one of my favourite conventions to date. Con-G. This convention numbers on the top two favourite conventions of the year (tying with ConBravo) but I say this as a generality. By which I mean that I love Con-G as a convention on a whole. The specific Con-G that I am talking about today was fun but ended with me in a hospital. So you can imagine that it was not my favourite day.

So the story begins when I got really excited for the convention. I was going to be meeting and filming with members of channel awesome as well as hosting a lot of fun content. And I did those things. Those were the things I did. But in getting excited I also got really nervous. And that leads to stress. And in my wonderful world of personal issues my stress (or more accurately anxiety) leads to me getting very sick. It was a common occurrence for me at the time. I would get stressed about an upcoming convention and the things I had planned and I would get very ill as a byproduct. So much so that it had become a regular thing for me. People expected me to be sick. All the damn time.

 

And boy did I deliver at this convention.

 

Another thing people know about me is that I don’t accept help easily. I can be very stubborn about letting others assist me in any way. Now I’m not sure if it’s a pride thing or if I just can’t seem to find any competent people to help me. Or maybe a mixture of the two? I just don’t think it’s of any help to me if the people that I am allowing to do work for me can’t be bothered to dress themselves in the morning. Giving myself more people to manage just feels like I’m adding more work, you know? Maybe I don’t trust them to do a good job? Maybe that’s because they don’t do a good job? Anyway. I can be stubborn about help.

I can also be stubborn about my personal limits. I have an issue with quitting. Or at least understanding where my roof is, so to speak. I overestimate myself regularly and bite off more then I can chew habitually. And as you can imagine, an innate ability to get sick when you stress out is a bad mix with stubbornness like this. It’s bad cocktail to make. Even worse to drink.

So I go to this convention. Nervous and stressed. Determined to get all this work done. Sick as a dog on the Friday. But I keep telling myself that I can do this. That I am strong enough to, at least, make it to the end of the convention and then crash.

I got pretty close.

Everything was going as expected by the end of Saturday night. I was feeling like a pile of crap that had just been set on fire and then launched into space. But I was still stable enough to move and talk and be charming to a point. I tried to go to bed and get some rest but the symptoms weren’t letting up. I just had a cold right? I could shake it off just as much as the next guy. But the cough meds weren’t working. Rest wasn’t helping. I was getting worse and worse by the moment. Something was wrong.

 

I was dying.

 

Now, one might think that to be a rather dramatic statement given the current situation. But I would later find out that I had a severe case of pneumonia in both my lungs and it was advancing fast. I got out of bed. I needed to get an ambulance. It was 6AM. I needed to get to the lobby and get a staff member to help me. Anyone. I open the door and find three people sitting there in front of me. Right in the hallway. Just having a little 6AM pow-wow outside my door. I had considered that maybe I was hallucinating. But then one of them gets up and starts talking to me. I was not in the best of shape so the first thing they asked was if I was ok. I responded that I needed to get an ambulance because I was very sick. That I had taken some cough medication and that it was not working. The man nods to me and then leans in to ask me, what I thought at the time, the most offensive question I had heard that year.

 

“Are you on cocaine?”

 

WHAT?! What the hell kind of conventions have you been going to that this even registers as a question? I look this guy straight in the eye and say “Dude. I need you to get out of my way. I need to get to the lobby.” And so he opts to help me out. He gets me into the elevator and downstairs. He helps the receptionist call an ambulance. He sits me down and when the paramedics arrive he tells them that I AM ON COCAINE. I would have shouted at him or at the very least thrown something if I could move or breathe. It was the least helpful thing. It took the paramedics the span of five seconds to see that it was not illicit drugs that was ailing me but still. Throwing them right off the path. Not cool man.

 

Anyway. Since then I have done a very good job at managing stress. It has been about a year and a half since I was in a hospital ER. But I’ll never forget that day. Or that guy. It was a very humbling experience.