- Witcher novelist Andrzej Sapkowski says he doesn't owe games anything, but Metro 2033 author Dmitry Glukhovsky thinks games made them both.
God fucking damn it. Why are so many old-school fantasy authors so full of shit? It isn't a strong opinion to claim there's no worth in X: it's just rhetorical bile. Sapkowski even admits he's full of shit: Oh look. It makes money for your old ass, doesn't it? Can't make rent off your precious classic of a fantasy novel alone? Boo fucking hoo. ...god damn it. I first got into a rant involving an old fuck of a writer back when I learned that George Whoeverthefuck, the one that wrote A Song of Fire and Ice, despised fanfiction. Not just was neutral to it or had a distaste for a particular reason - despised, because it's apparently "bad exercise for aspiring writers in terms of developing skills in world-building and character development". Look at my goddamn nickname. Devac might remember how I tore into that bullshit of a reason. Now there's this guy? He got rich and famous, and now he acts as if he doesn't have it good enough. "But they aren't my age!" How fucking lucky are you to attract so many young fans who'd waste their time on your sorry ass visiting your ComicCon booth, or wherever you reside? How lucky are you to inspire imagination and spark passion in the young souls? Ever tried talking to them - you know, like the human beings they are? get to know 'em? And don't even get me started on how video games make for an excellent storytelling medium. The Last of Us? Planescape: Torment? Bastion? Half-Life? So many, many more. One particular point that got me was when Sapkowski started wondering where's literature in a guy walking through woods and talking to a squirrel. Oh, but to have a humanoid wolf eat a little girl's grandmother then pretend to be her is an alright literature piece, then? How about a witch who lures young children with a house made of cookie? How a man of such poor imagination and narrow worldview got to write such a fine piece of literature is beyond me. One less old fuck to worry about. It's alright not to have interest in certain venues of entertainment. I never had interest in alcohol. Some of the people I know never wanted to solve sudokus. But then to pour buckets of dirt onto it, especially when those venues were the ones to make you what you are today? That's narcissism. There's probably even a name for when a nobody gets famous and goes haywire. I can go on, but I don't want to. Fuck this guy. Glukhovsky's my man. I gain respect for the guy just for saying "he's an arrogant motherfucker", let alone his views on creativity and art.If I don't sell the rights to an adaptation, I may not afford rent. Not to mention beer.
You know, I got into a long rant there. I then realized I'm growing neither coherent nor satisfied with what I'm doing at 2AM, when I wrote this. I retain my opinion: his arguments are mostly crap - except that copyright one, which deserves discussion and exploration. He's a cranky old man with a case of "It's a long-time scar, so it must be bad". I don't want George Martin anywhere near my works, no matter how small or insignificant they are, because I don't want to hear that what I do as a writer is unimaginative. He can think whatever he wants, as long as he keeps it to himself. Exposed to air... some things corrode and rust over, and I don't like that smell. And fuck, man, I don't want to end up as cranky when I grow old. If I knew I would, I'd rather shoot myself right now, 'cause that would be a disgrace to a capable, creative mind.
It wasn't a good argument because I wasn't arguing. I tried to, back when I was doing the long one at 2 AM. That right there, and that back there at IRC, were rants. Then you started talking about fanfiction, saying you don't like it because it's not in your taste. I replied to you about what I think was wrong with that, in a concise manner. Then you told me I'm too hung-up on... something that I brought up in a wider context of old-school writers giving youth shit about things they do. You wanna talk about what I said about Sapkowski and Glukhovsky? Alright. Let's talk about it. But bring something on the matter to the table instead of rehashing tangential topics. I don't know the extent of madness, but mere glimpses terrify me. I've seen unfiltered, childish anger from a woman twice my age and self-centered arrogance of a man who thought I only ever needed money to grow up happy. I thought all my life I was in the wrong for thinking a bad thing about someone or something, because it was all inherently my fault. Not a day goes by when I don't question even the slightest happy thought while the sound of desperation echoes at the void inside of me that I work very, very hard filling every fucking day. And now you wonder why I'd rather shoot myself than become so closed off the world that I start actually talking shit?I would prefer to ask why I have turned out like this. By knowing the cause and extent of perceived damage you can start the mending process.
It's clear that we had a misunderstanding somewhere along the conversation. The fact that I can't point where is one of the reasons I don't want to go down that road. If you could point out, in a simple and straightforward language, what you think went wrong, I would greatly appreciate it. For what it's worth, I didn't mean to be a dick, in general or towards you in particular. I've been having crummy couple of days, after suddenly losing my edge, and it rattles me enough to cause online fights with decent people. I apologize for my behavior. Wish I could say I won't do it again, but I can't promise that at the moment.