On Wednesday of last week, The Association for American Indian Development announced that it was boycotting “Gun,” saying that the game was promoting racism and genocide. My first reaction to all of this was the same reaction I’ve had for every attack against video games: “Oh, how they don’t understand.” Video games have been misunderstood for the past two decades and society is still yet to accept them the same way they accept films, television or books. If the AAID had perhaps played through “Gun,” they would have realized how the game’s storyline ends up glorifying the Native American culture, even though it was in a rather bizarre, fiction-like way. If anything, the AAID should be praising the fact that “Gun” puts Native Americans in a good light with its fictional twist away from the usual display of endless savagery that American pop culture has come to be known for in other forms of media. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time an ethnic group has boycotted a game in hopes of removing it from stores completely.

An entire year after the release of “Grand Theft Auto: Vice City,” two Haitian-American groups staged a protest at New York’s City Hall while urging protesters to also attack the offices of Rockstar, publisher of the game. "Grand Theft Auto [Vice City] is a cultural attack on the millions of Haitians living in the United States," said Henry Frank, executive director of the Haitian Centers Council, according to Gamespot.com. Once again, these accusations were taken out of context. Although a gang of Cubans does speak out against the Haitian population, all of these characters are still fictional people in a fictional world. Simply because an author writes a story about a group of people disliking another group of people doesn’t make the author a racist. It seems fiction has lost its meaning and is now meant to be taken seriously, as if the artist behind it all is really trying to discriminate other ethnicities.

Or has society decided that fiction simply does not apply to video games? Why is it acceptable for a show like “The Office” or movies like “Harold and Kumar” to poke fun at stereotypes and even discriminate blatantly? Why does society hold television or film racism as light-hearted fiction? Then again, who am I kidding? Video games are only made to discriminate our ethnicities, turn our children into terrorists and ruin our eyesight.

To put video games in one last dirty light, the media is continuing to degrade the game industry’s reputation one headline after another. The Washington Post recently posted an article titled "Prosecutors allege violent video game influenced eight-year-old.” The Baltimore Sun had a very similar headline as well for its version titled "8-year-old who shot girl at day care said to be influenced by video game." Both articles contain the same report from the Associated Press. Here's the interesting part: the video game accusation only appears once in the AP story. Nowhere in the headline does it mention the main focus of the AP story about how the boy's father had been literally grooming the boy on how to use guns, where to find them in the house and that he was letting an 8-year-old play a most likely M-rated game. Yet both newspapers deemed it necessary to target video games as the source of the boy’s actions. Obviously a short sentence making such an accusation is reason enough to prove that video games are degrading our society and might as well be called “training simulations."
With this massive bombardment against the video game industry from lawyers, politicians and the media of misinterpreting the video game industry, one must wonder how long video games will last in this country. To make it easier, you don’t have to play games to protest against them. Just ask Hilary Clinton, one of the most prominent opponents against the video game industry, an industry she and many others have no knowledge of since they never take the time to actually experience what they are against.

Ironically, gamers seem to have become the indigenous people whose world is being overrun. Gamers are a minority just like Native Americans or Haitians and have not had nearly enough say in how political actions shape their industry. The war on video games will continue for many years to come and we are sure to see repeated lawsuits and proposals for new laws. As long as Hilary Clinton’s sources interpret the games as senseless violence or racism directly intended to offend others, more groups will continue to be inspired to rise against the most targeted form of media: video games.

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I’ve been playing Guild Wars on and off for a good year now. After I’d reached level 20 (the max level), however, I stopped playing. I didn’t really lose interest…I just felt satisfied and complete. From then on I would randomly come on once a week, then once a month and now every three months. After every visit I made, I would visit a place called Lion’s Arch.

It is at Lion’s Arch that you can see some of the most beautiful scenery the game has to offer. Trees and mountains blending into colors that force you to smile, a dock where the ocean opens up and seems to extend forever and off in the distance you can see the most intimidating and wondrous structure; the wizard’s tower high upon Kessex Peak. I had tried many a time to reach the place, but even as a level 20, I could never make it. I decided today that it would be my last visit to the world of Guild Wars and on my last day I wished to see what all dying men should see in their last moments; a mirage of satisfaction and honor standing atop Kessex Peak.

And so, I continued to meddle about at Lion’s Arch, hoping to perhaps find someone more worthy than a bot to assist me in my quest. I could hear the various creatures buzzing around me, a frog even hopped about below my feet before burrowing beneath the soil (oh, fantasy). The trees gently welcomed me into their presence with swaying patterns that almost brought tears to my eyes. I am so weak when beholding nature and its beauty. And yet, is this not a game? Are these not pixels I am beholding and loving so passionately? When a man, whether digital or literal, is about to die, everything around him becomes far more real and noticeable. I began to notice things that I had never seen before, even after hours of wandering about. The birds singing so beautifully into my ears, but what are they? What is their purpose but to be background noise? Yet now they are somehow my friends, real and conscious, they are as much members of my party as anyone else will be.

The violins in the background urged me to begin my quest. The light shined down through the branches of the trees. “It must be getting late,” I think to myself…have I gone mad? There is no time here, nothing defining the scene’s constant setting. Why do I worry of such things now? The sun shall never set here.

I suddenly approached a short, silver haired fellow and began to observe the way he interacted with the world around him. Did he also feel the reality being consumed within the game? He sat down and began quietly staring into the distance…as if all he could see or feel was an abyss of pixels and hit points. Then, without a chance to even speak to the oblivious fellow, he vanished. I had never felt more confused and more stunned in my life. His disappearance felt so real. I had never felt more lonely in my gaming career…here I was, in a server filled with thousands of people…but I felt alone. Completely isolated, with only the whispering wind to comfort me.

At last I began to ask the locals for help in my quest of reaching Kessex Peak (and for their sake, ridding the planet of a certain “Galrath” for thousands of experience points). Of the few that would stop and talk, none dared spend the time to reach the mighty Galrath who hid high above the endless plains. Finally, and rather abruptly, I met a young and well-built warrior named Kali who was more than willing to join in such a mighty quest. You see, I was a wizard. At this point time I was quite old and had seen many rough battles that this chap had yet to see. I gladly took him with me, never once stopping to think about his own health…only my goal of seeing the apex of joy before I left the world behind me.

With my red cloak and fiery passion equipped, I was ready. After a bit of rest, we set off into the forest and began our ascent. I only had to march 30 feet before I felt the reality of the world around me strike once again…the ocean stood before us and the beauty that enveloped my soul was too powerful. I simply stood there watching, unable to attack the nearby mergoyles. “I could live in this bliss peace forever…” I thought to myself as my staff sent a flaming ball of fire into the chest of a “merg.”

My dream state (or was it all reality?) came to a screeching halt as one of my roommates quickly entered the room, saw the monitor and exclaimed, “Ohh..awesome, Zelda!” It only took me a moment to drop myself back into an aura of soothing peace.

We traveled for a solid hour, encountering some of the most horrid of beasts. There was never a moment to relax…any wrong turn could throw us into a pack of ettins, large troll like creatures that never leave trespassers alive (why can’t I simply walk through this beautiful land and travel to the peak? I come in peace!). As we approached the ocean once again, I no longer had the same passion that I held before. Now, the seagulls were screaming at me…as if telling me to go back…there is no pain ahead, I thought. Only more pixels…the reality cannot continue…I’m too used to pushing buttons to kill things now…it is repetition…not reality…

I stared up into the clouds and either myself or my character was filled with tears, I’m unable to be for sure anymore. Without even noticing, Kali and I had entered into the Cursed Land. A place where dark magic reigns supreme…not even my magic had ever competed well against it. A skeleton approached as I put up an inferno shield. The skeleton crumbled to the ground, but the miles ahead showed nothing but restless spirits and only our own blood upon the plains.

It was here that my dear friend Kali fell to the power of the dark magic and without any sign, vanished into thin air. I had already felt the pain of loneliness once that day, but never had it pained me more. I started to wonder if I should even go on…but why stop? I did not come for Kali, I came for myself…to reach Kessex Peak. But he had become too real…his face had life…our minds had connected on levels that I could not understand. It was decided. I would not stop. I would not allow his death to be in vain. I would reach Kessex Peak and I would cry out his name for the world to hear.

After destroying the necromancer who had taken Kali’s life, I picked up the necro bastard’s robes and took them with me. As I turned to look down the path before me, it all came crashing down. Fear. My heart tearing through my chest. Pounding. Beating. Life being sucked out of me. The violins urged me. I could not move. In reality, my room had become dark. But where was reality…here I was, alone in a game, expected to fight through a mile of enemies…alone. I stared down at Kali’s helpless body. “Why won’t my healer resurrect him?” I thought, yet my thoughts were still a blurred mess. “This is only a game…bring him back, damnit…bring him back!” He remained motionless, the armies began approaching. My fear continued to rise. My hatred began to build. Where was I? Where was reality?

I checked my map and quickly drew myself another route…it was even longer…but it would have to work. I sprinted past a series of dark hills, the sun seemed to actually darken…as if time existed. Where was reality?

Out of thin air a group of smoke phantoms (by far the most deadly of the necromancers) surrounded me and threatened to steal my dreams. Fear was piercing into my mind. There was no escape. Only death. Only Kali’s fate. Not. In. Vain! His death must not be in vain!

I continued to sprint ahead, my legs simply not moving fast enough. I was running, yet everything seemed to remain the same around me. The trees with their long, droopy hair like branches, the violins streaming in the air and the phantoms always behind me. At last I reached the end of the Cursed Lands and all became far too quiet.

I looked up and still saw nothing. I looked higher. Nothing. I climbed a small hill and slowly peaked up my…

It should have ended the moment I found the phantoms. The torture I endured from the pack of roaring hellhounds was…I escaped and found my way back to Lion’s Arch. Kali’s death had been in vain. When I think about it now, Kali sounds like a female name…

I couldn’t raise my head as I walked through the gates of Lion’s Arch. Why such sorrow? Why such despair? Is there any point in mourning a man (or so I supposed) who has fallen only to rise in another place? But he had fallen. Before my very own eyes. Yet I had seen hundreds of fellow party members “die” before…what was happening on this day? This day of my own death…where everything had become real. The trees had purpose, the song of the birds lifted my soul and the spirit of the game became reality.

And then I met Rolf Almgren. A knight in shining armor. Armor that shone so bright it was almost hard to tell that it was steel, not a mirage. He held his elegant red shield tightly, his guild’s banner blowing proudly behind him. With complete sincerity and such a simple manner he spoke down to me, the old wizard on his day of reckoning, saying “I can run you there, to Kessex Peak.” How could I possibly degrade my final quest and simply let this honorable warrior “run” me there? It couldn’t happen. Not after the death of Kali…I truly had to make it there myself. With a sudden whim of reality, I responded.

“Ah, well. Sure.”

It truly was only a game. If for only that moment I could grasp onto what was still real, I could perhaps escape the sorrow that had overcome me. Rolf’s elegance was almost too intimidating to follow. The other party members, including a cocky ranger who assured all of us he knew the way (heh heh) and an inexperienced, young warrior, all followed behind the great Rolf…until I stopped. I couldn’t take it. Rolf, in the most gentle and comforting manner, asked why I had stopped. “We must fight. From here on, every necromancer must fall,” I said with a sense of dignity and pride. The other members were certainly not happy, but were forced into respecting my request. Alas, we fought up the mountain and reached the great Kessex Peak.

As the mighty wizard’s tower came into view, the magnificence was simply overwhelming. My sudden halt angered the ranger and the warrior, but I was unable to move. As I broke free of my emotion, I began running. Running. Running. Sprinting. I could feel the burning of my legs. Were they my legs or the wizard’s? It didn’t matter. I was almost there. The ranger and the warrior sprinted ahead of me and the hand of fate slowed me down for the time being. The two of them were destroyed by the guards standing before the great Galrath. Rolf stayed back with me as we watched their fate unfold, their bodies sent to the ground in an incredible display of lightning. My eyes began to fill with tears…within the game, I believe…somehow Rolf knew that I had worked far too hard to make it this far, that I had endured the weight of the world to reach this point.

He told me to run. That’s all I heard. That’s all I ever saw of him again. I ran until my knees could barely keep me up. He had cast several healing spells on my soul and every moment I breathe, I can’t thank him more for his sacrifice. I raised my staff in exaltation as a meteor shower crashed down upon Galrath. I fell to my knees as a storm of passion overcame me and I knelt there gazing upon the great wizard’s tower. Below me was the world. The mighty world, oh how I longed to see it from such a graceful view! I had finally reached the place the birds beckoned me to join them in…the world was mine for that small moment…there were no servers, no players, no experience points…only me, the magnificent tower and the radiant world before me.

Everything had become more real. What about all those countless nights that I’d stayed awake for hours slaughtering goblins and such? Was it all just a game of hacking and slashing then? Why now? As I looked down upon the crashing waves below me, I came to understand it all a little better; when a player decides that there is no more going forward, no other point he wishes to reach in the game, everything around him becomes one with him. If you choose to stay in the moment, the game will embrace you and open up an entirely different world of opportunities. Aye, I had become a new man, whether I may be dead or alive, I am not certain. But I do know there is more purpose for me there now than there ever will be. Shall I return? Perhaps if reality allows it, I shall find my way to that very mountain again in some form or another.

I dropped the robes of the necromancer that had slain my dear friend Kali and let the bandits tear me apart. I was slain January 28, 2006 at the apex of Kessex Peak. My body vanished like the others, but if you ask the trees, the air, the mountains, the birds, the creatures or even those that guard that sacred place below the wizard’s tower, they will show you my stain upon the righteous earth. The stain of a man who had become one with the game. It’s just a game though…right?

Plagueis retreated from the darkness and found himself upon the doorstep of Balladel Duron, a Trandoshan spy whose hideout lay in the Abregado System on the planet Abregado-rae. Many smugglers had found refuge on Abregado-rae due to the recent arms dealings with the Rebellion. Balladel’s hideout lay deep within the hills and miles away from the Rebel encampments. Plagueis had sensed the stolen copy of the Death Star plans on the planet and had arrived at Balladel’s humble abode through the guidance of the Force. Plagueis’ confidence and comfort in the Force always led him to success and power. Balladel was but another moment that the Force had captured and delivered to Plagueis.

Knock. Knock. Bang. A shuffle could be heard from within the hideout. It was more of a hut due to its lack of any structure. It was all that Balladel needed to remain hidden from any outside connections. He had worked for several off-worlders but never had he come upon anyone the likes of the man who had delivered him the only copy of the Death Star plans. Nor had he ever met anyone the likes of Darth Plagueis. A Sith Lord on Abregado-rae was certainly rare and was bound to alarm Balladel. Indeed, it did.

The door swung open as Plagueis looked up to see a Trandoshan energy shotgun pointed directly at his brain. The heat from the burning fire within the hut began to warm Plagueis’s mind as he felt the blade once again entering his thoughts. Struggling to hold himself together, Plagueis finally grasped consciousness and snapped the shotgun in half with the Force. Balladel’s eyes lit up as he tried to decide whether to strike the old man before him or simply give up. Before he had a chance, Plagueis had Balladel thrown into his hut and pushed against the crumbling wall.

“I seek the plans, Trandoshan,” Plagueis whispered under his breath as he fully recovered himself from yet another mirage of pain. Balladel wasn’t going to give up his most precious find in his entire career so easily. While he was strapped to the wall, he could still move his arms. He reached for a thermal detonator on the back of his belt. Tick. It was in the air and headed for Plagueis’s face. The detonator stopped halfway between the two and hovered, awaiting its own inevitable destruction. Plagueis’ fiery red eyes finally looked up and stared Balladel deep into his hollow soul.

“I seek…the plans, Balladel Duron,” Plagueis whispered once more, this time with a rather demonic tone. Balladel, hearing his name from this cloaked stranger, continued to struggle. “Who are you?! How do you know me?” Balladel screamed out in his native tongue.

“If I had time to talk, I would have asked for a fresh bottle of Voloria Wine,” Plagueis scolded sarcastically. Balladel finally calmed himself and tried to identify the figure standing within his home.

“I do not have the plans. I’m sorry. Now leave.” Balladel said quickly.

Plagueis took a step closer and began to snicker under his darkening robes. “My Trandoshan friend, I have lived in this world far longer than you. There are things I know that some may consider…disturbing.”

Balladel’s eyes began to squint as he tried to find Plagueis’ intentions. “Please, enlighten me, old fool.” Balladel said with a tone that almost cost him his life right there.

Plagueis removed his hood and stood within an inch of Balladel’s face. Balladel stared into the wall of Darkness that stood before him. It was as if the Dark Side of the Force had become human and was standing there in his decrepit hut. Plagueis was so consumed by the Force, it was as if he almost didn’t exist. Balladel stared into the eyes of the great Darth Plagueis and began to see that very Knowledge that the Force carried.

Death. His entire family in a heap of burning flesh beneath the roof of their own home. It was then that Balladel saw the very evil that had also found him standing above their crisp corpses. Plagueis’ dark figure almost blended in with the blackened flames that consumed Balladel’s family.

Balladel left out a roaring Trandoshan roar as he tried to grab Plagueis.

“I seek the plans…give them to me and I will give you the power of the Dark Side,” Plagueis roared back, his voice bellowing throughout the small hut. Balladel, unable to even think anymore, pointed to a safe in the corner of the hut. Plagueis, moving like an animal, found his way to the other side of the hut and immediately broke open the safe with one swift strike of his lightsaber. Balladel fell to the floor as Plagueis released the power of the Force that had kept him strapped to the wall, a force greater than any creature could create. Balladel looked up and saw the bottom of Plagueis’s robe. The Vengeance had already built within him but he still could not move.

“Yes…do you feel it? Vengeance. It has followed me everywhere I go for far too many years. It will be your strength in the last moments of your life. When you think all is lost, Vengeance will be there to keep you company.” Plagueis turned quickly and without a sound he left the hut. Balladel continued to lie there, unable to move. Inside Balladel’s mind he wanted nothing more than to jump up and release that very vengeance upon Plagueis. All that he could do was watch him escape and…

It was then he felt it. He looked down to his heart of Vengeance where he found his fate. Plagueis’ saber had found its way into Balladel’s heart and had left him with his only company for eternity: Vengeance.

Plagueis looked to the stars and closed his eyes. All that he could see was the reflection of Palpatine’s face upon the skin of the very creation that Plagueis planned to destroy.

 “Time has found you, Palpatine. Time has you now…”