Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Cube

And Stop Gripping So Tight

Your Life, Your Choice

Baby, baby, baby! Look who’s back at it again. You’re like a sponge, baby boy (or maybe even baby girl, in which case, hello). You show up on time like a dime, every week, to absorb more of that soapy knowledge. We’re just scrubbing away the years of spiritual grime now, aren’t we?

How did last week’s homework go? I left you with a warhammer and a task: smash those psychic parasites slurping you dry. You did do your homework, right? If I were to perform a surprise inspection, I had better find parasitical guts coating that hammer of yours. I’ll take no such excuses as, “Well, I cleaned it.” No the fuck you did not. When did I gift you a spiritual rag for that?

I’m just going to assume you did as you know you ought to, but only because you’re my dearest of readers. Any of those other guys, I’m not so certain about. But I know you wouldn’t betray me. That would be betraying yourself. But more importantly, I know you wouldn’t betray me.

What you’ll have noticed is that last week’s lesson was missing something critical. This is by design, reader. I never forget things. Absolutely everything I do is one hundred percent precise and calculated, like a neurosurgeon performing a colonoscopy.

You hunted down and rooted out those nasty parasites, one by one, eliminating those unconscious choices plaguing you. Maybe not all of them, but enough that some of the holes in the castle’s defenses have been patched, and our people can walk its corridors a little more safely. This is well and good, but you should have noticed a lingering question shortly afterwards, tickling your unga bunga butthole, like dingleberries stuck in its hairs:

“What do I choose now?”

That’s a fantastic question. And like a loyal servant, you have come to your god-king for the answer:

I can’t tell you.

Truly. I cannot tell you what to choose. Only you can do that. If I were to tell you, it wouldn’t be your choice, now would it? A god-king I may be, but God I am not. That title belongs to only one man. You may know Him as the Son of Man.

Weep not, though, my faithful reader. For although I cannot tell you what to choose, I can tell you how to figure out what to choose. That’s just as good. Better even. The best part of the questline is the journey itself. If all that mattered was the goal achieved, I would never bother with foreplay. I’d race to climax and slip away like a skank into the night.

But I’m just not that kind of guy. Honest. If you don’t believe me, ask mama. She’s already got another baking in the oven.

See, even I sometimes love goals after they’ve been achieved.

Never Grip Like a Baddie

Knowing what to do is surprisingly simple. But as you’ve grown so fond of me saying, simple is not always easy.

You of all people should know this intimately. Talking to women is simple. You just walk up and talk to them. Yet, you still piss your pants and have a breakdown about your tiny wiener when the curtain parts and it comes time to perform, don’t you?

Have no fear. Not only does that become less of an issue the more parasites you smash, but also once you start choosing correctly. Choosing what exactly? The things you truly want, of course.

It’s important to understand that what you want is not what You wants. There is a little you, your self. And then there is a realer You, your Self. If you don’t know your Self yet, you might be gripping too tightly. A tight grip is what you want the baddies to have. Not so when it comes to knowing the Self. If you can define it, it’s no longer You.

Rather than squeezing like the autistic kid when you try to take away his Legos, it’s better to think of Self knowledge like water. You squeeze, you lose it. Cup it gently, you might sip a little. Even a sip will save the man dying of thirst.

The self is what the quacks would call your ego. It’s that thing you refer to as I. Like when you come crying to me.

“David, I messed up again. I finally talked to the goth baddie at the bar, and she touched me! But when she did, I messed my pants. I am such a loser. I will never have swagger.”

First off, I don’t ever want to hear these things from you again. Don’t even think them. Can you imagine what people would think if they knew I associated with people like this? Get a grip, reader. A loose one. On your Self.

More importantly, you need to understand that the self is merely your avatar in this game of life. That’s all. Everything it wants and needs is temporary.

Your Self, on the other hand, is the player. He didn’t design the game or the story, but he did create your self in the character creator. He intended to play you a certain way. Although you may have certain needs that must be met to avoid a Game Over, those are not the player’s goals. He has already decided which questlines he wants to complete and the way in which he would like to play the game.

The Black Cube has trained you to identify with the avatar. In doing so, you wander aimlessly, chasing temporary wants and needs, fighting the wiser, more skilled inputs of the player. You try to go left when he wants to go right. You want to run when he wants to fight. He tries to choose the dialogue option to get you laid, but you pick the one to prematurely cum in your pants.

The player will always make better choices than the avatar can. The player’s choices are what you want and what you need. It’s time to remember that you are also the player, not just the avatar.

Ditch the Drag, Keep the Babes

The player cannot be fully known by the avatar. The avatar can feel him and understand by way of logical deduction that he must exist, but cannot hold him in the mind.

The player is outside the game, experiencing our kingdom through the chokepoint that is the avatar. When you approach the goth baddie in the tavern, he’s there. He is you, but you forget that you are also him. This is why you panic when the dialogue options appear. She asks what she can get you. You panic and choose too quickly. If you hadn’t taken it so seriously, you may have slowed long enough to realize the option said “*Cum*”, not “Rum”. Oopsie.

Anything your lantern (your mind) illuminates exists in the game. This is true even of unused assets. Because the player is beyond the confines of the game, you can never perceive him by way of the mind.

The player is always playing, whether you realize it or not. The problem is that society trains you to ignore the one sense that allows you to perceive him: intuition. Even worse, it trains you to actively mistrust it.

Society is headed by that damnable Black Cube. He has afflicted you with the Confusion status ailment. Confusion causes your avatar to take random, moronical actions. Like attacking your own people, as that Cuck-King Systemus did. This ailment, however vexing, is curable. You simply need to retrain your self to hear your Self.

The oh-so-wise gurus out there would have you think meditation is the only vehicle by which you can accomplish this, but they fail to mention it’s not without its own pitfalls. Like flipping a switch on your lantern you’re not sure how to flip back, or making yourself shine like a fully erect beacon that attracts more succubi than even I can handle all at once. I may be a sex-god-king, but even I am subject to the male-refractory period. Besides, succubi are insatiable. You can never spill enough vril for them.

More likely, however, is that you won’t stick to a meditation practice. For the man that simply wants more swagger, it’s enough to start trusting your intuition. Your gut feelings. People today are too cerebral. Ironically, greater intelligence harms more often than helps.

As your god-king, dear reader, I understand your heart. You stew in anger over how absolute morons mount and pound life in a way you wish you could. They get the job you want. They get all the women. And they do it all with an IQ of eighty two. What are you to do?

Embrace the unga, of course. Make the bunga. Remember how your god-king does it. Me likey Asian baddies. Asian baddies me will have.

Does it sound like I had to reason my way through it? Did I have to explain or justify why I like them so much? I could list reasons, but this is all narrative flavor. I’d be explaining it after the fact, the matter of which is that I intuited I liked them. The player-me nudged me in that direction. I simply saw, conquered, and came with him.

Ask yourself, honestly, “What do I want?” Ask it without inhibition. Your player knows what’s good and bad for you better than you do. He wants to win the game, after all. When you ask, he will give you answers.

Asking is the simple part. Intuiting is where it gets hard. Some of the answers are certainly the player’s. But some are the Black Cube’s. The parasites have feelers everywhere, waiting to catch dumb cocksplats with their pants down, so they can reverse buttchug vril for their master. Every time you mistake a parasite for the player, that self-cube around you gets a little more opaque. Do this enough and reality becomes a nightmare feeding frenzy. Do the reverse, however, and the self-cube becomes more translucent. As light fills your reality, it becomes easier to see which choices are correct.

In general, you can pretty accurately gauge the want based on its suckishness. If the thought of pursuing it feels like dragging your nads over the cobblestone roads of our kingdom and the only light you can see at the end of the tunnel is a bunch of brothel babes, it’s probably not what you want. It’s much safer to say you just want the brothel babes. The Black Cube is merely trying to trick you into believing there are stipulations to having access to them.

If you’re doing something purely for a reward, you don’t want it. If you don’t want it and choose it anyway, the parasites will suck you dry. The end result is that life sucks and you likely don’t get the reward. Even if you do, you’ll find you’re still depleted.

Ditch the drag, keep the babes. The only sucking you should accept is sucking on some big juicy melons. Like me, with my peach. (Don’t worry, the baby gets his first.)

Work It To Twerk It

The man of swagger does not look for happiness on the horizon. He understands that is merely a mirage. He looks around and decides he is happy now. The kingdom doesn’t need to be the New Holy Roman Empire. He is happy with it as it is. But making it into the NHRE gives him a massive hard-on. The challenges don’t deter him. The goal is simply playing hard to get.

To have swagger is to have trust in the player. He who trusts the player loves the game.

Whenever you ask the player for something you want, he gets a notification on his screen about a potential quest. He’s either going to accept or decline it. Trust his answer. He’s closer to God than you are. He is your bridge. Cross through him into and out of the kingdom. Let him take you out on adventures and back. And when it comes time to select dialogue options, let him choose, would you now?

Big assignment for you this week. Perhaps the hardest yet. Ask what You want. If you think you know, ask to have it. Feel free to ask God directly. Cry like a baby to Him. That’s who the player takes his marching orders from anyway. Once you’ve asked to have it, decide on an action that moves you towards it. The first thing that occurs to you. The finer details will work themselves out with time.

Avoid getting all tangled in fear knots if you choose or act wrongly. As your god-king, I grant you permission to screw the squirrel. Royally. If you’ve spent your entire life listening to the Cube, you’re going to get some choices wrong. These are nothing but learning experiences. I hear premature ejaculation is very common for inexperienced boyos. I can’t say I’ve ever experienced such a thing myself, but I would never write off your experience, my friend. We will work through it.

Intuition is like a muscle. You’ve got to work it before you can twerk it. With time and enough practice, you’ll have Kegel-control like yours truly. Premature ejaculation will be a thing of the past. More importantly, your player-avatar connection will be stronger than ever. In fact, a strong enough connection is required before you can re-class into god-king. Don’t you want to be a god-king, reader?

Your answer is clear as day. As a god-king, I can hear your player, even if you can’t.

Ah, ah, no more talkie to me, reader. I need not hear your retorts. Go now from my sight. Talkie more with player. Listen to that vague notion you should go left instead of right. Call that old flame who keeps popping into your head unannounced (they always come back). Go on some fool’s quests, like the brothers. Life’s grand when you’re a fool.

Jeg elsker dig.