I’m Not Saying It’s Demons, But It’s Demons
I have never played Baldur’s Gate, and never will. I am not a gamer guy, and that is not my world.
But the gamer world is being corrupted by the same forces that are corrupting science fiction, which is my world, and long ago corrupted the press, and the courts of law, which are also worlds of mine. So I know the spoor of the wolf in sheep garb, having seen it many a time before.
But it seems the game makers put out a recent, allegedly updated version of a game everyone in the gamer world admits is a classic.
Except the updating was not done to please the fans or make money, put to preach the same boring and abominable sermon about political correctness you heard this morning from the newspaper, from the latest legal opinion, the latest political speach, and, more likely than not these days, from the local pulpit of your nondenominational eco-friendly church, excuse me, faith group.
The sermon is that cis, white, het, males are boring and cowardly and bad and that tranny, brown, homo, fems are exciting and brave and good.
This is a quote from a reviewer on GoG:
just another vessel for SJW propaganda
Amber Scott, the writer of this game, says that the original Baldur’s Gate is sexist. Captain Corwin, a major NPC, is a single bisexual mother whose daughter calls you out for mansplaining to her. There is a transgender NPC. Etc etcIf that’s your sort of thing, then this review should be useless to you. But for people like me who don’t want to financially or morally support the ever more omnipresent liberal lunacy injected in all forms of art, perhaps you should skip this.
Apr 2, 2016
Here is a screen capture. Note the cringe-worthy yet wooden awkwardness of the prose.
Mizhena: When I was born, my parents thought me a boy and raised me as such. In time, we all came to understand I was truly a woman. I created my new name from syllables of different languages. All have special meaning to me; it is the truest reflection of who I am.
The three possible replies are (1) Thank you for sharing your story with me (2) An interesting past (3) I have to be going now.
This conversation could not go that way anywhere, real or imaginary, not in Middle Earth, or Earthsea, or Narnia, or Prydain. It is absurdly tin-eared and intrusive.
Given limits of time and screen space to display dialog, one wonders why the character development point that syllables of different languages have special meaning to a man whose family came to understand he was a woman was shoehorned in.
The responses do not include the sole response Leftists always and forever falsely accuse and insist Conservatives must always have but Muslims never do, which is to throw the deviant off a minaret while screaming bloodthirsty praises to God.
Had the writer been a corporate spy hired by a rival to ruin the game, the preening deafness to the consumers who pay the writers’ wage could not have been thicker. Here is the reply to the criticisms:
Straight White Cis people, eh?
As I was reading this, I nodded off and had a strange dream that it was 1938, and I was in Hamburg, reading a pamphlet. The writer there was fending off criticism of some sort. “I don’t like writing about Jews all the time. It is not reflective of the real Germany, and it sets up their Bolshevik Zionism as the normal baseline from which other characters must be added, and it’s boring. I consciously add as much of the Germanic Aryan Masterrace as I can to my writing, and I don’t care if people think that’s forced or fake, I find choosing to write from a Semitic untermensch default just as artificial. I am happy to be a …”
Ah, but then I woke, and I never discovered what group it was that rated the worth of people, of works of art, of everything on the basis of race-loyalty.
But the unnamed collectivist authoritarian thug-group from 1938 Germany did not only round up Jews and Gypsies, but also Non-Lutherans, the Mentally Retarded, and (ironically, considering how many a Nazi was queer) Homosexuals.
Note the parallel. The modern collectivist authoritarian thug-group of Political Correctness is not just based on race-hatred (anti-White), but also based on shared dogma (nihilism), shared mental illnesses (narcissism), and shared sexual deviations (all of them, but especially pederasty).
This last point is worth pondering. One has to wonder why the SWJ’s are so obsessed with sexual perversions, sexual deviations, and sexual disorders?
Has any of them, even once, written about the love between man and wife?
Nothing is more erotic than a husband and wife off contraception trying to make a baby. Sex is sexier when it is used for its right purpose in its right way: anything else is either sick, or boring, or weakens the men and drives the womenfolk crazy.
Women go crazy when their men are weak, and men get weak when their women are crazy.
We need each other, and we each have different jobs to do and different natures to do it with. That is the reality. That is the norm. That is what is healthy, sound, and wholesome, both fun and sublime.
So what is the obsession these days about social justice warriors desiring to praise, uphold and applaud men who are sick in the head, castrate themselves, and dress in women’s clothing?
The sad freaks are not Negroes being oppressed by Southern Democrats nor are they Jews being killed by Mohammedans. They are persons suffering from an objective disorder of the sexual passions.
Here is the answer, and you will hear it no where else. Others who know this rarely speak of it outside church walls.
Mankind is in the no-man’s land of a war between two opposing powers that can neither been seen nor heard, except in the quietest parts of the praying heart, or the dreams of visionaries.
To one side is heaven, who wishes to shower upon us infinite joy and endless life, but will not stir a feather to aid those too proud to ask for aid: love cannot compel or be compelled.
To the other side is darkest hell, a black cloud filled with clamor, uproar, wailing, screaming, shrieking, and the sounds of all torment and terror and woe. They want to hear you scream.
The sole weapon of Hell is a simple and horrible thing that makes evil look good and good look evil. Due to sin, the glory of the naked body, for example, is a matter for shame. The wonder and ecstasy of romantic love is a matter for neurosis, betrayal, selfishness, pornography, degradation, perversion.
Hell hates children because they are innocent and hates sex because it produces children. Hell likes sex when and only when it is done illegally, unhappily, selfishly, lovelessly.
Because sex is the most potent drive in the human soul and the greatest wonder and gift of heaven to man, it has been the focus of hellish perversion since Eden.
Everything which could be done to disrupt, ruin, corrupt, and mar this most glorious source of happiness has been done, from the time when Lamech took more than one wife through the heresy called Puritanism to the absurdity called the Sexual Revolution, to the ghastly horror of Feminists believing that loving and serving a man is oppression.
So the weapon of hell has been sharpened and refined to be precisely what will do the most damage to the souls of all concerned according to the psychology of all involved: the Social Justice Warrior is drunk on self-righteousness, and celebrates unspeakable perversions one cannot even discuss in front of children, and meanwhile the same social justice warrior is flung in our faces like poop flung by a monkey, to drive contempt and hatred into our hearts, so that we no longer see the damnable Morlock as human, as a child of God and beloved of Him.
Our cries of outrage make the social justice warrior feel special, hardening his heart; but if we say nothing, our already corrupt and vile society slips one more notch down the wide and easy path into the burning sewer of hell.
For Uncle Screwtape, it is a win-win.
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
