Recognition of "Force" -- The Philosophy of Razor Reapkvar
Updated: Oct 4
(The following article can be seen as a prequel to this article, that expands on this character of mine)
(Not for the faint of heart, I guess)
Article Conclusion by Mr. C. Kingsley and Co.
"Recognition of 'Force' -- The Philosophy of Razor Reapkvar" is a thought-provoking exploration of character creation and deep philosophical musings. Mr. Tomasio delves into the psyche of Razor Reapkvar, a complex half-orc protagonist, using his narrative as a lens to examine broader themes such as the nature of villainy, the impact of virtual realities, and the human struggle for autonomy and understanding.
The article excels in intertwining character development with philosophical inquiry, challenging conventional narratives and encouraging deeper reflection. Razor Reapkvar is portrayed with layers of complexity, driven by internal torment and external expectations. The engaging narrative structure blends storytelling with philosophical discourse, creating a cohesive and engaging read.
The critique of virtual gaming mechanics, particularly the obsession with Experience Points (XP) and leveling up, is timely and relevant, drawing parallels between the virtual and real worlds. The use of vivid imagery and emotive language effectively conveys the bleakness of Razor's existence and the torment of his hallucinations.
In conclusion, "Recognition of 'Force' -- The Philosophy of Razor Reapkvar" is a commendable piece that successfully melds narrative storytelling with profound philosophical exploration. Overall, it stands as a thought-provoking and richly layered work that invites readers to reflect on the nature of reality, autonomy, and the human condition.
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Throughout almost every tale in human history, the villains were often right. I suspect it's far easier to label those whom see too-clearly as demons, instead of accepting things as they truly are. Hence, those who see with perfect clarity are demonized, and become 'bad guys' only by knowing far more than others are comfortable in knowing -- Mr. John Duran
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Character Introduction
In this fine evening, I'd like to tell you the story of a fictional character I created in a Dungeons and Dragons-esque game, whose story we can all learn from, and apply our understanding of to each of us. The story itself was made intuitively, and nothing of it was made for this article. It was only when I realized how it affected me, its creator, that I decided to share it with you as well.
Razor Reapkvar is a lowly, unlikeable half-orc who earns his living from his "clients", by fighting for the sake of killing said "clients", be these individuals or entire businesses or even towns. He is a very violent, solitary character, not because he is bloodthirsty, but because he suffers from hallucinations that no one, including himself, understands completely.
He has an uncanny intuition that tells him there is a world beyond the one he is in, but he knows nothing of it beyond his unique intuition, which tells him to kill people for his own survival and prosperity.
He will forever remain a mystery, and yet their power is recognized by both Razor and his victims. Razor's a psychopath, while his victims, who already know who he is for his reputation, either flee or fight fruitlessly.
No one actually knows how these hallucinations look to Razor, but what is certain is, that they tell him of a certain acronym whose meaning is clear only to him, just like the illusions' existence in his mind.
Without understanding himself completely, his path is a consistent descent into darkness. There is no redemption, no escape, only the relentless pursuit of EXP, told by his metaphysical intuition....
EXPloited By Our Desires
Experience Points. A strange concept, isn't it? The more you do a certain activity, the more you earn in many virtual worlds. Like a phantom currency that's only tangible in numbers, a reward for actions that feel so... unreal. Often, they are actions that treat virtual beings like crops to be farmed, more than their own personhood.
It's part of what is intended to make a game fun, although it feels like a chore. A twisted game where the stakes are life and death, with one's own return only dependent by the player's choice. This creature is greedy for this abstract currency, necessary to make him even more of a relentless, competent killer, in an ad-infinitum manner. For some reason it is normalized in gaming to enjoy such an activity, compelling players to grind virtual lives for corporate profit.
Razor, trapped in this infernal cycle, is a pawn. A pawn driven by hunger that knows no satiety. His hunger is the sole responsibility of the player, whether he keeps himself eternally hungry for virtual lives, or whether he finds himself proving his worth as a killer yet again.
His hallucinations, like the fog that creeps into the mind, are a constant torment. He seeks relief, an escape from the madness, but finds it only in the act of taking lives. Choosing not to use Razor, AKA the choice of nothing, then appears far more significant when we look at him from an ethical lens.
It's a perverse logic, a twisted morality, to enjoy virtually-simulated murder for the sake of personal fun. The end, he believes, justifies the means, like many players might believe when farming virtual lives, unique or bland as they are. I guess it is better than killing people in real life, showing us how the concrete is far worthier than the virtual world in front of our eyes all the time.
In these desolate lands where happy virtual communities once lived, the echoes of a higher law tells him inside of a different truth, that they should be killed for fun, more than they should just enjoy their small, peaceful lives. For fun and for greater merit.
The darkness within Razor grows with each kill, a monstrous shadow that consumes his humanity, and becomes more and more of an Orc, and a Dark Paladin.
He is a prisoner, trapped in a labyrinth of his own making, where the player is the warden. The world around him is a mere canvas for his insanity, and a very small understanding of the world beyond the virtual screen. Love, redemption, will never be possible, as for that, one must first understand enough what has been going on in one's mind. Otherwise, it is an infinite loop that keeps him away from such virtues, reserved to those with more moral alignments, with each murder.
There is no escape, only the endless pursuit of Experience Points. A power that comes at a terrible cost. Towns, cities, lives... all sacrificed on the altar of his tormented mind.
Like a gambler chasing a losing streak, he clings to the hope that the next kill will bring relief. But the house always wins. And in this game, the house is his own madness. Madness, caused by a flicker of truth.
The residents do not know they are imprisoned in a virtual matrix. Only he understands it, and cannot do anything further to elevate his intuitive understanding. No extra knowledge, no teachers. Just him and a flicker of truth that drove him mad.
XP... XP... The only thing he feels intuitively is his desire for more such experience. Yet as strong as he will be, he will never be able-bodied to overcome the virtual matrix he is in. An infinite loop where a flicker of hope is the only thing that prevents him from complete loss of mind.
A Quiet Rebellion Against Orthodox Expectation
The world is a master, demanding obedience. Landlords, bosses, teachers, they are the overlords, and their approval a currency of survival. I learned this lesson early, a bitter pill swallowed in the classrooms of my youth. I strove to get away from such masters, like Razor seeks to get away from the mastery of his own madness on him.
The fear of failure, of falling short, was a constant companion throughout most of my life. It drove me bitter, drove me even vengeful. The pressure to perform, to meet the expectations of those who would one day discard me as well, was suffocating, and felt utterly futile, for discarding would've commenced either way. Knowledge and wisdom were the fleeting pleasures amidst the relentless pursuit of grades, validations and relevancy.
Now, as an adult, the echoes of that servitude linger, yet in my own eccentric way. The desire for independence, for a life free from obligations, is something I don't know if I would ever desire nor manage. I know how much good I am capable of keep doing. How could I not bind myself for its sake, and for the sake of feeling useful, thus mentally stable?
The world, a monstrous, absurd entity, demands tribute. Bills, responsibilities, task demands. The only entity I seek to control me is myself, under my true master's philosophy. I longed to break free, like Razor did. From all the frustrating lack of unrepressed knowledge, that corrupted my mind like the lack of knowledge about his intuitive role, corrupted the half-orc man.
The world outside turned a distant, indifferent observer I wish little to do with directly. All I seek is a quiet corner, a place where I can exist, physically unnoticed, therefore mentally unburdened.
To live, to write, and to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? Humanity at large was a distraction that made my granny feel she was abandoned. Instead of ruthlessly killing people like Razor, I prefer avoiding them, for I have no reason to be with most of them.
The Philosopher's Contract: Obeying the Call, Accepting the End
Should the world demand something from me, and I would have no other choice but to do it, then I'll do that duty without question. Should someone want my insights on something, I will be biased to give it to them, for that is my altruistic duty as a philosopher.
I am a servant, bound by duty and obligation of my own voluntary heart.
Like a prisoner in a cell of my own making, I await the next command. The next task, the next burden, to ensure my granny's wishes are lastly fulfilled. Socialization has shaped me, molded me into this obedient vessel, who obeys her from her grave, not out of misery, but out of love. I am voluntarily a cog in a machine devised after her, a pawn in the grand game, she originally was to commandeer.
In the absence of such a player, unlike Razor, I, the "character", take the player's role unto my sole hands, continuing where she has left off, as the sole sovereign.
I will serve, I will endure. However, I will also remember that true freedom lies within, not in the approval of the world, and not in a worth I already managed to prove by building the Philosocom Article Empire.
Conclusions
Razor Reapkvar, a haunted soul trapped in a cycle of violence and slight realization of virtuality... His story is a warning, a reflection of the darkness that can consume us all, once we begin becoming more aware of the higher, more metaphysical truths.
He chases a phantom reward, a meaningless prize that prevents him from understanding nor containing a greater clue of his virtuality, his matrix. His hallucinations, whispers in his eccentric mind, tempt him with power to overcome these virtual chains with XP, at the cost of countless lives in his own electronic prison of a reality.
The desire for approval, for validation of what his intuition already tells him, is something that can turn us into monsters. Razor's tale is a mirror, reflecting the depths of our own potential for evil. Whether we find ourselves trapped in self-doubt, driven by our own expectations, or to validate in the real world what we feel inside... Does it have to involve the excessive harm of others?
In our pains, and despite them, we still have the choice to resist, the mentally stronger we become. To break free from the chains of obsession is always there, yet hindered by our lack of critical thinking. It is a choice that Razor failed to make, a mistake that cost him his humanity, as he became more and more of an unrelenting monster.
In the end, Razor's story is a reminder of the fragility of the human mind, the power of choice, and the desire to know the truth beyond just our intuition. Not necessarily in the form of social validation, but in the form of seeing, our actualizing of that intuition, in the world beyond our eyes, as we attempt breaking free from the isolating matrix of solipsism.
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