It’s no secret that I love Chinese food. I may be biased due to my heritage, but Chinese cooking and cuisines, backed by thousands of years of culture, has always held some kind of strange attraction for me. Combinations of fire, sharp implements, and displays of techniques and skill naturally appealed to me, and being raised largely in HK by my grandmother – a tough old bird who brought up four kids by herself off the back of a noodle cart after the death of her husband – only compounded the effect.
I hate the word ‘gamer’.
I do this not because of the multitude of unsavoury associations the word brings, but it merely states that to participate in a medium is to give yourself a title, to set yourself apart. This nebulous group is near-impossible to define; by its broadest definition (people who play games), it proves to be more divisive than inclusive in a manner not unlike children picking teams on the local schoolyard – only people the group has through a rigorous hazing process or social groupthink deemed worthy are granted the label.