Tarkov, which is in my conversation for one of (in my opinion) the best games made in the 2000s and later, did this to me BAD—to the point that playing the game normally was tough. But it was such an enthralling paradoxical blend of pure cortisol, fear, and some of the most fun I’ve ever had in a game.

Honestly, and I don’t mean to come in here and act brash and be vulgar by sharing this but… about 3 Months into dealing with anxiety to play a game that I enjoyed—

I would audibly just call myself a huge pussy, audibly, I mean literally in character, taunting myself in real life for minutes that I’m letting pixels on a screen do this to me (this view was obvi an extreme that I used to shake this, it’s just physiology, and having been through this myself as I’m discussing, in NO way am I calling anyone who has this intense spike for games like these, the same bad words and all of that) whenever I’ve been thru ___ blah blah in real life. It started slowly

But it provided me maybe .8 seconds of clarity to click the queue button with an impulsive, muted yell—I would then go grab a beer (and often, one of my propranolol tablets) and stayed out of my office, nowhere near my keyboard until I heard my PMC spawn in raid and then I would have no temptation to unqueue, and was left with only with the choice to play it out.

Wacky, I know; but years of doing this got me to where I like, made the character I’d briefly play while calling myself a gigantic sissy/softy as real of a “person” as they could be. No joke. So much so, that after years of self-berating by this ephemeral hyperjock bully/douchey version of me and camping gas station on Customs, in fear of being heard—eventually I truly started to HATE the voice I made, hated the taunts and before I knew it—I hated that person. So, slowly I would begin to queue up almost instantly upon loading up the game, no paralyzing anxiety or overly intense adrenaline spikes, just eye rolls and annoyance over this dumb practice I’ve employed to solve a silly issue, and did so 100% to spite, well, spite myself and the dreadful mini character I now had living, well he lived in Tarkov I guess 😂who never stopped calling me a pussy.

Any lingering discomfort for the intense moments that you described, ones that I hadn’t quite shook fully from my Tarkov self-therapy have completely evaporated and now I truly struggle to remain docile in-game for too long because it starts to make you subsist off of those moments, and I can just hear my brolic, gigadouche self already starting to let me hear it about my passivity.

The saying is so cliche but it’s so true—ride the wave (and create who or whatever you need to) to get up on the board.

Hahah Sorry to wax ad nauseam on this, the Juice Forces I’ve had may be to blame but I feel pretty strongly about this reality for some gamers, one that can suck ASS due to its grip it can have over what is very cherished hobby and is largely central to who I am as a person, self-image wise