I love science fiction RPGs, but I find combat troubling. It is hard to make combat 'fun' with bombs, guns, drones, satellites, night vision, etc. Fantasy combat allows for a sword vs dragon combat. Sci fi combat should take place long range. Also modern combat is too real. No one knows anyone who was killed by a dragon, but we all know someone who has been shot.
Lyft driver last night decided to tell me his life story. The guy was more than a bit unhinged, so I just let him talk.
Veteran, tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Starts talking about his domestic violence towards his ex-wife and children, laughing about how he had only jokingly threatened to break his children's legs, and when he stabbed his wife in the arm with a wire, it wasn't really a stabbing.
"I told the judge, if I had wanted to stab her, she'd be dead."
Complains in great detail about all the money she took from him, his prison time for the assault, and describes with glee hiding his assets in his vintage car. "New chrome, new hood, new tires - bitch wasn't gonna see that money!"
Continues on about how his new girl came from Iraq and knows what a war zone is like. Brags that he'll send her back if she doesn't marry him. Turns out he's never seen her in person, but has sent her over $7k through some online hookup site that charges per message. Goes off on how he helped her move from Canada to Chicago (we're in California), and complains about how each time he sends her money to come out west, she never shows up.
"I've bought the tux, the wedding dress - it's all ready to go - it's that or Iraq."
Note that all of this was punctuated with constant bouts of chuckling and provided completely unprompted - I said maybe three words the entire trip.
Why do I relate this story? First, it was watching bad karma in action, both the fuck around and find out phases wrapped up in a tidy taxi ride.
But I found myself wondering what he was like as a child... he was clearly struggling in the smarts department, but he had a natural friendliness that belied the horrible shit coming out of his mouth. It got me thinking to what this guy might have been like had the army not put a gun in his hand and sent him overseas to kill. He was in his forties, but his mind was that of a violent teenager - almost as if it had been frozen at the point in time when he was deployed.
I speak about this because I've seen the same pattern in other vets I've known, including some I went to high school with (1st Gulf War vets). Something gets permanently broken in them, keeping them in a state of constant angry adolescence that takes childish glee in abuse, cruelty and savagery as a way to normalize their experience.
And then they come home, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake as they try to integrate to a peacetime existence, unable to grow up, Peter Pan with a gun in hand.
I wish someone had made this clear to my friends who joined up. There's more than one of them who's too dangerous to be a friend to now.