Hey y'all! Name's Alex Chibante, but my friends call me "Chewie" ( Lame story). If I were to tell you about myself and my personality it would be biased. How you perceive me, for all intents and purposes, is who I am.
I like most games.
Currently a student at the University of New Brunswick
Demon's Souls has been out for a good week or so, and I have thoroughly enjoyed playing it. Apart from the challenging game play, memorable boss fights, and essential ( but fun) grinding one things stuck out for me. The Crestfallen Warrior. The following will contain "minor" spoilers regarding said character, so if you care about this character as much as I do stop reading now.
Most of those who have played this game probably remember the Crestfallen Warrior as the first person they meet in the Nexus, and would characterize him as a patronizing, depressed, failure who's only purpose is to discourage you. However, I say that all those that think this should be ashamed. They belittle this poor man's efforts, and everything he represents. To me he is probably the most important influential NPC you'll meet in this game.
As I mentioned before there is a lot more to this man than what his words reveal, He is essentially " What Could Have Been". The Crestfallen Warrior was a man just like any one of us, but suddenly the responsibility of being a hero was thrust upon him. He probably fought, and he probably fought well, but something happened to him that made him just want to give up. Something horrific that completely shattered his will. This could be his "death", and the loss of his body. Whether or not he truly lost his body, or just forgot where it was is irrelevant. Imagine the trauma. Being forced to continue this mission that he probably didn't even want to do even after his body is lost. Being forced to fight for cause, as noble as it may be, even after you die. Bound to this fate like a slave, forever tolling away, hoping someday you can taste freedom, but he knew he would never taste freedom. Such a realization would break most will, and it did just that. He gave up, fell from grace, and became a shell of the man he once was. Then to add insult to injury, he is quickly replaced by the character. Of course this poor character is going to be rude an morose.
He also serves to motivate us. Motivate us to never give up and let doubt or anguish consume us. He shows us how important a little thing like hope can be.
He may be weary, but he won't take getting attacked lightly. He can take quite a few hits.
This downtrodden warrior of light served as a mentor, and an ally. Through out my journey I found comfort in speaking with the man I had replaced. Never did he show jealousy ( perhaps he was too caught up in his own emotional torment), and I always found myself eager to return to the Nexus to hear his next comment. Then it began. First he began to go on and on about his body, and how it was probably long gone. Then he began forget. Everything. I desperately searched for his body, but eventually I returned to find nothing but the soul of a storied soldier. He had killed himself to spare himself, and us, from the demon which would undoubtedly consume him. I grasped his soul and brought into the air, releasing him from his torment. Though I never knew his name, I called him friend.
For those of you who don't know french, today's title translates to Beard of Poverty. You may be asking yourself, " Why such a melancholy title?". I find myself asking this too. It turns out there was more to the saga that is my beard. What was supposed to be story of victory has thus far ended in defeat. I haven't given up, though, I haven't given. Still I fight so that one day my whiskered brethren, and I can have equality. Still I fight for acceptance. Prepare to cry, because it's about to get all kinds of depressing up in here.
First picture I got when I searched hobo. Isn't that beard glorious?
As you know I have come to terms with my new beard repulsing the ladies, and ,now the my beard is growing past the "Hollywood" look, it has done that to a certain extent. However to my surprise I was confronted by a young lady who ran a sort of host club near the campus. For those of you who don't know, a host club is a common form of night time entertainment in the lands of the Far East, an idea just arriving to the shores of North America. Customers ( male or female) will come and ask for a host or hostess, respectively Once seated with their host they will go on a sort of pseudo date. The host or hostess provides charm, attention, and possibly affection. Anyways, the young lady had been working in this club going on for a couple years now, but failed to have any male hosts. Her boss, a bizarre old women, ordered her to find some men that would be interested. Thus, for a reason I'm still not sure of, she approached me with the job offer. The pay was meager, but 30% of any purchase made by the customer would go into my pay check as some sort of glorified tip. Although I was probably a last resort choice, I accepted. The next day I was to report to the club for a quick interview, and a brief run-down of my responsibilities.
Look at all those beautiful men... Strange how none have a beard, eh?
I was ecstatic. Someone had thought that I as worthy of a job dependent on looks even though I was sporting a soon-to-be glorious man-beard. That evening I put on my best shirt, and favorite pair of shiny shoes. I was looking like a star, with a beard mind you. I left for the club, with a hop in my step and a twinkle in my eye. As I swung open the doors I entered a place of wonderment. There were roughly 5-6 girls treating men who either weren't the best looking people, or suffered from severe social disorders to drinks, and making them feel loved. " This is perfect for me", I thought, " I get to make people happy". Anyways, I was called to the office for my interview. I was somewhat nervous at this point, but to my joy everything went smoothly. The owner found my up-beat attitude and love for most things refreshing. The job was mine. At least it should have been. As I was shown out the door I heard her make a quick comment to me. A comment that completely killed the buzz. I could still hear it ringing in my head.
" Make sure you shave before you come to work tomorrow"
That makes me feel better
Turns out I was beautiful, but my beard wasn't. Once again I was upstaged by this mysterious thing called beauty. I began to think about this idea of beauty, and wonder if it plagued all the bearded men in history. So I did some research, which took me to the classical period in Greece, where art began to pursue this idea of beauty. The paintings and sculptures created during antiquity were exemplified by the search of this " Ideal", which was most commonly portrayed through the kouros, to my dismay. The kouros are any and all statues of young men. These were meant to be the best of men, both physically and characteristically. One thing the all had in common; no beards. Of all the pictures I saw, not single on of the "ideal young men" had any sign of facial hair. I tried to rationalize, saying that maybe these men were too young to grow facial hair. That wasn't he case. These statues depicted men from the ages of 16-20, and unless you have an extra X chromosome, you're gonna be growing some fuzz.
I'm as sad as that kid
Turns out that I was wrong before. Beards were never beautiful. They never were considered "pretty". Within this cesspool of depression I did find a glimmer of hope, and that glimmer is what kept me from putting a blade to my chin and giving up. These same Greek artists who portrayed these "ideal" men as beardless, also portrayed their Gods with nice long beards! Gods the respected! Gods they loved! Gods they worshiped! Once again I came to terms with the fact that I wouldn't thought of as beautiful, but now I can look forward to the dignity and aura of respect that comes with my beard. To everyone growing a beard, don't give up! We may not be gorgeous, but God dammit we are MEN! ... Also we can look like some sort of Godly high level wizard now! Thuper Exciting!!!!
Those are my cats. They have no relevance to this, but they sure do catch the eye. NVGR
I'll start this off by asking you all a question. Do you remember a time when a man was allowed to be a man? Back in the good ol' days before most of us were born, a beard represented something. It showed that you were a man, it showed you were to be repsected, and , if flamboyant enough, it showed that you were powerful. Nowadays the glorious chin whiskers that meant so much are now frowned upon by most and repulse even more. With that, you may be asking why I mention the past glory of the man-beard. Well, sit down as I regale you with my tale.
At the beginning of this past summer I learned that I would be leaving the city of Houston for college in Canada. I've lived in Houston for 17 years, so this was bound to be a huge change. In order to commemorate this change, and as a physical manifestation of my passage into man hood, I decided that I would grow a beard. My mother, who is a avid supporter of my " pretty boy" look, was naturally against my new life style. " No, it will look horrible", she'd say, " You'll look like a beautiful homeless man". She tried and tried, but I persevered. I wasn't go to live in her world for fear. Shortly after that conversation I left home, and begun my trip up to Canada.
After my exceptionally uneventful trip, my young beardling was taking somewhat of a form. Granted it was nowhere near long enough, but I definitely had that " Movie Star" cropped beard look going on for me. So here I was, in Canada, looking like pretentious Hollywood wannabe, and in a brand new environment. My beardling made me distinguished, and was surprisingly turning a few heads. I was never good with the ladies, but the jolly feel of Canada and the freedom that came with facial hair gave me a sort of boost to charisma. I was making friends left and right, even getting a date with a decently attractive girl. The relationship ended rather quickly though. On our first "date", if you could call it that, I brought up the fact that I was growing a full beard. She didn't take to kindly to it. She said that I looked much better with it shorter. I ended it.
What an a-hole......
So at this I had lost the support of my mother and , as expected, was doomed to live a life sans female. However, my will was strong. Soon I discovered a new friend in my Biology Lab Partner. We'll call him Thomas for reference sake. Anyways Thomas is a first year student who is originally from Ohio. Thus we had the grace of being raised in America in common. What made Thomas special was that he sported a rather fetching beard, and was still growing it. Furthermore, he revealed that he had a special lady friend back in Ohio who actually requested he grow the beard. Just then, when my hopes of a bearded society were dim, I felt the warm light of hope overtook me. He was truly a free man. His family couldn't care less about his beard ( My mom is probably just insane), AND he had a significant relationship with a girl. No, not a girl. A woman! My epiphany led me to only one conclusion. The beard disappeared from our lives because of girls. Girls and their need to have gorgeous well groomed men. So I have a message to all the girls out there with boyfriends, boy toys, or significant guy buddies, and that message is this: Stop being girls, and start being women. I used to fit into your tight pant, almost girl arch type, but no more. I have chosen that . As a women you'll realize that your man having a beard is more than an excuse to not buy razors. It means that he is free! It means that he demands respect! And above all else; It means that he his truly worthy of the title Man. Also, He can look like a really High level Wizard!!!!!!!!!