Solidarity Gaming Quotes

The problem is politics is made a sport, almost as much a sport as football or baseball. When it comes to politics, adults and politicians do more finger-pointing and play more games than children ever do. Too often are we rooting for the pride of a team rather than the good of the nation.

Friendship means never having to be alone, it means there's a constant wall of solidarity even when everything else is crumbling around you. If he's the crumble in your life, then I'll be the damn wall!

It’s loneliness. Even though I’m surrounded by loved ones who care about me and want only the best, it’s possible they try to help only because they feel the same thing—loneliness—and why, in a gesture of solidarity, you’ll find the phrase “I am useful, even if alone” carved in stone. Though the brain says all is well, the soul is lost, confused, doesn’t know why life is being unfair to it. But we still wake up in the morning and take care of our children, our husband, our lover, our boss, our employees, our students, those dozens of people who make an ordinary day come to life. And we often have a smile on our face and a word of encouragement, because no one can explain their loneliness to others, especially when we are always in good company. But this loneliness exists and eats away at the best parts of us because we must use all our energy to appear happy, even though we will never be able to deceive ourselves. But we insist, every morning, on showing only the rose that blooms, and keep the thorny stem that hurts us and makes us bleed hidden within. Even knowing that everyone, at some point, has felt completely and utterly alone, it is humiliating to say, “I’m lonely, I need company. I need to kill this monster that everyone thinks is as imaginary as a fairy-tale dragon, but isn’t.” But it isn’t. I wait for a pure and virtuous knight, in all his glory, to come defeat it and push it into the abyss for good, but that knight never comes. Yet we cannot lose hope. We start doing things we don’t usually do, daring to go beyond what is fair and necessary. The thorns inside us will grow larger and more overwhelming, yet we cannot give up halfway. Everyone is looking to see the final outcome, as though life were a huge game of chess. We pretend it doesn’t matter whether we win or lose, the important thing is to compete. We root for our true feelings to stay opaque and hidden, but then … … instead of looking for companionship, we isolate ourselves even more in order to lick our wounds in silence. Or we go out for dinner or lunch with people who have nothing to do with our lives and spend the whole time talking about things that are of no importance. We even manage to distract ourselves for a while with drink and celebration, but the dragon lives on until the people who are close to us see that something is wrong and begin to blame themselves for not making us happy. They ask what the problem is. We say that everything is fine, but it’s not … Everything is awful. Please, leave me alone, because I have no more tears to cry or heart left to suffer. All I have is insomnia, emptiness, and apathy, and, if you just ask yourselves, you’re feeling the same thing. But they insist that this is just a rough patch or depression because they are afraid to use the real and damning word: loneliness. Meanwhile, we continue to relentlessly pursue the only thing that would make us happy: the knight in shining armor who will slay the dragon, pick the rose, and clip the thorns. Many claim that life is unfair. Others are happy because they believe that this is exactly what we deserve: loneliness, unhappiness. Because we have everything and they don’t. But one day those who are blind begin to see. Those who are sad are comforted. Those who suffer are saved. The knight arrives to rescue us, and life is vindicated once again. Still, you have to lie and cheat, because this time the circumstances are different. Who hasn’t felt the urge to drop everything and go in search of their dream? A dream is always risky, for there is a price to pay. That price is death by stoning in some countries, and in others it could be social ostracism or indifference. But there is always a price to pay. You keep lying and people pretend they still believe, but secretly they are jealous, make comments behind your back, say you’re the very worst, most threatening thing there is. You are not an adulterous man, tolerated and often even admired, but an adulterous woman, one who is ...

The mockingjay trend holds a powerful message of political solidarity. The public tells Kat, "We're behind you. We believe in you. We're ready to follow, and continue what you started.

From a policy perspective, the Democratic Party faced a dilemma that it could not solve: finding ways to maintain support within the white blue-collar base that came of age during the New Deal and World War II era, while at the same time servicing the pressing demands for racial and gender equity arising from the sixties. Both had to be achieved in the midst of two massive oil shocks, record inflation and unemployment, and a business community retooling to assert greater control over the political process. Placing affirmative action onto a world of declining occupational opportunity risked a zero-sum game: a post-scarcity politics without post-scarcity conditions. Despite the many forms of solidarity evident in the discontent in the factories, mines, and mills, without a shared economic vision to hold things together, issues like busing forced black and white residents to square off in what columnist Jimmy Breslin called “a Battle Royal” between “two groups of people who are poor and doomed and who have been thrown in the ring with each other.”10

By sacrificing the public self, by shunning leaders, and especially by refusing to play the game of self-promotion, Anonymous ensures mystery; this in itself is a radical political act, given a social order based on ubiquitous monitoring and the celebration of runaway individualism and selfishness. Anonymous's iconography — masks and headless suits — visually displays the importance of opacity. The collective may not be the hive it often purports and is purported to be — and it may be marked by internal strife — but Anonymous still manages to leave us with a striking vision of solidarity — e pluribus unum.

If this simulated flourishing were restricted to the world of leisure—cruises and games—at least we would know that it was not the real world. But the reward structure of video games—the simulated authority and vulnerability of virtual reality—is increasingly colonizing our interactions with the most serious matters of the real world as well. Like technologically mediated entertainment, the technology of social media is becoming more “gamified” by the year as developers learn how to tap into the deep human hunger for simulations of authority and vulnerability. In social media, you can engage in nearly friction-free experiences of activism, expressing enthusiasm, solidarity or outrage (all powerful sensations of authority) for your chosen cause with the click of a few buttons.

But the opposite of libertarian hyperindividualism is not necessarily the Red Army kicking in the door of your father’s drugstore. It could also be a sense of social solidarity, an ethic of “We’re all in this together.” As Pope Francis said, after a closed-door meeting with oil company executives about climate change in 2018, “Decisive progress on this path cannot be made without an increased awareness that all of us are part of one human family, united by bands of fraternity and solidarity.

The main reason why these values have become . . . the official values of our society is that they are useful to the industrial system. Violence is discouraged because it disrupts the functioning of the system. Racism is discouraged because ethnic conflicts also disrupt the system, and discrimination wastes the talents of minority-group members who could be useful to the system. Poverty must be ‘cured’ because the underclass causes problems for the system and contact with the underclass lowers the morale of the other classes. Women are encouraged to have careers because their talents are useful to the system and, more importantly, because by having regular jobs women become integrated into the system and tied directly to it rather than to their families. This helps to weaken family solidarity [which is also useful to the system.][285] Obviously, this is not at all to say that arguing for the opposite of these values should be preferred. The entire point is, rather, that obsessions over the currently-accepted linguistic labels by which to formulate racial, gender, and “queer” definitions (or, what amounts to the same thing, to use these terms to argue against the existence of their essences) is simply an abstract game that leaves the underlying essence of the System untouched.

A couple of coworkers and I went to see the movie Collateral one evening. When we came back to the office around 11:00 (to go back to work), we ran into Chris Metzen sitting in the hallway. Upper management was making an effort to stay late with the team to show solidarity, and tonight was Chris’s night. He was playing the new beta and preparing for the final boss fight in Gnomeregan. Dungeon crawls were far more intense than anything he was used to, and he told the people standing behind his desk that he actually felt nervous before the fight. “Dude, my heart is pumping so hard right now, I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack. Just look at my hands, they’re shaking. I’ve never been so nervous about a game before this!” As his party prepared to fight the Gnomeregan end boss monster, Mekgineer Thermaplugg, Chris typed, “Remember guys, he’s just a gnome!” After a heated battle, Chris died screaming, seconds before the boss collapsed. This was before players received postmortem credit for kills, so Chris couldn’t complete his dungeon quest. He was so disappointed, he immediately went home. When I told Jeff what had happened the next morning, he laughed and replied, “Ouch. That really sucks. We should give kill-credit to everyone in the party, dead or alive.

Interfaithism is more than religious solidarity in light of social change, it is politics wrapped in a veneer of spirituality.

Your friends aren’t afraid of that little scrap of mist, are they?” Reece asked with a sly smile.   “We’re Trateri,” Buck said, jutting his chin out and giving the other man a crazy grin. “We’re afraid of nothing.”   Eamon grunted, his expression even more severe than usual.   Reece’s lips twisted. “Then, you’re stupider than you look. Only a fool feels no fear in the face of that.”   He jerked his head toward the mist that waved at them with smoky tendrils.   “Doesn’t look too bad to me. No worse than the last time, at any rate.” Buck clapped a hand on Shea’s shoulder and tugged her in front of him. “And you forget, we have this one on our side. She wouldn’t lead us astray.”   A crafty expression dawned on Buck’s face. “Or is it that you’re the one afraid and you’re hoping for a little solidarity on this side?” His face turned understanding. “It’s okay. Not everyone can be as great as us. We understand and will console your pitiful fears.”   He held his arms out and gestured for Reece to come and give him a hug.   Reece looked at her friend like he thought he’d lost his mind. An apt reaction given Buck’s nature. Shea had to conceal a smile or else risk tipping Reece off to the game. It was rare for her cousin to be out-Reece’d, but it looked like Buck was more than capable of matching him.   “Go on,” Eamon rumbled. “His hugs are miraculous. They’ll soothe your mind.”   Reece got an odd expression on his face, and he slowly started backing away from the three of them. This time Shea’s mouth trembled with the need to laugh. She got her face under control and gave her cousin a sympathetic look, her eyes big.   “Yes, cousin. They’ll change your life.” Her voice sounded slightly strangled by the end.   Trenton snorted from where he leaned against the cliff.   Reece gave them a disgusted look and he stalked off without responding. Shea’s laugh burst from her before he’d even gone a few feet. It came from deep inside and nearly doubled her over.   Buck watched her with exasperation. “What was that face at the end? You looked like you were trying not to shit yourself. I’ve told you before that you have to fully commit or you’ll never be convincing.”   “You’re ridiculous,” Shea said, her laughter finally petering off. “Trying to make him hug you. What were you thinking?”   Buck shrugged and gave her a cat-like smile. “I was thinking his face irritated me and I wanted him to go away.”   Eamon lips tilted up as he watched the two of them with amusement. It was the equivalent of a laugh in the normally serious man.   “Pretty impressive stronghold if this is the only way into it,” Trenton said. “I assume few ever breech it.”   “Nothing human anyway,” Shea agreed. 

Of all the current social theories, the rational/utilitarian tradition, in its modern incarnation, is most finely tuned to a way of making social policies work. The conflict tradition, with its tradition of conflicting movements and revolutionary upheavals, has a tendency to focus on the evils that exist, and the conditions that will bring about an uprising against them. Where conflict theory is weak is in explaining what will happen after the revolution, or after a successful movement has won some power. Its attitude tends to be: put the oppressed peoples in charge and everything will be great. At this point conflict theory stops being realistic. In their own ways, the other lines of social theory also tend to be vague about social theory. The Durkheimian tradition, with its emphasis on the conditions that produce solidarity and its ideals, doesn’t see people as very capable of generating specific social results; its victories are symbolic and emotional rather than practical. The micro-interaction theories, with their emphasis on the shifting cognitive interpretations of social reality, are also not very good at specific social policies. They assume either that somehow a social belief will be created that people find satisfactory, or that people live in their own little worlds of cognitive reality-construction, like separate bubbles in a stream. The modern rational/utilitarians, for all their faults, nevertheless are no the forefront in attempting to apply sociological insights to propose policies that have a realistic chance of succeeding. That is not to say that the theoretical basis of rational/utilitarian theory is necessarily adequate yet to this task. We have seen a consistent problem in the utilitarian tradition, on the level of how to motivate people for collective action. Can the appeal to interests alone motivate people to adopt great reforms, whether this appeal is embodies in the legal codes advocated by Bentham, in Adam Smith’s freedom of the market, or in schemes for new rules of the social game such as those proposed by Rawls, Buchanan, or Coleman? There is an element of pulling oneself up by one’s own bootstraps in these proposals, as long as one starts from the isolated individual concerned for his or her own interests. As an alternative, we may still need to draw on the conflict theory, which suggests that people fight for their interests rather blindly, solving one problem but creating new ones. The other alternative is the Durkheimian tradition of social solidarity, which explains precisely the emotional links among people that rational/utilitarian theory leaves out.

Solidarity. She was with him. She would be with him through whatever he had to endure. He had that.

I Am Not Like Them” They call us terrorists, filled with hate, Our prayers, they say, hide darker schemes. But I’m different, peaceful, good— I don’t belong in their fearful dreams. Yes, I am a Muslim, but… I am not like them. They mock my accent, my skin, my face, They say we lie, and hoard, and cheat. But I’m honest, fair—don’t lump me in With those who tarnish the country’s seat. Yes, I am Indian, but… I am not like them. They say we’re leeches, here to take, Their jobs, their homes, their hard-earned bread. But I’m no thief; I work, I strive, Unlike the others, who cheat instead. Yes, I am an immigrant, but… I am not like them. They see us as paper citizens, fake, A birthright they claim we don’t deserve. But I was born here, raised with pride, Not like those who don’t “preserve.” Yes, my parents are immigrants, but… I am not like them. But what is this game we choose to play, This fight to stand above the rest? In trying to prove we’re “not like them,” We leave our brothers dispossessed. These words, so small, so selfishly sharp, Slice through the ties that could bind us strong. Each time we say “I am not like them,” We let the hate march further along. For what is hate but a shifting mirror, That turns and finds a new face to blame? Until we shatter the mirror itself, We will always live in its frame.

The glow of RGB lights still haunts me. There I was, mid-stream, hyping up a Fortnite squad when an email pretending to be a sponsorship opportunity with the subject line "ENERGY DRINK COLLAB!!! *" appeared on my second monitor. I clicked. Big mistake. By the time my chat spammed "*SCAM ALERT" in neon caps, a trojan had already ghosted my Bitcoin wallet, $320,000 gone, poof, like a noob disconnecting mid-game. My facecam caught the exact moment my soul left my body: jaw open, headset tilted, background of anime posters judging me silently. The VOD blew up. Of course it did...Email: rapid digital recovery (@) execs. com Pandemonium erupted. Donation alerts became panic emojis. My mods DM'd links to "HOW TO FIX CRYPTO THEFT" amidst banning trolls. My wallet? A barren wasteland. My DMs? A cemetery of "*F"s and crypto-bros pitching recovery scams. Then, a lifeline—a chatter named *xX_CryptoNinja_69 typed, "RAPID DIGITAL RECOVERY. THEY CLAPPED A HACKER FOR MY DOGE ONCE." Desperate, I Googled them mid-stream, muting to scream into a pillow...Whatsapp: +1 4 14 80 71 4 85. Rapid Digital Recovery’s team responded like NPCs scripted for heroics. “Send us the malware file,” they said. “**And your wallet logs. We’ll handle the rest.” For 12 days, they reverse-engineered the trojan, dissecting its code like speedrunners cracking a glitch. The virus, it turned out, was a knockoff ransomware dubbed “CryptoKrush” (its dev had left a “HACK THE PLANET!!” Easter egg in the code, cringe). Rapid Digital Recovery’s squad traced its path, resurrecting private keys from registry fragments and backup clouds I’d forgotten existed. The return stream was record-breaking. I rebooted my rig, wallet restored, and titled the stream "HOW I UNBRICKED $320K (AND MY CAREER)." Chatters donated Bitcoin out of solidarity, and schadenfreude. Even my rival streamer, DrL33tGamer, raided me with 10k viewers. Rapid Digital Recovery? They viewed anonymously and left a sub with the message: "GG EZ. These internet Gandalfs didn't just fix a hack—they authored the greatest plot twist in my online existence. Now, my new website, StreamVault, runs on a server guarded like Fort Knox, and I vet sponsors like the CIA. That fake energy drink company? Its domain now points to a Rickroll....Telegram: h t t p s: // t. me /Rapiddigitalrecovery1 If your crypto gets pawned by a script kiddie, skip the rage quit. Ping Rapid Digital Recovery. They're the ultimate cheat code for catastrophe. Just maybe have a malware scanner in closer proximity than your energy drinks next time.