essay beginning i wrote at work with reference to painting

I shall seek to determine, of perhaps, muse on the real reason as to why many people play video games.
For many years, many have enjoyed sliding a block up-and-down the screen blocking and deflecting a small ball and bouncing it back and forth, guiding a yellow monster through a maze all the while avoiding colourful ghosts ready to steal away lives, or even trying the save a princess from a large dinosaur while jumping on top of toothy little monsters and turtles. Each of these games represent different eras of games, and likewise, different generations of gamers, all who strive for that ultimate goal or legendary score.
But why is it that we, as gamers, play games. I’m not here to determine the superficial reasons, such as perhaps the joy of entertainment, reasons of escapism or the sociological benefits from multiplayer games. Games have been described as being mediums of entertainment amongst family, friends and, in modern gaming, strangers via the massive competitive multiplayer arenas; but what I strive to determine is the pure psychological reasons in any single gamer.
While it’s true that games provide a great sense of escapism and can even be a great method for relaxing after a day of arduous tasks, but perhaps there is a reason much more sinister.
It is also true that most people in these modern times are subjected to many demands in life, from work, family, friends and even strangers.

The Lament for Icarus by Herbert Draper

something i wrote at work

If the circumstances of the next few days could have warned me, I would have never come here, but seeing as how any prophetic ability isn’t among the strange occurrences that should eventually occur, I remained ignorant to any future danger. Heck, if I had of known where the agency was sending me, I wouldn’t have come anyways, but unfortunately, when a small seaside town appears on the map, it needs to be explored, and glorified by my own eyes and pen.
Arriving in the small town mere seconds ago, the first thing that struck me was the decrepit state the place was in; a ghost town straight out of some fictional post-apocalyptic imagining; aside from a few cats, the streets remained soulless. The building were arranged unevenly, as if they had been stacked like children’s playthings, each appeared empty, with doors and window curtains pull shut. All of these details I quickly jotted into my notebook.
4 stars.
I passed a great number of these building; a supermarket, a bookshop, antique shop, fishing bait and tackle shop, hardware shop, and finally, my destination, a seemingly small, archaic building marked ‘motel’. I pulled into the driveway, an empty driveway\