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Geek hierarchy
Brunching Shuttlecocks did a very funny geek hierarchy that I just came across. It started me thinking (not for the first time) that there really is such a thing. I'm not positive about the actual hierarchy part. Personally, I'm not sure I can judge who's superior: the guy who can perform all of Eddie Gordo's fighting combinations on... whatever game features Eddie Gordo? Or the guy who can tell you, scene by scene, where the Lord of the Rings films diverge from the books.
I can't do either one, so who am I to judge?
My conception would probably be more of a Venn diagram than a hierarchy. There would be a circle for all the obvious groups. Fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, roleplayers, people who know what the term "browncoat" refers to. (I'd be in all those circles, by the way.) Then there would be a circle (at least) for "athleeks." Adherents of things that are actually physically very challenging but still fringe enough to be geeky. (Actually, "fringe" alone doesn't cover it, unless you want to consider skateboarders and parkour artists as geeks. And while I certainly wouldn't object, my gut reaction is that they aren't. Well... maybe the skateboarders. But those parkour guys are cool as ice.)
So what constitutes geek athletics? I don't know. Maybe it requires a certain amount of simulation or... appropriately enough, roleplay. I'd count martial arts, fencing, and paintball as geek athletics. (Again, I'm an avid fan of all three.) I'm sure there are people who train fencing purely because it's a competitive sport. Same with paintball tournies. Or various competitive martial arts. But seriously, like I'm the only one who's convinced that my friends and I, geared up for paintball, constitute a faithful recreation of the team from Predator. Or that one day, my office building really will be stormed by ninja waiting to be felled by one well-placed blow after another. And don't even consider questioning whether my swash ever comes unbuckled. DON'T DO IT.
I'm not really going anywhere with any of this. But when you think about it, even a Venn diagram starts to get pretty damn hazy in a universe where athleeks possess both physical prowess and an encyclopaedic knowledge of Lovecraft and where avid baseball fans furiously scribble notes, calculate percentages, and design fantasy teams to pit against one another.
I originally wrote "pitt" in that last sentence. Then realized that I'd accidentally typed the title of an obscure comic book series. Another circle for that increasingly useless diagram.
I can't do either one, so who am I to judge?
My conception would probably be more of a Venn diagram than a hierarchy. There would be a circle for all the obvious groups. Fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, roleplayers, people who know what the term "browncoat" refers to. (I'd be in all those circles, by the way.) Then there would be a circle (at least) for "athleeks." Adherents of things that are actually physically very challenging but still fringe enough to be geeky. (Actually, "fringe" alone doesn't cover it, unless you want to consider skateboarders and parkour artists as geeks. And while I certainly wouldn't object, my gut reaction is that they aren't. Well... maybe the skateboarders. But those parkour guys are cool as ice.)
So what constitutes geek athletics? I don't know. Maybe it requires a certain amount of simulation or... appropriately enough, roleplay. I'd count martial arts, fencing, and paintball as geek athletics. (Again, I'm an avid fan of all three.) I'm sure there are people who train fencing purely because it's a competitive sport. Same with paintball tournies. Or various competitive martial arts. But seriously, like I'm the only one who's convinced that my friends and I, geared up for paintball, constitute a faithful recreation of the team from Predator. Or that one day, my office building really will be stormed by ninja waiting to be felled by one well-placed blow after another. And don't even consider questioning whether my swash ever comes unbuckled. DON'T DO IT.
I'm not really going anywhere with any of this. But when you think about it, even a Venn diagram starts to get pretty damn hazy in a universe where athleeks possess both physical prowess and an encyclopaedic knowledge of Lovecraft and where avid baseball fans furiously scribble notes, calculate percentages, and design fantasy teams to pit against one another.
I originally wrote "pitt" in that last sentence. Then realized that I'd accidentally typed the title of an obscure comic book series. Another circle for that increasingly useless diagram.