Dispatch from the edge of the galaxy, where I keep a gun in my boot and a firm grip on my own damn soul.
So I’ve been chewing on something lately. You ever get that scratchy feeling behind your eyes like you’re seeing more than you’re supposed to? Like you accidentally noticed the code in the corner of the simulation?
That’s where I’m at. Not with the obvious stuff — I’ve already come to terms with the fact that most news is propaganda and most “tech solutions” are Trojan horses. I’m talking about the entertainment designed to feel disposable. The so-called “just-for-fun” kind.
The chaos-fueled co-op horror games. The jump-scare simulators. The ones where your friends scream over voice chat while you scramble to survive something fake. Adrenaline, but make it pixelated.
Now don’t get me wrong — I’m no pearl-clutcher. I’ve been face-down in more than one party and chased real monsters down real alleys. I get the appeal of controlled chaos. But this isn’t just a thrill ride. This is training. Conditioning. Fragmentation. And it’s got the oily fingerprints of transhumanism all over it.
Here’s what I mean:
1. They’re Fracturing Your Nervous System on Purpose
Games like these jack your fight-or-flight switch on repeat — no resolution, no pause, no processing. Just spike, reward, spike again.
Operating on a cycle of heightened alertness + reward + chaos, they’re designed to spike the sympathetic nervous system — fight-or-flight mode — again and again and again.
The problem is, most people don’t come back down fully. Over time, this can:
- Desensitize them to actual danger
- Erode natural rest states
- Create an addiction to stimulation (boredom becomes intolerable)
- Build up a kind of psychic “static” that interferes with intuition and clarity
The body stops knowing how to rest. The spirit stops knowing what stillness feels like. You end up chasing stimulus just to feel something.
That’s not entertainment. That’s a recalibration of your wiring — and not in your favor.
2. Dissociation & Disembodiment
You’re frozen in a chair while your brain lives in a collapsing warehouse with flickering lights and unseen threats. That’s not presence, that’s dissociation in drag.
These games are immersive — but not in a grounded, meaningful way. Instead, they create surrogate realities where the body is still, but the brain is on fire.
That disconnect leads to:
- Reduced emotional regulation (harder to name or feel what’s real)
- A weaker sense of self rooted in the physical world
- A vulnerability to manipulation because you’re not in yourself enough to notice
It’s like your soul is being siphoned off into a place that doesn’t return anything true.
Real embodiment gives you agency. Disembodiment makes you easier to program. Guess which one the system prefers?
3. They Fragment the Psyche by Design
These games mess with your emotional cohesion. You play scared, you laugh, you die, you start again. But where does the fear go? Where does the confusion go? Nowhere. It piles up.
Fragmentation happens when you’re constantly:
- Switching roles
- Engaging with warped moral situations
- Experiencing high-stakes fear with no meaning attached
It splits the psyche into compartments:
- One for what’s real
- One for what’s performative
- One for where the fear went
- One for the dopamine
And none of them are whole.
That’s a spiritual wound, not just a cognitive pattern.
4. They Swap Out the Soul for Simulation
Here’s where it gets extra greasy. These “games” are full of false versions of everything sacred:
- False connection (screaming on Discord ≠ intimacy)
- False danger (nothing at stake but your adrenaline)
- False purpose (collect trinkets, escape shadows, win… nothing)
The nervous system doesn’t always know the difference — but your soul does. And it starts to forget what real feels like.
5. They’re Priming You for the Transhumanist Slide
Let’s not pretend this isn’t on purpose.
Games like this get you used to:
- Stimulation without substance
- Synthetic environments more vivid than real ones
- Control systems disguised as reward loops
It teaches the system that meaning can be manufactured rather than lived. It blurs the line between inner life and programmed feedback loops.
In time, this can make someone more accepting of:
- Bio-digital merging
- Algorithmic control
- Replacing reality with simulation
- Outsourcing intuition to tech
They train you to be okay with algorithmic meaning. They prep you for a life where reality is optional, and sovereignty is outdated. Where dopamine matters more than discernment. Where the body is just a meat joystick. Even if you never consciously say “I support transhumanism,” your soul is being trained to tolerate and even crave its scaffolding.
6. They Undermine Spiritual Sovereignty
The worst part? They make you identify with powerlessness. When you’re repeatedly immersed in chaotic, synthetic environments with predatory energy signatures (monsters, shadows, ambiguous threats), you begin to identify with powerlessness.
Even when you “win,” you’ve just survived a gauntlet of external threats you couldn’t predict or control. That trains you to expect:
- Ambiguous monsters
- No true safety
- Constant reaction, no creation
This wears away at:
- Your sovereignty (sense that your choices shape reality)
- Your light field (energetic protection and coherence)
- Your moral imagination (your ability to envision goodness, not just survive threat)
These games don’t just entertain — they program, condition, and co-opt.
It chips away at the part of you that knows how to shape reality. The part that’s meant to command timelines and part oceans. That part doesn’t do well in a haunted factory.
So yeah. Call me judgmental. Call me suspicious. Call me your neighborhood space cowgirl with a plasma rifle full of prophecy. But I’ve seen this pattern before.
It always starts as a game.
It ends with the lights flickering and the door locked from the outside.
Stay sharp out there. Don’t trade your soul for pixels and nebulous panic.
And if you’re already halfway in? You can still walk out. Dust yourself off. Find beauty that doesn’t scream. Choose coherence over chaos. Sovereignty over stimulation.
I’ll be here. Fire at my back. Stars overhead. Watching the real ones come home.
