"Maribel" was chosen as my first name in response to emotional resonance of the stories of an individual. Conversely, I adopted the middle name "Althea" because of community.
"Althea" is one of two Jerry Garcia/Robert Hunter compositions on the Grateful Dead's 1980 studio album Go to Heaven, their first of three featuring Brent Mydland as keyboardist and alternate leading vocalist. The song itself is hauntingly beautiful, a transition (or perhaps a boundary) between all the things people love the music of the Grateful Dead for.
If I were to use only one word to describe much of the material from this three album run, which also includes In the Dark and Built to Last is "triumphant". These albums contained anthems for the new heights the Dead would reach, which in turn introduced the concept of jam band culture to a wider audience. They played stadiums, and induced crowd pops not unlike the ones the teams that played there did.
There are two stories that deserve to be told in parallel here. The first is the story of how the Grateful Dead became cognizant of the legacy they were building in their twilight years; the second being how I internalized jam band culture as the focal point of how I wish to build cameraderie and interact with communities.
Can't talk to you without talking to me, we're guilty of the same old thing. / Been talking alot about less and less and forgetting the love we bring.
Lost Sailor > Saint of Circumstance
You're lost sailor / You've been too long at sea / Now the shore-lights beckon / Yeah there's a price for being free
These two songs appear next to each other on Go to Heaven, and were played together since their debut until Lost Sailor was dropped from the lineup suddenly in 1986. There are also several lyrical connections between the two songs, such as mentions of "going on a dream" and talking about the "dog star" with reverence. Regardless of whether it was with its counterpart or not, Saint of Circumstance often served as the exclamation mark in the chapters that are Grateful Dead concerts. The linked jam served as such on the Dead Ahead home video tape, the first of its kind.
Bob Weir's lead vocals[1] on this pair of tunes, along with the lyrics he penned alongside John Perry Barlow, are among the best exemplifications of what they contributed to the 30+ year story of the Dead. As an avid listener of full complete shows on the Grateful Dead's Sirius XM channel on long car rides, the crescendos building up throughout Lost Sailor and the resolution provided by Saint of Circumstance have always lived on in my head, long before I knew the title of either song. This dedicated channel, and the deep archives that fuel its continued existence, are another monument to the legacy the Grateful Dead has left us.
All engineering students at RIT are required to have two full semesters and full summers worth of co-op experience to successfully graduate. For the Class of 2022, the part of the curriculum that included the weaving in and out of co-op blocks coincided perfectly with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. This added layer of complexity meant that changing trajectories (whether that mean changing majors or changing career paths within a major) went from being merely "extremely costly" to "practically impossible". Any approach beyond simply trying to make it through one day at a time by yourself for yourself had to be put on the wayside. Through Zoom sessions and our exisitng group chats, we could only do so much to help each other. This, combined with still having to do a mad dash to secure co-ops that wouldn't even be guaranteed to exist by the time the hiring process would normally complete, atomized us further.
I personally threw in the towel on getting hired in the Summer of 2020. For my last shot at getting hired for the purpose of graduating on time, I was able to find a role that would purportedly fulfill my remaining co-op requirements; while I did take that job, I was not told I was lied to regarding the duration of the term until I asked for clarity on if I was going to be extended or not. The school administration was kind enough to waive the weeks remaining on my requirements because I made it clear that I got hosed by this company and that I needed to focus on searching for full-time work.
Year Five. Two semesters of classes remained, starting with the hardest individual semester of core coursework in the sequence. Full in-person classes have resumed by now, and beyond making up for lost time, our primary motivator was to help each other cross the finish line, no matter what. As with the senior classes before us, we took full command of our department's recitation room along with the mobile whiteboard from the hallway outside. While the intent of these whiteboards were to be filled with coursework-related stuff, we instead took this prerogative to paint these canvases with artwork, motivational messages, and, for my own personal contribution, a countdown to graduation day that I updated religiously.[2]
Maintaining the graduation countdown got me more praise from my classmates, whether they were close friends with me or if I was basically a cryptid to them, than anything else I did in my capacity as a student. They appreciated the reminder of what we are doing this for, and credited it with genuinely uplifting them, which returned the favor.
Being the recipient of this universal praise in the leadup to our graduation imbued me with clarity of purpose. No longer was I a lost sailor, chucking Hail Marys in an attempt to find my niche; I was to be a saint of circumstance, motivated mainly by living and embracing my loved ones. After consummating my graduation celebration by attending Combo Breaker 2022, I changed my online handle to match.
Well it's been heaven
Even rainbow's will end
Now my sails are filling
The wind so willing
And I'm good as gone again
Touch of Grey
Dawn is breaking everywhere / Light a candle, curse the glare / Draw the curtains, I don't care / 'Cause it's alright
The release and promotion of In the Dark was the focal point of the Dead's late-career explosion in popularity. While the rocking tunes of "Hell in a Bucket" and "Throwing Stones" also recieved plenty of play by DJs and VJs alike, "Touch of Grey" gets credited for doing the most heavy lifting, so much so that first-time concert goers from 1987-89 were given the label "Touch-heads".
There are many facts one can cite that justify why this was the case. My personal explanation is that, thematically, "Touch of Grey" bottled everything people enjoyed about the Dead up and ejected the overarching feeling of "triumph". The refrain "I will get by / I will survive" is the band making a stand of defiance towards whatever comes next. The end-of-song pronoun shift to "We will get by / We will survive" is emblematic of the zeitgeist the band occupied: we are in this together, and only through recognizing this and standing united will we make it through whatever comes next.
The linked recording is from a magical night in Orchard Park, immortalized on the Truckin' Up to Buffalo concert DVD. Footage from this July 4th, 1989 concert[3] makes it clear that, despite all the challenges a stadium tour brings, the band and its fanbase united as one just as it would in an intimate theater setting. As a child of the Buffalo Bills drought era, I longed to know what it was like to celebrate an on-field performance occuring in the now.
In my honest opinion, the majority of problems facing the FGC revolve around the fight over how important the "C" component actually is. Diminishing the community aspect can take many forms, and can be accomplished by entities that exist either inside or outside community spaces. One anti-community trend that is much more ubiquitous amongst fighting gamers than I'd like to see is the age-old trope of "might makes right". In this worldview, "pressing buttons good", as me and others who don't share this worldview like to derisively refer to it, is to be glorified above all else, even "being a good person". This line of thinking reinforces itself within its adherents further through the form of developing parasocial relationships, which "come in handy" when it comes time for the benificiary of the parasociality to evade accountability for being, say, a bigot or sex pest.
Other anti-community activities fall under the umbrella of "esports". One social media interaction that will always exist in my mind is an Overwatch League commentator, after a while going back and forth with another esports dipshit mad at the concept of open-entry tournaments, decries the FGC as "the militant communists of gaming". Many fighting gamers, being who we are, immediately made it a goal to respond to that assertion with "this but unironically". While this act of dogpiling was funny, the fact that those people were fine having that initial conversation in the first place speaks to a wider point: the rich and powerful find the idea of egalitarianism antithetical to their worldview and goals.
How do I personally counteract all of this stuff? Well, for one, I ignore the discourse and the chase for mainstream appeal by simply playing what I want to play, regardless of external incentives, in relative anonymity. I also supplant this with recognizing that offline fighting game events are vacations from real-world obligations; setting my goals accordingly. For the longest time, the only goal I set for any regional or major was "enjoy myself"; after realizing I was trans, I reset the bar to an even simpler proposition: "be myself".
I'd like to be a leader in this community willing to help everyone be on the same page about what our values are and how important it is to defend them. This will come with time and experience in community management, tournament/event organizing, and simply growing into a body and voice I can be proud in. In the meantime, I enjoy the act of proselytizing about my view of what the FGC can and should be: a place where people live in the now[5] and for one another.
Built to Last
All the stars are gone but one / Morning breaks here comes the sun / Cross the sky now sinking fast / Show me something built to last
Despite being the title track of the Dead's final studio album, "Built to Last" was only ever played live once after the album's release. Four months to the day after its sole live performance of the 1990s, keyboardist Brent Mydland died of an overdoese. Mydland's passing broke Jerry Garcia further. Garcia began to openly question the band's future, stating that their chemistry would never be the same and that their current rate of touring was unsustainable.
After expressing these vocal doubts about where the band stood, Garcia relapsed. The rest of the band was quick to intervene, united in the message that we are here for you. In this moment, Garcia decided that it was for the best if he got clean on his own terms.
Despite several concerted efforts at recovery, Garcia's health continued to decline, and relapsing was the most accessible outlet he had to dull the pain. The terminus of this rocky downhill road was stays in two rehabilitation centers, the latter being where Jerry Garcia passed away on August 9th, 1995.
The rest of the band was heartbroken upon hearing the news that they had lost their most precious friend, the one that brought them together.
The famous quote from Field of Dreams, "If you build it, they will come", has long played on repeat in my head when discussing what I want to see out of a fighting games's playerbase. I know when a game and its playerbase is built to last when emphasis is placed on fostering an environment where players are free to be themselves. With this base requirement in place, the next prerogative is to display genuine enthusiasm for the game they play.
These core tenents go a long way. The sustained momentum French Bread's fighting games have enjoyed owes a lot to people enjoying themselves at Climax of Night. Two of the more highly regarded annual events that got their start in the 2020s, Slashback and Beach Episode, lean heavily on these values too.
This year's installment of Beach Episode ended up being my first event out of the closet. Not only was it as special as I hoped, it felt fated. As I was preparing to start coming out to people, I thanked a pillar of that scene directly for fostering a culture of inclusion by simply being themselves. At the end of the event, right as the general public was about to get kicked out so the staff could start their teardown, I expressed to them a desire to let it all out. The ensuing hug accomplished just that, and the vacated space was filled with feeling I wished to never let go of.
So Many Roads
Exactly one month before Jerry's passing, the Grateful Dead took to the stage for the final time at Soldier Field in Chicago. Subconciously, the band knew it was the end and gave it their all one final time. The rendition of "So Many Roads" from this show is considered one of the most soulful single-song performances in the band's storied history, a must-listen landmark.
During the Dead's twilight years, they had extended a helping hand that had reached out and touched many more. This manifested in them inspiring a whole second generation of jam bands. These new bands, each with their own unique additional influences, would embark on their own improvizational journeys down so many roads. Of these, one band in particular, Phish, was able to separate itself from the pack and become the new "default" jam band to follow.[6] In addition to these spiritual successors to the Grateful Dead, the 30+ years since Jerry's passing have also brought us literal successors to them in the form of reunions of surviving members.
The summer of 2015's Fare Thee Well concert series offered an opportunity for all of these roads to converge one final time. Phish's Trey Anastasio would walk in Jerry's shoes alongside the four surviving core members of the Dead (Weir, Lesh, Kreutzmann, and Hart) and keyboardists Bruce Hornsby and Jeff Chimenti to put on five unforgettable shows in a full circle moment.
The ability for people from many different walks of life to converge in one place, as one community, with one goal is something I will always cherish and never take for granted. We aren't just celebrating music or games when we come together, we are celebrating one another, ourselves, and life itself.