I don't deal with death that often, and when I do, I don't really know how to... be normal about it? Detachment isn't really what I'd call it, but I guess it is. It's not that I don't care when someone dies, I just don't know what to say or how to feel, and usually I feel okay about it. Probably because I'm not that close to many people, and usually when I hear about someone dying, it's either someone I don't know or someone that's not a big part of my life. Or (not to be insensitive) a big enough part of my life. To me, death is such a pervasive part of our existence, and while I have no desire to let go of this realm, I also don't really fear death that much.
However, every once in a while, I hear about someone passing and it just stuns me. That's what happened last Monday, when I read that Ryan Davis of Giant Bomb had died.
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| Peace, bitches. I'm out. |
Here is an obit, in case you don't know who Ryan Davis was to the world. Why do I care that this random internet dude is gone? Well... Ryan has been a huge part of my life for the past 7+ years. Since his time with Gamespot and with the creation and growth of Giant Bomb, every week, multiple times a week, I'd read, watch, or listen to Ryan talk about video games, energy drinks, terrible food, booze, etc. But mostly video games. He shaped the way I consumed video game news and entertainment. He influenced how I made podcasts. He taught me a lot about video games and a lot about being a part of this industry. The only other person who's had more of an affect on me and my relationship with video games is Ryan's friend and co-founder of Giant Bomb, Jeff Gerstmann. So help me, I can't even think of a world without him.
Ryan didn't know me, but I knew him. Beyond his involvement in my life for nearly a decade, I met him once at PAX, my first PAX, after watching him and the rest of the Giant Bomb crew do their first live podcast. I shook his hand and he even recorded an opening for Television Zombies (a podcast I used to be a part of). He was a good guy that I respected immensely, simply for his enthusiasm and zeal with everything he did, regardless the subject. He brought it. To everything.
My thoughts are with his family and friends, and the Giant Bomb crew. I'm truly sorry for their loss.
That Monday, I started working on an image. It's not really related to Ryan, but it is related to video games. I thought of him the entire time - watching videos, listening to podcasts, reading articles, and just looking back at how he has impacted my life. Tuesday at midnight, I finished that image. I hit save for one last time, and something awful happened to my computer. My file had become corrupted and I lost it all. I felt a terrible sense of loss, not just because this was one of the coolest things I feel I've drawn, but also because it was made in remembrance to Ryan.
Thankfully, I'm a huge weirdo, and I take photos of my work in different stages. Parts of the image, here and there. I was able to compile a handful of images, and recreate a low res, crappy, early version of what I was trying to make. And I got back to work, painting over this new compiled version, eventually recreating that image I lost Tuesday night, except a little better. So here it is.
This painting is dedicated to Ryan Davis. Thank you, Ryan. You will be missed.
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