Awhile ago, we made a series of images, posts, and blurbs about a slogan we have: Life is Epic.
To us, the phrase summed up why we wanted to make D20. We thought to ourselves, “What’s the point of promoting a balance between video gaming and physical health?” The answer was inspired by a quote from Socrates: “It is a shame for a [person] to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which [their] body is capable.”
The beauty and strength. More than the rest of the quote, it was those words that struck a chord in us - not because we wanted to be bodybuilders, but because the notion of recognizing and experiencing the beauty and strength inherent in anything is inspiring. When it becomes an act of rediscovery - of appreciating what was always there, hidden from you - it is a lesson to extrapolate and apply in so many other aspects of living.
That’s what is at the heart of saying “Life is Epic.” It’s not that LIFE is going to show up in deep purple letters or that it’s a bajillion pages of weird meter, though that’s a metaphor we probably could unpack some more. It’s the thought that when our head’s are traveling the digital planes, we are at risk of leaving our world and physical lives behind. We risk burying what is closest and most tangible to us; risk being ignorant of the beauty and the strength of the life we are bound to live.
There is a moment at the end of Bladerunner, when Roy Batty monologues to Deckard Cain as he dies. Reflecting on his imminent mortality, he says:
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.
This scene always comes to mind, because in a grim vision of the future, all is bleak and all are blind to the incessant beauty of what is around them. The unique experiences of living. Of thinking, actively, about the insanity and beauty of what we take for granted.