Watched an online interactive war-game today, on a large screen TV. A friend voiced his concern some time ago that his overt interest in those kinds of virtual killing-games might attract the attention of war gods (or Titans, according to the apropos designation by Robert Thurman), and indeed, that is the very idea of such games. They are designed to instill, especially in boys with burgeoning testosterones, a sense of satisfaction in vanquishing an enemy, in actions of valor and teamwork. While there is nothing inherently wrong with any of these things, and while it all seems innocuous and harmless enough because the games after all are virtual, it is just as what the friend had said; the generated fields of energy resonate to interweave with morphic fields of Titans.
There are noble, high, suprahuman Titans, and there are inferior, subhuman Titans. If there is to be consonance with either of such fields, the former would be preferable, but one does not want to be attracted to and attract such fields in the first place. But there will always be those who are prone, and especially (not to be too sexist ...) boys. Most, if not all, of the characters I saw in this game were men. And the players playing online seemed to be boys, monicker-wise and trolling-comments-wise. Some of them do go on revelries of hatred and bloodlust (at least it's virtual), as could be seen from their comments. But let it be known, that in ultimate reality, the Titans, both superior and inferior, are not enemies.
Are these games, then, dangerous because they attract Titan-fields? There are, of course, magickal, ritual ways of self-protection from such fields so they become sublimated. However, even if they are not, perhaps there is a benefit to them after all, in a rather surprising way. Perhaps there is a dissipation that occurs in venting virtually, and the dissipation affords lessening of the actual to come to pass. In other words, dissipation by way of the virtual mitigates actualizations of those enactments. Consciousness after all is connected and interfused with everything.
A long time ago I saw Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket in a theater. It wasn't an action-heavy flick, it was more about the psychology of young jarhead-boys getting turned into killers. In the end of the movie is a poignant scene in which the character called Joker, who had never shot anyone, shoots a dying young sniper (female) as an act of euthanasia. There is a tense closeup of his face as it contorts from an inner, moral struggle, until he finally pulls the trigger. The moral intent and message of the scene were obvious, at least to me, but the guy who was sitting in front of me yelled "YEAH! (and added some testosterone-ridden pejoratives)" at the moment of the gunshot. He just didn't get it. It wasn't supposed to be a feel-good moment. It was the moment in which a boy lost his soul; it was about the sad horrors of war, and how young people, still green in the world, fall to states of being from which they would have a difficult time recovering in times of peace.
But in retrospect, perhaps that dufus' gleeful cheering was alright. Perhaps he dissipated some energy that needed to get released, which went out to get transmuted into something else, i.e. into the Titan-field or perhaps worse, but the new karmas produced, hopefully, would be of virtual, vicarious struggles, instead of actual ones.