We live in world defined by rigidity and routine. Established parameters and algorithms for life plague our existence at every turn.
In the 1900s, you married your high school sweetheart, served in the military, became educated with the GI Bill, then worked at a company for 30 years until you could eventually retire.
In the 2000s, you married later, skipped the military, went to college, and then joined the workforce with more mobility and less focus on the corporate ladder.
Although these paths have their benefits, greatness and ideation rarely come from beating the drum in the exact way the sheet music you’re provided tells you. The Beatles wouldn’t have crafted their greatest works by following the patterns laid out by generations past.
Innovation and thought patterns decay in the following of approved structures of life and morality. Steve Jobs couldn’t break out of his cyclical thoughts without the assistance of LSD and his tenacious drive to ignore the arbitrary rules that people believe existed in handheld computers.
The sole differentiator between greatness and ineptness lies in between the colorful fabric woven with the memories of a lived experience. Whether it’s hiking the Tibetan mountains, diving into a psychedelic journey, skiing the alps, or simply taking a promenade through an unknown part of town - the core system that fuels the abundance, joy, and creativity of our lives are the side quests we embark on.
A side quest, by video game definition, is a mission that has no correlation to the “main” mission of a game. They’re done purely for sport and to gain the coveted 100% completion of a game. In life and in games, most players will only play for the main story and ignore the side quests completely. Secure stability, earn income, build family, and be nice to our neighbors. While noble in purpose, they lack the essence of what makes us human. The randomness of a night of binge drinking with friends, the debauchery of late night conversations, and the romance of walking through a new city with a potential lover.
Instead, we focus on the status games of the main mission while ignoring our capacity for experience. Money, financial success, and career mobility take focus and obfuscate our ability to determine if we should leap somewhere else. We work to achieve the role our boss once so ardently fought for. We travel to expensive resorts where we are insulated from a novel culture. We sacrifice our agency in exchange for cheap status symbols that don’t reflect greatness - just that we completed the core part of the game.
The players of status games in the main mission believe they have the most important aspect of humanity - agency. Their late nights cleaning the hallways, studying in a classroom, or making a decision in a boardroom are all placed upon them by a force greater than themselves.
Contrary to our beliefs, agency lies at the core of what we’re not supposed to do. The dangerous, the exciting, and the risky. Many travel to achieve status, but fewer integrate into a culture. Many will daydream about the woman at the bar, but few will live a story with them that evening. Many will work without thought, few work to create greatness.
Our lives are never-ending tales of challenges, strife, and missing the mark while playing the main mission. The side quests, which in the moment mean nothing, have no inherent risk. You can play them as often or as rarely as you choose, but the rewards of experience, friendship, and newfound connections vastly outweigh the consequences. How many companies are born out of this dare to try something outside of the core focus of life and how many were manifested in the dreams of those who choose to reside in the games of status?
Our lives will always have sadness, strife, and tumultuous moments, but the good ones are rarely born out of following the path everyone expects us to follow.
Always choose the side quest.