So, why does the below speak so much to me about my WOW experience? Err . . oh, sorry . . . yeah, go down and read then come back . . . I'll wait. It's from "Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are dead" by Tom Stoppard for any of you unwashed masses out there [STOP THE DAMNED YEARNING!]. Just change "Actor" to "Player" and then don't confuse that "Player" with "The Player". You'll want to go reread that now, but I can't wait this time. Trust me . . . it all makes sense . . . to me.
PLAYER (to GUIL): Are you familiar with this play?
GUIL: No.
PLAYER: A slaughterhouse-eight corpses all told. It brings out the best in us.
GUIL: You!-What do you know about death?
PLAYER: It's what the actors do best. They have to exploit whatever talent is given to them, and their talent is dying. They can die heroically, comically, ironically, slowly, suddenly, disgustingly, charmingly, or from a great height. My own talent is more general. I extract significance from melodrama, a significance which it does not in fact contain; but occasionally, from out of this matter, there escapes a thin beam of light that, seen at the right angle, can crack the shell of mortality.
ROS: Is that all they can do-die?
PLAYER: No, no-they kill beautifully. In fact some of them kill even better than they die. The rest die better than they kill. They're a team.
ROS: Which ones are which?
PLAYER: There's not much in it.
GUIL: Actors! The mechanics of cheap melodrama! That isn't death! You die so many times; how can you expect them to believe in your death?
PLAYER: On the contrary, it's the only kind they do believe. They're conditioned to it. Audiences know what to expect, and that is all that they are prepared to believe in.
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