Note: I've written several things since it, but consider this blog a direct follow-up to Game Over.

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I hate hypocrisy. I suppose that's nothing original to me, but it bears mentioning, because it's one of the most consistent and important parts of my life. And since what I'm about to say may be construed by some as hypocritical, I've taken a lot of time to figure out how to say it, and while I might not have nailed it, hopefully I'll have done at least my best to convey why I don't see myself as a hypocrite -- that the possibility of me being called one weighed into my decision to say it anyway.

If I ever pursue a course of action which is inconsistent with something I've said (particularly something I've published), I strive to make sure that it's a matter of progress rather than regress, that where I'm going is a step forward from where I've been rather than a setback to a prior position.

Over the last few days I have had some very choice words to say about Marvel. Actually, I've had such words for them for a long time, but those words in particular were a bit more concrete. Their implications, resounding. And they weren't, as I recently pointed out, the first of even their kind; I'd approached swearing off Marvel before on abuse terms and then promptly regretted it.

This time, I'd like to say the difference was my fervor, but it wasn't. No, the real difference was audience, and in particular solidarity: my post accomplished more than establishing my ire with the company; it established the commonality of the brutal Marvel experience. In the mouth of a guy who has barely been reading comics for four months, folks who've spent their whole lives reading comics found their own feelings put into words.

I suppose one might argue that in a way, me choosing to read Marvel comics after all -- and especially any time soon -- would undermine all that. But I think the opposite may be true. I think by uncovering how widespread this issue is, and getting so many people to say "good point, you're right," I discovered something which legitimately needs to be addressed and resolved, something which could only ever be changed from within, with a strong voice that is informed enough to know what it's talking about, with firsthand knowledge to lend specificity to its claims.

What I realized, in a roundabout way, is that Marvel fans needed a voice like mine speaking out on their behalf more than they need me to boycott the books -- books which, ironically, many who agreed with and supported my own declaration still plan to buy and read themselves. If they can agree with what I said and still justify buying Marvel comics, why can't I?

I knew going back to Marvel was a possibility for me. And that is why I left a very clear backdoor within the words of my declaration: the countdown/continue analogy was more than mere metaphor; it was the acknowledgement that I hadn't committed permanently to the end of this "game."

Who among us has not said, in various ways, "I hate this game," "screw this, I'm done," "this game sucks," when confronting a difficult or unfair opponent, only to a moment later overcome the challenge after trying again in spite of ourselves, and perhaps even recommend the game to a friend? It happens in games. It happens throughout life. As one commenter noted, doing things which piss us off is hardly unique to the process of selecting comics. Why should coping with that be okay everywhere else, but not here?

I have allowed myself to be an emotional victim in my relationship with Marvel pretty much since the beginning. And the thing I finally realized is, if I'm going to be miserable pining after the books I'm not reading, then my boycott hasn't changed anything for me, because Marvel still has the power to make me feel unhappy, even when I'm ostensibly asserting myself. And that is just stupid.

So today, I'm putting in my final two quarters. I've read the strategy guides, and I have a better idea of the trials and tricks this particular game involves. I think I may be able to beat this game, but as with anything in comics, that's a long-haul proposition, because it's going to take a lot of time, and it's going to take a lot of support. But I think if there really are people out there who are tired of being abused by Marvel, and still love Marvel characters, they can be rallied together. Their voice can be heard. They can make companies like this (I haven't forgotten my DC friends) listen, but it won't happen through individual boycotts or laughably-unsupported petitions.

I'm not saying I'm a leader. I'm still quite wet behind the ears. But clearly I'm onto something which people can get behind. And none of us want Marvel to die. We just want Marvel to be better, to lead better. They depend on their fans for survival. I say it's about time those fans began discussing a way to exploit that and make something happen. And I want to be part of that. Which means I want to be able to be, and stay, a fan, throwing full weight behind the good Marvel does and turning my rants up to eleven when discussing the bad Marvel does.

So many people claim to have been inspired by comics, to be better people because of them and their community. If today's comics are failing to provide that kind of inspiration or hope, we shouldn't quietly cancel our pull lists or curse about it to ourselves on message boards and irrelevant blogs. We should find more effective channels to amplify our opinions and DEMAND something better.

As Dan Slott, the man who continues to find new ways to kill Peter Parker, boldly declares all over his social media, "haters gonna hate." If that's all we can do -- be predictably angry, but little else -- then maybe his smugness is justified. But even if a guy like Dennis Hopeless mocks it, we do have power. Fan outrage DID get Gail Simone her job back. But only because that outrage gained traction, and made itself indisputably known.

I'll be honest. I don't know what sort of channels I expect to find, or how much support I can actually rally. I don't know if I can convince people to drop books they might enjoy for a greater good -- though that hasn't stopped me from trying before. I don't know what "winning" looks like because, like I said, I'm new to this -- but the fact that I'm new and said something right away and had old-timers respond "finally, someone gets this" suggests that my newness isn't going to preclude doing something useful.

If nothing else, I have never felt so strongly about something and then just let it go away. I will find a way to win this "game" if such a way exists. And if one doesn't, and I find myself beaten back down to the Game Over screen?

Well, like I said, I'm using my last quarters. There's no back door this time.

Thanks to everyone who has responded to me in the last week, regardless of what side of the aisle you were on. I hope those who supported me are able to still do so; if not, I understand. Meantime?

Game on.