Chapter 2: The NPC Paradox- Are You the Main Character? The Disturbing Truth About Automated Thinking

The Assembly Line Mind

When I was a child, my father co-owned a company called RiteLite that manufactured lighting products. From what I remember, it was mostly beautiful brass chandeliers that you would typically see when going to someone's fancy wedding reception. The end product was absolutely gorgeous.

As a curious child with an endless supply of questions, I wanted to help and be a part of the magic that somehow took these dirty raw pieces of brass and transformed them into breathtaking masterpieces. I remember going to my dad's huge three-floor factory in Brooklyn and seeing nothing but industrial machines with workers stationed at each one, working on individual parts that would soon be assembled to create function and beauty. This is where my love for manufacturing began. To me as a little kid, it all just seemed like magic.

As I got older, I eventually was able to help out here and there. Still curious as ever, I remember having a non-stop supply of questions, each answer birthing several more. Most follow-up questions continued until the adult answering simply didn't know themselves. As a parent of four boys now, I feel sorry for those poor souls subjected to my interrogations.

But the unanswered questions always stayed with me into adulthood. I remember there being a massive room filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of flat wooden blocks, each with a different assortment of metal guides. Every one had a number written on it in magic marker.

I asked my dad to explain what they were for.

"These are called jigs," he said.

"What's the point?" I followed up immediately.

He explained that for each product that gets made, the parts that need to be assembled together have to be bent in specific ways according to either the client's specifications or the existing drawing of that part. For every new component they'd never made before, they first needed to create essentially a tool—a jig—to assist in creating this unique part, which they would typically produce thousands of after creating the tooling.

My never-ending parade of questions continued: "Okay, but why are there so many, and why have some looked like they haven't been touched in years?"

He explained that clients sometimes reordered the same parts, and since they saved each jig, it allowed them to avoid recreating them.

"What percentage of all these jigs never get used again?" I pressed.

"The majority," he replied, which finally ended my interrogation.

"That's really dumb," I said bluntly. "There's no other way?"

"Not that I know of," he answered with a shrug.

The Assembly Line Experience

Eventually I was old enough to earn the privilege of being trusted to work on one of those cool-looking, huge, dangerous machines on the assembly line. The first phrase that comes to mind is "careful what you wish for." As an early teenager looking to earn money any way I could, I would sit at this machine that essentially clamped a brass rod into the holder with the press of a foot pedal. I would then take the handle and bring it close to the opening of the 5000rpm spinning chuck and let it grab the brass rod, slowly pulling it in while it cut perfect threads into the end. Then I pulled the handle in the opposite direction to extract the rod, pressed the pedal again to release the air-assisted clamp, pulled the rod out, and dropped it into the bucket.

It was thrilling at first until I realized how many needed to be done. 3,000. I took the challenge in stride, practicing my technique to remove milliseconds off each hand action, equating to minutes saved overall, and finally finished proudly—only to be told that the other side needed to be done as well. My dad always drilled into my head a lesson he believed to be of upmost importance, "Time is money". 6,000 operations probably took me about 5-6 hours, and I remember seeing the other daily employees sitting there day after day, 8 hours per day on the same machine. How? Why? It just seemed so dehumanizing that I couldn't understand why no one questioned it. How could anyone be satisfied with this type of work for their entire lives? "It's just the way it is," followed by a shrug.

The NPC Paradox

I began to see how those jigs were more than just manufacturing tools—they were the perfect metaphor for how most people approach thinking itself.

This is what I call the NPC paradox: the tendency for people to follow fixed patterns of thought without question, like non-player characters (NPCs) in a video game, who execute pre-set actions without true awareness or independent thought.

Consider: Each jig was created for a specific purpose, used briefly, and then stored away indefinitely—taking up space but rarely revisited. The efficiency came from having workers who didn't question the process, who simply applied the jig as designed and moved to the next task. To question the system would slow production. To suggest alternatives would disrupt the established order.

Isn't this exactly how most of us approach thinking? We create mental "jigs"—fixed patterns of thought—to efficiently produce the same conclusions over and over. We pride ourselves on the speed of our mental assembly lines rather than questioning why we're manufacturing the same thoughts repeatedly.

The transformation from that question-asking child into a worker who simply accepts the jig represents the very paradox we're exploring: As we mature, society rewards us for using pre-made patterns rather than creating new ones. We trade curiosity for efficiency, questioning for certainty.

A Different Approach

My passion for 3D printing emerged partly as a rebellion against this system. Instead of needing a warehouse full of single-purpose jigs, a 3D printer can create infinite variations on demand. It doesn't care if you want something that's never been made before. It approaches each task with the same openness, whether printing one unit or a thousand. Where jigs are rigid and singular in purpose, 3D printing embodies flexibility and innovation—approaching each new task with a blank slate rather than a pre-made mold.

This is precisely the difference between an NPC mindset and actual thinking. The NPC follows the jig without question, executing the same pattern regardless of context. The thinker, like the 3D printer, builds custom solutions based on first principles rather than pre-programmed responses.

So many of us are proud of our mental jigs. It took time, money, sweat and possibly tears to create their tooling. We display them prominently, not realizing they're taking up valuable mental space while rarely being used for anything truly meaningful. We've forgotten how to approach problems with a child's curiosity—with that relentless "why?" that refuses to accept "that's just how it's done" as an answer.

The Robotic Job Paradox

Furthermore, the common concern I've witnessed regarding the additive manufacturing revolution is fear and panic, worrying that it will take away jobs that these hardworking people break their backs for in order to put food on the table for their families.

These jobs shouldn't have been done by humans in the first place.

Even though I understand this is all they know, why are we opposing robots doing jobs that only robots should have been doing in the first place? I am confident that even just starting a new career, the ability for them to focus on a job being human will yield them a happier, more fulfilling life.

The irony of outrage, protest, or even opposition in the previous paragraph is a paradox in itself. To defend their robotic dehumanizing job is to say that they can't possibly function as a human being put in any other opportunities. Why do we do this? Because these jobs have been all we have known to exist and there is no known jig to use in the future.

This isn't to dismiss the real fear of job loss, but to challenge why we cling to dehumanizing work instead of reimagining what meaningful employment could look like. The real message should instead be a focus on how best to help transition from these robotic jobs that they are so efficient in and figure out how these specific skills could be a strength for them in a new job. The rally cry should even be a plead or charge to create new jobs that don't currently exist that they can excel at given these uniquely developed skills. Anything but the irony of fearing robots taking over a job that treats a human like a robot.

It only reveals the true paradox:

We're afraid of losing what makes us robotic, not what makes us human.

The tragedy isn't just that we build mental jigs—it's that we defend them even when they no longer serve us.

If we want to break free from the NPC paradox, we need to stop defending the jigs and start dismantling them—one question at a time.

Oh, I get it, you're Jesus Christ

My tendency to question everything wasn't limited to factories. When I was around 7 years old, my beautiful grandmother took me to church every Sunday. Like many kids, I struggled to understand the abstract concepts being presented.

During "children's corner," where kids sat in a circle listening to Bible stories, I felt genuinely confused by something that seemed obvious to everyone else. Not understanding the roles in the church hierarchy, I raised my hand with what felt like a reasonable question.

"Who are you?" I asked the pastor.

When he didn't understand, I clarified: "Are you God?"

He laughed kindly and said, "No, son."

"Oh, I get it! You're Jesus Christ," I concluded, trying to make sense of who would have the authority to teach us about such important matters.

Again he laughed and said no.

"Oh, but you know him, right?" I asked, following what seemed to me a perfectly logical train of thought.

When he said no to this too, I was genuinely baffled. "I don't get it," I admitted.

I wasn't questioning the value of faith—my grandmother's belief brought her genuine joy that I could plainly see. What confused me was that the same curiosity that seemed natural to me wasn't evident in the other children or even all the adults that I assumed knew it all. They accepted what they were told without the questions that were bursting inside me.

Looking back, I realize this wasn't because I was somehow special. Rather, my brain simply hadn't yet been trained to accept pre-made answers without examination. I hadn't yet learned that asking certain questions might disrupt the social script, that sometimes conformity is rewarded more than curiosity.

The Science Behind the NPC Mindset

While my experiences in manufacturing provided a clear metaphor for automated thinking, the NPC paradox extends far beyond factory floors. As it turns out, science backs up what I've been seeing all along—most people spend their days on mental autopilot, just like those assembly line workers.

The Evidence Is All Around Us

When I first started looking into this, I expected to find maybe a study or two that would back up my gut feeling. What I found instead blew me away—the evidence is overwhelming. Across neuroscience, psychology, and organizational behavior, the research all points to the same conclusion: we're naturally "cognitive misers."

Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kahneman calls this the dual process theory. Our brains run on two systems: System 1 (fast, automatic, doesn't require much effort) and System 2 (slow, analytical, takes work). The problem? We're wired to default to whatever takes the least effort. Our brains, like the rest of our bodies, are designed to conserve energy. Thinking hard burns calories—so we avoid it when we can.

That's why in Solomon Asch's classic experiments, about 74% of participants went along with a group's clearly wrong answer at least once. These weren't stupid people—they were just following the path of least resistance. Sound familiar? It's exactly what I saw in my dad's factory. Follow the jig, don't ask questions, keep the production line moving.

In corporate settings, researchers Alvesson and Spicer even coined a term for this: "functional stupidity." It's when employees just do what they're told without critical thinking. They follow procedures and check boxes whether it makes sense or not. It keeps things running smoothly in the short term, but kills innovation. It's like having a warehouse full of outdated jigs that nobody questions.

Not All Hope Is Lost

But here's the thing—we're not actually stuck this way. Those same researchers found that humans have an incredible capacity for flexible, creative thinking when given the right circumstances.

Our brains aren't fixed—they can change and adapt throughout our lives. Neuroscientists call this "neuroplasticity." Even older adults can grow new neural connections when they learn something new or face novel challenges. It's like 3D printing new mental jigs on demand rather than being stuck with the old ones.

Education makes a massive difference too. In one study in the UK, 9-10 year old kids who participated in weekly philosophy discussions showed two months' extra progress in reading and math compared to the control group. They weren't learning more facts—they were learning to question assumptions and think for themselves. They were learning not to be NPCs.

What's even more fascinating is what happens with well-functioning groups. When you get a diverse team together and actually listen to all perspectives (instead of just following the highest-paid person's opinion), the collective intelligence can outperform even the smartest individual. Francis Galton discovered this back in 1906 at a county fair, when the average guess of a crowd about an ox's weight was spot-on—more accurate than any single expert.

The Human-AI Connection

This brings me back to my point about automation and AI. According to McKinsey, only about 5% of jobs can be completely automated away. Most will evolve to incorporate AI tools, with humans handling the creative and adaptive parts while algorithms do the repetitive work.

The irony is perfect: The jobs most at risk are exactly the ones where people are already acting like robots—following mental jigs without questioning them. So why do we panic about machines taking these jobs? It's because we've been taught that following the script is what brings security. We've been trained to be good NPCs, and we're terrified of abandoning that identity.

History shows us that humans have always adapted to new technologies. From the Industrial Revolution to the computer age, technological shifts have ultimately created more jobs than they destroy. The future will belong to human-AI teams—not to AI alone and definitely not to humans who refuse to engage their uniquely human capacity for creative thinking.

The Real Danger

The real threat isn't machines making humans obsolete—it's humans choosing to remain obsolete by refusing to tap into what makes us human in the first place: our ability to question, create, and adapt.

This brings me back to those thousands of wooden jigs gathering dust in my dad's factory. The tragedy wasn't just the wasted wood and metal—it was the wasted human potential. Each worker who accepted "that's just how it's done" as the final answer represents a mind that could have been creating, innovating, and solving problems that actually matter.

I'm not saying the transition will be easy. But defending jobs that treat humans like robots isn't the answer. The future belongs to those who recognize their mental jigs and consciously choose which ones to keep, which ones to throw away, and when to 3D print something entirely new.

The Paradox Framework Applied

Revelation Layer

The NPC paradox creates cognitive dissonance by revealing how most people—including ourselves—follow predetermined mental patterns rather than engaging in original thought. This challenges our self-image as independent thinkers and disrupts our comfortable belief that our thoughts are truly our own. This discomfort opens a window to see how our thinking itself follows predictable templates.

Recognition Layer

This paradox helps you recognize specific patterns:

How you use mental "jigs" to produce the same thoughts repeatedly

The discomfort that arises when questioning foundational assumptions

How opinions on complex topics often align perfectly with identity groups

The social scripts that determine appropriate questions and acceptable curiosity

Reflection Layer

These patterns likely developed from:

Evolutionary advantages of cognitive efficiency and social conformity

Educational systems that reward memorization over critical thinking

The brain's need to conserve energy by creating mental shortcuts

Social penalties for questioning shared assumptions

Reprogramming Layer

With this awareness, new possibilities emerge:

Approaching complex topics with genuine curiosity rather than predetermined positions

Identifying and questioning your own mental jigs and automatic thought patterns

Seeking viewpoints that challenge rather than confirm your existing beliefs

Creating environments that reward original thinking rather than conformity

Developing the capacity to think beyond the scripts you've been given

Select a strongly held belief and formulate your best case for it. Write this down in detail.

Without referencing external sources, develop the strongest possible counter-argument against your own position. Push yourself to be as persuasive as possible.

Rate how compelling you find your counter-argument compared to your original position (1-10 scale).

Examine any emotional resistance you encountered during the exercise. Where did you feel defensive or uncomfortable?

Reflect on whether new insights emerged from this process. Did you discover blind spots in your original thinking?

Reflection Questions:

What emotions arose when arguing against your own position?

Did you discover legitimate points in the counter-argument that you hadn't considered before?

How did it feel to temporarily step outside your established mental "jig"?

If you found this exercise difficult, what specific obstacles prevented you from fully engaging with opposing viewpoints?

This exercise helps reveal the mental "jigs" that limit your thinking and shows how emotionally attached we become to established thought patterns—a key indicator of automated rather than creative thinking.

***The title of this chapter isn’t meant to insult or dehumanize anyone—it’s designed to provoke thought. The NPC Paradox is simply a way to challenge you to examine your own patterns of thinking and ask if they’re truly yours or just scripts you've been following without question. The goal isn’t to label people but to break the loop of automated thinking and inspire you to think more freely, creatively, and independently.