requiem for an avatar

I don't think I knew you Zorn, but goodbye.

I had a similar set of reasons behind bowing out of raiding/playing WoW. To be honest, the time I spent playing is now spent aimlessly "dicking around." Sure, I've used plenty of the 7-11 raid time during the week to do work, write ideas down, paint house, party like a rock star, snort blow, blow money, make money, smoke pot, cook food, drink beer, hang with buds, do shots, stare at chicks, dodge bullets, read comments under the yahoo news blurbs, debate Zionism, entertain conspiracies, discuss algorithms of oppression, apply for jobs, retool resume, stare at CV, ponder the future, consider suicide, fantasize about chicks I was too chickenshit to ask on dates, deliver one-liners, take naps, grade papers, enter class, discuss class, write jokes, do HITs on Mturk, lose my ability to do HITs on Mturk, blog, date girls, date myself, play flash games, dominate the world in Civ1, lean against the wall, weep, sweep, mop, do push-ups, ride my bike, walk to the liquor store, wave at my neighbors, act discrete, force people logging in here to be my audience, forcing others to be my audience, screaming, singing, fantasizing, dancing alone, jerking off, etc.

The game has it's own justifiable structure: time killed in game amounts to some tangible, albeit digital, gain. You gain faction, you gain gold, you earn gear, you learn fights, you overcome challenges. Man, if only my life had a progress bar at the bottom of my retinal HUD. Alas, it does not. A stack of read books surely doesn't have that same sense of 'leveling' that the game environment creates.

So I sit on the outside looking in. I sit on the sidelines cheering you on. I visit newegg and piece together comps. like I go to wowhead and experiment with talent builds.

I justify playing like I justify not playing--neither really stacks up. Hell, I'm not sure a wife, kids, family, or security clearance and 'burn after reading' instructions would justify not entertaining the idea of playing this game forever. Maybe losing my arms playing with rocket fuel would...

The game can be fun, the kids are all right, socializing under the cloak of an avatar is intoxicating, earning reputation is cool; yes, it gets old. I called the sustenance of this game like eating marshmallow Peeps--oh so sweet but leaving you empty. I take that back. I think the game invites you to the challenge and once you've met the majority of the challenges the mystique fades--for some anyway. You bide your time, a new patch comes out, and you start all over with new or retooled talents, new dungeons, new factions, new gear, new challenges. To see the endless repetition in this game as a reason to quit invites a similar critique of one's life, career, and obligations to family, friends, flock, or country. None of them end, and a lot of the rituals we engage in to fulfill our duties to friends, family, coworkers, bosses, country are repetitive, endlessly repetitive.

So we drink, drug, shoot silhouettes, shoot up, drop out, fight, fuck, scream, sing, play guitar, drums, or rub one out.

I had a mystical experience once on pot. I witnessed the death of family and pets and mourned them all. I cried, rocked back and forth, and sang along to the Pavement CD that I had put on before turning the lights out. For a long time thereafter my life had significance, my actions had purpose. Instead of dicking around and hating on myself I told myself I could do anything. I turned my D in Trig. to an A in analytic geometry. I aced every exam. I went to college and aced all of that crap. I learned a lot, found permanence in molecular bonds, and mistook it for more mysticism.

Then I had another mystical experience, once again fueled by pot. I got high and saw an ST Voyager episode, Deadlock, and once again decided that school was the wrong idea. I wanted to be a writer. I had this huge sci-fidea. When I approached my advisor to discuss next year's courses I told her that I was done going to school here. Of course this lead to a huge intervention on the part of my family. I conceded and finished my degree, and I'm still paying off my loans. Some of the people who motivated me are dead now. I never honored my grandfather's wish to dance with the bride at my wedding. I never married.

That was my last mystical experience. I was 19. Now I'm 33 and the reality principle's peristaltic undulations move me along.