It’s all bullshit.
One big fat pile of bullshit.
If you’ve ever sunk more then a few months into an MMO you know what I’m talking about.
You buy the game, and you’re all excited to play with all your friends! It’s going great! A couple weeks fly off the calander as you waste your time with work cause all you can think about is playing with your friends when you get home! Then finally, you’ve hit the peak of the game!
You’ve done the things, slayed the whatever, and saved the land.
This is your Destiny.
Now you have a biggest problem–The Grind.
Here is the real game. All over again. Ready to show you it’s true face.
To be a black hole sucking away all your time. But you’re playing with friends, right? So what does it matter? You keep convincing yourself it’s fun, so you keep playing. Then you’ve hit the top of the food chain.
You’re the hot shit. You’ve got the gear. You did the raids. Now what?
You keep playing. Start a new character. Keep up with the current one, but one by one your friends stop playing for various reasons. Maybe they bought a game you don’t care for. Maybe they got bored faster then you did. Whatever. You put your time into this, so you’re staying. You keep going, but pretty soon you’re all alone. You try to make friends with random strangers all over the world, and if you’ve had my luck it’s better to go solo.
You make a reasonable relationship based around your like of this game. You make silly internet related jokes at one another for cheap laughs (the worse the better, amirite?). Maybe you’re comfortable sharing your real life name. Maybe. But if you’re like me this always goes bad, quick.
They seem cool at first, like I said, you have this common interest. Then it hits, they open up. You’re doing strike together and you die. Then, like straight out of a war story, they come flying over your dead corpse in a fiery explosion of a combination of cool-downs blown and guns-a-blazing all while screaming, “Nooooo! You killed my friend!”
Now you’re embarrassed–you’re 8 again and your mom is screaming at you in front of your friends–the cold sweat washes over you as you stumble to think of a reason you have to leave. Then you wait a day. Log in hoping they’re not online–yes, they are not–time to delete them and pray they’ve latched onto more then just you so you have a chance to slip out of their internet life unnoticed.
Then, as the trauma calms… with just three letters (and a fat slap in the wallet), it gets worse.
They promise one thing, very rarely deliver on schedule. You may convince your friends to return, but it’s unlikely. Now back to what they keep telling you isn’t square one, but you know, deep down, it is. You’re left alone. Again. This is your Destiny.