Ling's Website...It's A Roller Coaster Ride

◊ Tragic Downfall of the Disillusioned Gamer ◊

Addicted to Ragnarok Online for over a year...this is my story...

"Move away before the Firewall hits you!" the assassin yelled out. I moved my priestess to the left, only to be immobilized by the wizard's Frost Nova attack. Crap, now our team is done for. Standing there helplessly motionless and unable to heal my comrades, I watched as one by one the assassin and hunter fell to the ground. PVP - a.k.a. player versus player- tournaments had been going on all week on this private gaming server. The prize for the winning team in this tournament? Inclusion into the lottery for one of three rare MVP cards, objects dropped by hard-to-kill monsters and useful when compounded into a character's weapons and armor.

Seldom dropped from these monsters, the cards offered players the chance of promotion to an elite status. So it came as no surprise when people rushed to level up - a.k.a. make their characters stronger - the week before this tournament. Even possessing one of these cards allowed good reason to brag. But working a character and making him stronger in any game requires a good amount of time, and the higher level of the character, the harder and longer it takes to level up. I spent hours clicking the mouse and staring at the computer screen at my cute pixel character as homework lay neglected in the corner of the room, irritated parents screamed from below, and cold meals sat abandoned on the kitchen table. The desire to make my character stronger distracted me from other responsibilities. The ringing of the phone surprised me when suddenly booted from the game.

"Where the hell have you been?" a voice from the other end demanded. "I've been constantly calling your house the past four hours, and the line has been busy, busy, busy."

She flipped out when she found out I had been online playing "the game" the entire time.

That was two weeks ago. A couple of weeks later, I still sat in front of my computer, religiously logging on to say hello to fellow players and then trudging off to one of the dungeons to level my priestess. It had become an unhealthy obsession, and like a smoker addicted to cigarettes, I found it hard to quit. I felt proud to be distinguished in the forums as the person with the most pets, and I had a comfortable amount of zeny (game currency) to use when exploring people's shops. Emotions now became intertwined with the game, for though these were merely pixels walking around and using spells, the people behind the actions were real. With the peoples’ conversations, they amused me; they angered me; they caused me to reflect on life. I learned their stories as they learned mine, and I felt comfortable in this miniature online community.

The Tuesday of the following week, a MVP card finally dropped for me after several killing sessions. The Tuesday of that same week, I failed my chemistry midterm at school.

As I stared at the card, now compounded into a brand new dagger, recurring images of the exam grade meddled with any joy I felt -"real life" versus "online life." For once, I just sat quietly in town and observed, completely removed from any interaction with others.

The general conversation in town involved character builds; some spent hours testing out new defensive or offensive builds in the PVP room and then sat in town boasting about his findings. A few days ago, this conversation would have interested me, for despite several weeks of playing, I still had no experience with character builds. Now I stared with disinterested eyes. What did you get out of spending so many hours devising such a build? Yes, maybe temporary fame on the server after a PVP fight, but what did that fame really mean? Or perhaps the more important question: did it mean anything at all?

People made the same jokes in town; the same people laughed at the jokes (or laughed as best as they could with the tiny pixel faces - emoticons - available). Nothing changed - nothing ever changed. A guy who belonged to my guild walked over to where I sat – he "kissed" me with the /kis2 emoticon and typed, "Hmmm...tastes like strawberries." Yes, it would be remarkable if technology really did allow you to taste a girl's lips 3000 miles away. These once flattering statements appeared downright absurd as I watched through a new perspective, the perspective of someone who had once again grasped a hold on reality.

So a rare card had just dropped during my hunt. So? So I had several million zeny in the bank. So? So I won the tournament last night. So? So I can kill monsters at super-fast rates. So?

What was the point? Was there any purpose in playing so faithfully, any purpose in trying to attain a prosperous end result in such a fantastic world?

For the first time in a while, I opened my eyes. I exited out of the game, turned off the computer, and took a long-deserved nap.


	◊ Photos \|◊\| Entertainment \|◊\| Stories \|◊\| Main Page ◊ ◊ Tragic Downfall of the Disillusioned Gamer ◊ Addicted to Ragnarok Online* for over a year...this is my story...* "Move away before the Firewall hits you!" the assassin yelled out. I moved my priestess to the left, only to be immobilized by the wizard's Frost Nova attack. Crap, now our team is done for. Standing there helplessly motionless and unable to heal my comrades, I watched as one by one the assassin and hunter fell to the ground. PVP - a.k.a. player versus player- tournaments had been going on all week on this private gaming server. The prize for the winning team in this tournament? Inclusion into the lottery for one of three rare MVP cards, objects dropped by hard-to-kill monsters and useful when compounded into a character's weapons and armor. Seldom dropped from these monsters, the cards offered players the chance of promotion to an elite status. So it came as no surprise when people rushed to level up - a.k.a. make their characters stronger - the week before this tournament. Even possessing one of these cards allowed good reason to brag. But working a character and making him stronger in any game requires a good amount of time, and the higher level of the character, the harder and longer it takes to level up. I spent hours clicking the mouse and staring at the computer screen at my cute pixel character as homework lay neglected in the corner of the room, irritated parents screamed from below, and cold meals sat abandoned on the kitchen table. The desire to make my character stronger distracted me from other responsibilities. The ringing of the phone surprised me when suddenly booted from the game. "Where the hell have you been?" a voice from the other end demanded. "I've been constantly calling your house the past four hours, and the line has been busy, busy, busy." She flipped out when she found out I had been online playing "the game" the entire time. That was two weeks ago. A couple of weeks later, I still sat in front of my computer, religiously logging on to say hello to fellow players and then trudging off to one of the dungeons to level my priestess. It had become an unhealthy obsession, and like a smoker addicted to cigarettes, I found it hard to quit. I felt proud to be distinguished in the forums as the person with the most pets, and I had a comfortable amount of zeny (game currency) to use when exploring people's shops. Emotions now became intertwined with the game, for though these were merely pixels walking around and using spells, the people behind the actions were real. With the peoples’ conversations, they amused me; they angered me; they caused me to reflect on life. I learned their stories as they learned mine, and I felt comfortable in this miniature online community. The Tuesday of the following week, a MVP card finally dropped for me after several killing sessions. The Tuesday of that same week, I failed my chemistry midterm at school. As I stared at the card, now compounded into a brand new dagger, recurring images of the exam grade meddled with any joy I felt -"real life" versus "online life." For once, I just sat quietly in town and observed, completely removed from any interaction with others. The general conversation in town involved character builds; some spent hours testing out new defensive or offensive builds in the PVP room and then sat in town boasting about his findings. A few days ago, this conversation would have interested me, for despite several weeks of playing, I still had no experience with character builds. Now I stared with disinterested eyes. What did you get out of spending so many hours devising such a build? Yes, maybe temporary fame on the server after a PVP fight, but what did that fame really mean? Or perhaps the more important question: did it mean anything at all? People made the same jokes in town; the same people laughed at the jokes (or laughed as best as they could with the tiny pixel faces - emoticons - available). Nothing changed - nothing ever changed. A guy who belonged to my guild walked over to where I sat – he "kissed" me with the /kis2 emoticon and typed, "Hmmm...tastes like strawberries." Yes, it would be remarkable if technology really did allow you to taste a girl's lips 3000 miles away. These once flattering statements appeared downright absurd as I watched through a new perspective, the perspective of someone who had once again grasped a hold on reality. So a rare card had just dropped during my hunt. So? So I had several million zeny in the bank. So? So I won the tournament last night. So? So I can kill monsters at super-fast rates. So? What was the point? Was there any purpose in playing so faithfully, any purpose in trying to attain a prosperous end result in such a fantastic world? For the first time in a while, I opened my eyes. I exited out of the game, turned off the computer, and took a long-deserved nap.

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◊ Tragic Downfall of the Disillusioned Gamer ◊