Kaze
11-18-2006, 05:56 PM
This was originally supposed to be a kind of biographical/analytic story based around the main character, a guy which I named Chris87, and the developing internet culture. I had called it My World of Warcraft because the game was a perfect example of how (some) people gave up their normal lives so they could spend their time in a virtual enviroment. I decided to scrap the idea later on, but who knows, I might start working on it again.
This is, of course, easier to understand if you've actually played WoW, but if you haven't, it doesn't make much difference.
The Prologue
The computer screen flashed several times just after Chris87 had clicked on the exit button and found himself looking at his heavily modified desktop. The task bar was placed vertically somewhere near the right edge of his screen, right under a virtual alarm clock showing a countdown: -00:05 min. Chris87 smiled and put his cursor on it, pressing the right mouse button, and then closing his eyes for a moment as he clicked on the ‘reset’ option in the small menu that had appeared. The timer changed into a blinking 00:00.
The taskbar began to roar with flashes and bell ringing as the people on his MSN list had started sending messages through like madmen. Chris87 was never so popular. He clicked on the MSN task segment on his taskbar, and then he moved his cursor upwards until it reached ‘file’. He scrolled down the newly visible menu and chose exit. All the flashes and ringing disappeared instantly. Chris87 thought is was the smartest thing he had done in weeks; disconnecting himself was better now that it ever was. After nine months of WoW he felt like being born again; the only difference was that this time he wouldn’t get to live for another 19 years.
He put his cursor on what was supposed to be the old ‘START’ button on normal taskbars. On his it read: LOGIN. He pressed the ctrl+alt+delete buttons and another window appeared. Chris87 quickly selected the shutdown option. He sighed as the applications that were running were being ended and his operating system’s .dll files were being closed. God bless Bill Gates, he thought ironically. The screen blacked out and his machine’s Intel microprocessor stopped spinning, ending the buzzing sound he had grown accustomed to.
He got off his chair and slowly walked to the door. His room was full of posters of his favourite games: WoW, Final Fantasy, Diablo. He put on a pair of sports shoes, the Reeboks his mom had bought for him, but that he had never bothered to wear. He walked down the stairs leading to the rest of his house. Chris87 hesitated a few moments before he chose which way to go towards the garage; his house was suddenly becoming the Lower Blackrock Spire. He found it after a few minutes of roaming around the house. He opened the door and turned on the lights, turning his view upon his bike, a relic from 5 years ago; it still looked great though, shiny and new. Like Madonna’s song, he thought, and then he started humming ‘Like a virgin’ while opening the garage. Let’s see if there’s gonna be any durability loss. Hope there’s a priest around.*Gulps*
Chris87 rode that bike like it was his palomino mount in World of Warcraft, hitting the first speeding car in sight. Too bad there were no priests around; at least not the kind he would have wanted.
This is, of course, easier to understand if you've actually played WoW, but if you haven't, it doesn't make much difference.
The Prologue
The computer screen flashed several times just after Chris87 had clicked on the exit button and found himself looking at his heavily modified desktop. The task bar was placed vertically somewhere near the right edge of his screen, right under a virtual alarm clock showing a countdown: -00:05 min. Chris87 smiled and put his cursor on it, pressing the right mouse button, and then closing his eyes for a moment as he clicked on the ‘reset’ option in the small menu that had appeared. The timer changed into a blinking 00:00.
The taskbar began to roar with flashes and bell ringing as the people on his MSN list had started sending messages through like madmen. Chris87 was never so popular. He clicked on the MSN task segment on his taskbar, and then he moved his cursor upwards until it reached ‘file’. He scrolled down the newly visible menu and chose exit. All the flashes and ringing disappeared instantly. Chris87 thought is was the smartest thing he had done in weeks; disconnecting himself was better now that it ever was. After nine months of WoW he felt like being born again; the only difference was that this time he wouldn’t get to live for another 19 years.
He put his cursor on what was supposed to be the old ‘START’ button on normal taskbars. On his it read: LOGIN. He pressed the ctrl+alt+delete buttons and another window appeared. Chris87 quickly selected the shutdown option. He sighed as the applications that were running were being ended and his operating system’s .dll files were being closed. God bless Bill Gates, he thought ironically. The screen blacked out and his machine’s Intel microprocessor stopped spinning, ending the buzzing sound he had grown accustomed to.
He got off his chair and slowly walked to the door. His room was full of posters of his favourite games: WoW, Final Fantasy, Diablo. He put on a pair of sports shoes, the Reeboks his mom had bought for him, but that he had never bothered to wear. He walked down the stairs leading to the rest of his house. Chris87 hesitated a few moments before he chose which way to go towards the garage; his house was suddenly becoming the Lower Blackrock Spire. He found it after a few minutes of roaming around the house. He opened the door and turned on the lights, turning his view upon his bike, a relic from 5 years ago; it still looked great though, shiny and new. Like Madonna’s song, he thought, and then he started humming ‘Like a virgin’ while opening the garage. Let’s see if there’s gonna be any durability loss. Hope there’s a priest around.*Gulps*
Chris87 rode that bike like it was his palomino mount in World of Warcraft, hitting the first speeding car in sight. Too bad there were no priests around; at least not the kind he would have wanted.