Confessions of a Warcrack addict
By: Phil Safari on Aug 26 2008Phil Safari, a reluctant Candidate, must prove himself worthy to the gods by completing a Heroic Task: change 1000 lives for the better… or else! This is an episode of the philosophical sci-fi webserial, the Safaris.
As I grew more and more depressed about work and the futility of my Heroic Task, I spent more and more time playing World of Warcraft (WoW). I tried to rationalize it as just a phase, but I knew deep down that this was a lie. Jake and I were Warcrack addicts, plain and simple. We finally admitted it one day over Vent (Ventrillo, a voice-chat program commonly used by WoW players).
“WoW sucks, ” Jake exclaimed.
I laughed. “Then why do you keep playing?”
“Because I’m addicted, foo’!” Jake Sunwell was nothing if not direct. “And even though I bitch and moan about the grinds, crappy guildies, and ridiculously low drop rates, it still represents progress.”
“So WoW is a drug, a depressant. You need it, but it actually makes you feel worse.”
“Hey, I could use some drugs right now. My back is killing me…probably because I’ve been sitting in this chair long enough to leave an ass-print.”
“Yeah, I noticed; you’re always on,” I said. “I shudder to think what you must look like these days.”
“@#$% you! Don’t worry, you’ll find out when you look in the mirror pretty soon. You are my protégé.”
I laughed. “Sad but true. All this self-destruction for a piece of armor that is 2% better than the one you already have strapped on your digital self.”
“Well, no - supposedly it’s also for the team work, sense of accomplishment, and recognition that comes from downing raid bosses. But with the invention of welfare epics and badge gear, any fool can get the same quality gear with a lot less work. Honestly, there is no reason to put up with all the guild drama except the fact I ain’t got shit else to do.”
That was true enough. At this point, Jake had been unemployed for 2 months.
“Why should it matter what other people are wearing?” I asked. “The gear you have helps you accomplish your main goal: clearing raids. So what if Blizzard creates alternate ways for other people to get epic gear?”
“Because we need to stroke our epeens. How can you get off when noobs that spend one weekend AFKing BGs or a few hours per week doing 10 arena matches can have the same quality gear as you who toiled for weeks or months in raids? People don’t live in a vacuum, we have a pathological need to compare ourselves to others. That’s what people do in the real world; why would it be any different in the digital one?”
Classic Jake. Vulgar yet insightful. “Alright, alright. I get it, but all I’m saying is that you can’t control that. You might as well try to be constructive since you in this for the long haul. Let’s start with guild drama. Why do you think it happens, and is there any way to avoid it?”
“Why? Because the best WoW players are usually either immature teens or unbearable asshats. Put them on the same team that repeatedly goes into high pressure situations for drops that only satisfy a few of them at a time, add in the anonymity of the Internet, and bam! World War III. You can’t avoid it; it’s only a matter of time.”
“Wait a sec, when we were talking about the NBA Draft a few weeks ago, didn’t you say that ‘winning cures all ills?’”
“Yeah, but this ain’t the same. In basketball, winning is the ultimate goal that unifies players. In WoW, the goal ain’t to simply to clear the instance; it’s to deck yourself out. You still won’t be happy if your team is doing well, but you don’t get any drops. When self interest dominates, winning ain’t enough.”
“Okaaay…why don’t you just quit then?” I asked. “With your abilities, you could probably accomplish something if you applied the same level of intensity to real life.”
“Hahaha…no. Look, I’m a team player, a jack of all trade. I’m not great at any one thing, but I’m pretty decent at a number of things. For me to ‘accomplish something,’ as you say, I need to be part of a great team that’s doing something significant.
“Where can I get that in real life? In every job I’ve worked, people are either dumbasses or scheming, self-interested bastards. Or both. In the working world, it’s all about getting credit, and there ain’t no credit to be had for being the glue guy. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: you just haven’t found the right team. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not so cynical as to think that such a team is sheer fantasy, but I’m tired of looking for it.
“So really WoW is the only viable outlet for me. It’s a game with clear-cut rules, strategies, and progression. Tired of tanking? It’s easy to respec, create alts, or reroll. Helping the team means advancement both in content and your gear. Simply put, you get freedom and a sense of satisfaction that just aren’t readily available in real life. A lot of people I know are addicted to WoW for this same reason.”
“Dude, I need a Valium,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Hey, I know exactly how you feel, but I’m not ready to give up on life just yet.”
Jake laughed. “That’s cuz you’re still young and idealistic. When you reach a certain point in life, you pretty much know what you are and where you stand. When you get there, you’ll know what I mean.”
“Nope, I’m pretty sure I’ll keep trying until I die.” Which wasn’t too far off, I thought grimly.
“Ha! Come talk to me in a few years.”
It didn’t even take that long. A few weeks later, I was just as jaded as Jake. Like master, like apprentice.
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