It’s a Nice Place to Visit (Long)
Dave on July 9th, 2008
Back in 2001, technically, I lived in Ohio, but I spent most of my time in Norrath. It’s been nearly six years since I’ve gone anywhere near it, but for about two years, you couldn’t drag me away from EverQuest. I played a wizard, and I was bad ass. Fireballs, ice comets, teleportation, levitation — you name it, I could do it. I stopped playing shortly after my daughter was born, partly — ok, mainly — because it was threatening to wreck my marriage. See, here’s the thing about Norrath. While Ohio was lovely, it couldn’t really compete in the “wandering creatures to destroy with super powers” department. The most exciting adventure Ohio offered me on a Saturday morning was mowing the lawn. Given the choice, I’d much rather head to Lower Guk and fry a few undead frogs.
Around 2003, I handed over my account to a friend to play. This was harder than I had imagined it would be (see how hard — make a list of everything you’ve done for two years, including all the friends you’ve made and stuff you’ve bought. Now give those friends and that stuff to a friend. Walk away whistling.), but it was important for me to move beyond the game and pay attention to my actual life. While I hadn’t played for about a year at that point, I still had the occassional itch, and all I had to do to scratch it was load the game back up and pay for a month — voila, instant crack pipe. Giving the whole account away took that option away. And it worked. I honestly hadn’t thought about the game at all for about four years.
Until Monday. Monday I read that, in an effort to suck back the poor fools who had escaped, EverQuest was offering a free download of the game and free gameplay for two months to anyone with an inactive account. Somehow, I remembered my passwords and looked at the account history. Turns out my friend hadn’t changed the password after all, and he hadn’t played since around 2005. I got a little itchy. I downloaded the game. I waited patiently as it patched and updated. Finally, I logged in. There was my wizard, bad ass as ever. I found myself in a zone that hadn’t existed when I played, and I noticed quickly that my friend had changed my wizard’s last name from Stormbringer to Flameydeath. Of course, I was offended by this, so I changed it back. That problem solved, being the master of teleportation that I was, I popped myself into Greater Faydark, home of the elves. I spent hours once upon a time staring at the wizard spires that jutted up from the middle of that forest, and I caught myself getting nostalgic. I hung around a while, feeling my fingers remember exactly how to check my menus, open my spellbook, sit, stand, run . . . it was like riding a bicycle, if bicycles could hover and came with giant, magic-powered cannons. My wife was indulgent. She smiled when I shouted at familiar things, or when I remembered what some spell or other did, or when I turned a passing fairy into a smoldering pile of wings (actually, I think she genuinely enjoyed that), but I could see the pain behind it. This game had been a major battleground in our marriage, and while it wasn’t to blame for our problems, it was where I went to get away from them, and from her.
Lots of the specs have been updated on EverQuest since I last played it, and while my computer has been, too, there are always little quirks you need to work around when you load up a game that wants lots of resources. So whenever I changed zones, the game crashed. It was a minor annoyance, and I put up with it long enough to take a tour of my favorite places, but it wouldn’t do to play that way for a month. So I uninstalled EverQuest about two hours after I logged back on. My wizard is sleeping again, probably never to fry another frog or fairy, and that’s fine. But I can’t help admitting a little sadness at leaving Norrath again, even after such a short return. Familiarity probably fuels all sorts of addictions — when my computer crashed during zone changes, I felt that same little tug that I remember feeling day after day, hour after hour, six years ago, and I wasn’t strong enough to walk away back then until it was almost too late. Maybe I’ve grown up, or maybe technology conspired to make me seem as if I have, but I’ll take whatever little victories I can get. When I was done wandering down memory-pixelated lane, I went into the living room. My daughter had painted me a very pretty picture, and my wife had made dinner.
Fuck Norrath.
