Now that I have signed my soul away to the devil and become an active blogger [ from my own volition, may I add ]. I’ve just decided to do something nice and relaxed today while I listen to some mellow jazz. I swear I’m not fifty years old. What’s wrong with liking some Brubeck? Or rock with trumpets? Yes, that is a genre that I quite enjoy. That nice and relaxed thing I’m on about is some more light I need to shed on my past. Well, part of it. Should I be worried that I’ll run out of material from my past soon? Eh, I’ll just grow some dreadlocks, buy a penny skateboard, rock a surfer tee and just roll with it. Do you feel these positive vibes flowing from me? If you don’t make sure to reposition your furniture to get the maximized chi effect*. Today, I’m going to be looking at the origin of my ‘Rain’ persona which is pretty much dead and buried right now. I was basically reborn like a phoenix when I decided to not call this blog, ‘Rainy Day Thoughts’.
It all started on a dismal day in summer. I, being a moody and edgy teen decided to do something moody and edgy. I purchased myself a game by the name of ‘Minecraft’. The social life killer. The great equalizer. Maybe not the latter, now that I think about it. I happened to be a bit too old for a block game for kids but I’m pretty sure everyone has a Minecraft phase… I was just a late bloomer. Now, when it came to picking names I was seriously a professional. I should be hired by some company. I will even demonstrate my prowess! RacoonLover69. MyFerrari420. There you go. Those are some stunners that are sure to attract some attention. Knock yourselves out. My brain came up with a really stellar name that day. I looked outside and seeing it was raining took the name ‘Rain’. Since I was also omnipotent, all knowing and lived on the summit of Olympus, putting ‘God’ at the end wasn’t such a big leap. What could possibly tie together an already perfect name? The ‘X’. Mostly because anything with an X is automatically the most extreme out of all extremes. Why do you think it’s called the X games? Point made. So with twenty euros from my parents, I set off on a journey that has enslaved so many souls in the past. I took my first steps into that blocky world.
You know what isn’t common knowledge? That’s a rhetorical question, idiot. I mean, my dearest beloved viewer. What isn’t common knowledge, is how toxic a group of ten-year-olds can be in a virtual world where there are no rules except to not curse in chat. I made this revelation after I had graduated from the puny open world to the gritty servers [ I only refer to it as puny because I was a terrible builder and player ]. Here’s where my name started to work against me. My addictive personality and need to be the best didn’t exactly help in matters. You see the first server I arrived at was a Factions server. [ definition– a server where you compete for land basically turning teens into virtual mobsters ]. There were these tiers that you could buy there for ridiculous prices and one happened to be the God tier which basically only granted you flight. For fifty euros. Is you heart hurting yet? My logic went as follows,
‘What sort of God would I be if I couldn’t fly in-game?’
I wish I was lying. This was really just a deep hole which I had pretty much made a mile deeper by shoving my money at the game in a Fry-esqe manner yelling ‘SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY’. I had really just set myself up to keep on thinking about the waste of money that it would be if I quit. Do you want to know where I drew the line with that server? When I wrote out a CV in-game about my Minecraft expertise and sent it to the leader of a clan. Which was certainly cringy enough. I got accepted but was only used for my base finding skills and my manual labor. Not wanting to be chained down by some kid who would probably grow up to be a drug baron, I fled in search of greener fields. Greener servers, actually. That makes no sense.
Which I found. But, of course, I wouldn’t be Matt if I didn’t repeat the same mistakes a million times. I winded up on a prison server which seems a bit ironic seeing as how I was running away from digital shackles. I think I’m going to pat myself on the back for that one. Good work me. Anyway, guess who found another God tier on this server. That’s right. The only way I managed to get the money for this one was convincing my parents I was setting up a virtual business. Obviously, the first step on your kids paths to Harvard. Now, this server was a bit more interesting. A moderator on the server [ definition– a sad person who watches the chat, searching for little brats bullying the clientele ] saw a fourteen-year-old on the server and recruited me as a mod because why else would I be here? I already felt guilty enough playing as it was so I accepted so I didn’t seem like a weird little hermit child. I’m not going to lie to you… I didn’t have a notion what I was doing. I had all these commands and no idea how to use them. Literally, look up Minecraft Mod commands on Wikipedia but I must warn you to have a paramedic on standby. What I did get was a fancy title and the adoration from all the ‘peasants’ on the server. I’m not going to lie, I would be absolutely terrible with any form of power, considering ruling a bunch of ignorant tweens made my day but I digress.
I managed to break off my relationship with the game after a year and a half. It is probably worse than cocaine. Which I don’t know a thing about. I just know some people call it Charlie. Or am I on the wrong track…? How prejudice! You thought I do drugs because of my newly acquired dreadlocks, penny skateboard, and surfer tee? How insensitive. [ What a link. I think another self-congratulation is in order ] . The reason I stopped playing is because I snapped to my senses and realised what I was doing. Which probably should have been self-evident. The server manager was also an asshole. But, of course, it was my strong willpower that ended it, not him … I should really become a better liar. Anyway, I packed my bags and headed onwards onto more addictive things. There will always be that cubic siren residing on this very computer, however. Urging me to come home.
~Matt
*may not work as intended
deepsarchasm 