When I made the decision to begin writing about one of the most significant periods of my existence thus far, little thought was given to the order in which that would take place. As a neurodivergent person, it is common for me to inhabit many timelines and headspaces simultaneously. That, however, does not make for good storytelling, and this adventure demands a very particular narrative as accompaniment.
When I first began this writing project, life was a fair deal simpler than it now is. So much has changed in such a short space of time, it now seems sensible to incorporate those new elements into this overarching timeline. That left only one missing piece, and that was to resubscribe to the MMO that I’d left in 2018 to concentrate on a real life quest to convince other people to publish my written work.
I got the Achievement for my first poetry pamphlet back in November 2022, just after World of Warcraft’s 18th birthday. I resubscribed to the game in late September 2023, and I’ve been playing ever since. There needed to be an Epilogue where my OC (original character) was able to find peace, and I was able to stand alongside her with the same sense of achievement.
That’s when I knew I was ready to start telling the story of what this game means to me and how it quite literally saved my life. We’ll be using this space in the following months to post a selection of fictional works, plus lyrical and conventional poetry, telling a story that began back in March 2005, when my youngest was born.
Gaming is a tough ask when you’re learning from scratch. I was vaguely aware of the Warcraft ‘universe’ from other people playing Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, which was a real-time strategy game from a decade earlier. This MMO however was unlike anything else I’d encountered… well, almost. I’d played Dungeon Siege almost to its end on release. There were similarities, as there were to the original Baldur’s Gate.
My biggest problem in the early days was fatigue, as I was almost exclusively playing during early morning periods. Looking back, it was not my smartest moment, but it gave me somewhere to escape to, which at that time was very much needed. Nobody could be critical of my skills as a mother in a video game. It was a quick and dirty hiding place that only became obvious quite some time after the fact.
I’m mixing prose poetry and traditional forms in this collection. Prose works well here.
Darnassus, 2005
Everything is purple, even green sublimates into a Night Elf sheen, that race so old they have transcended petty mortal fights, choosing instead to stand aside, allowing others to dictate the path that Azeroth will take. Here they float, within their glorious capital, stone and columns, tranquil burrows, sense of ancient history pervading every pore. Everything's untouchable because for what must be the fourth time today, an Elf's a ghost, killed by a sprite. Manual dexterity is failing me, after four nights with perhaps four hours sleep at most. Maybe buying a fucking MMO to play whilst you're breastfeeding was not the smartest move to make, and yet this place compels because inside it lies a chance of feeling whole... somewhere within a game they've already lost their soul...
I almost gave up
Warcraft at the start: Night Elf
Druids? Kryptonite.
If you’d like to talk about the issues in this post, or you have any comments, please consider a reply :D