In tandem with my guild members and a few close friends, I exited Ulduar relatively unscathed. With 3 new epic pieces to adorn my character sheet, I was feeling relatively proud of myself. The Ulduar run concluded an 8 hour stretch of stagnancy, sitting at my desk immobile and unaware of the world beyond my monitor. After congratulating everyone, repairing and sending some gold to my "alt" character, I logged off. Heading straight to bed, I lay down on top of my covers.

It was 7am, and as the sunlight bled through the loose threading of my curtain, I stared at the water stains in my ceiling. I began to think, as one often does during the restless throes which preclude sleep, about the next day. My estimation was that I would wake up at about 6pm, and I imagined I would probably play WoW once I got up, my rationale being, "The day is already wasted, why not wait for the next one to be productive". My schedule seemed to promote that mentality, one which has been the norm for several weeks now. Most recently, I feel like I've been generally more apathetic towards things in life, especially in the face of in-game gear objectives, achievements and guild drama. Between farming for T8 equivalent gear and guild recruitment, the intrigues of political theory (my major at university), my friends and my own birthday (June 20th) seemed to wane. It's a sad state, I'll admit.

 I have been playing World of Warcraft - on and off - for about four years now. The game, its sub-culture and relationships which it has allowed me to develop represent a noticeable part of my adolescent life. I was always the dissenting voice when the topic of video game or online addiction came up, dismissing the idea as far-fetched, rare or unlikely. Only a few weeks ago, on my own blog, I wrote an article about the fallacies and exaggerations concerning addiction to video games. But the issue isn't that simple. It's not simply a matter of addiction or self-control. Axiomatically, World of Warcraft evolved in my life's value system. It began as a simple time-sink, and soon turned into a mild diversion. Eventually the diversion became a past-time, a hobby and later a passion. Today, World of Warcraft exists as a driving force in my daily routine and colloquial life. I fear what the driving force might turn into. It is this fear which has led me to quit. 30 minutes ago, I logged on, deleted each and everyone of my characters, cancelled my account, and - just in case - I changed my password to a random sequence of letters and numbers.  

Luckily, I'm only 19 years old, and many responsibilities in life are not yet mine to carry. I don't yet have a wife to neglect, children to ignore or a job to get laid-off from.

I can't say with any certainty that I was addicted. Looking back at my experiences with the game, I don't blame Blizzard, the structure of the game or the internet at large for my irresponsibility. I can only blame myself. I was able to convince myself on too many occasions that what I was doing was only temporary, that it was normal, or that I could recover. However odd it may sound, I'll cherish the time I spent with World of Warcraft. It was a magnificent game, and at times, it could illicit emotions unimaginable in any other form of entertainment. The other day I found a Hakkar killshot from way back when, and it made my stomach turn. It felt like an eternity ago, but the screenshot couldn't have been taken more than 2 years from today.

I've played on 6 servers, I have had 4 characters reach their highest level, and I have participated in every end-game instance and raid. While somewhat destructive, World of Warcraft made me feel as though I was a part of something bigger than myself. Each time I read that WoW had reached a new population milestone, it became harder to leave. I was a part of a sub-culture, which recognized my talents and abilities in a context the outside world would never understand. But that period has ended now, and in some strange way, I suppose a part of my life is done and over with. But as time passes on, I have no doubt that I will be thankful that this part ends with a reflective blog post, as opposed to something much less ideal.

I'll try and remember the good times, playing with friends who I met in-game, and playing with friends from real life. Role playing in Eastern Plaguelands with Sneake, ousting trolls on the server boards, and intentionally pulling mobs in 40-man raids.

I may be done with World of Warcraft, but I'm certain I'll never be done with the "World of Video Gaming", so to speak.