World of Whitecraft

The names are fictitious, but the situation was not. Grab some Sun-Chips and a Vitamin Water; this is a long one.

My First MMO Experience

“But you don’t type like you’re black…” a mousey voice tentatively supposed over our guild Ventrilo Chat.

“I didn’t know black people played World of Warcraft.” Daynia, our guild leader, drawled out in a thick southern accent tempered on The Delta. The channel went silent. We stood outside Scholomance awkwardly for what seemed like forever. I finally spoke again.

“So, is this gonna be a problem?” I asked.

“What? What’s gonna be a problem?” Daynia asked with an obviously forced casual tone.

“Me being black? Is that cool with everyone?” It’s a question that I shouldn’t have had to ask, given our history.

*******

I had been purging the Stormwind countryside of the Defias menace alone for two days now. Though I was enjoying my first tryst into the MMO genre, I felt like I was missing a major “M” component of the play experience; The Multiplayer. The World of Warcraft Beta, though relatively large, still felt sparse in terms of players, especially because my invite came towards the end of the closed beta cycle. Most of the other players were well into their 30s by the time I started playing, so I had to traverse the early quests alone.

On my third day, while getting molly-whopped by Knuckle Dusters and Highwaymen and cussing at my computer like I had lost my mind, a mage and a rogue wandered my way.

“Need some help?” Daynia the Mage typed into the chat bar. I couldn’t really respond, because I hadn’t figured out how to chat yet. Chatting had not yet become a necessity because these were the first people to ever speak to me. As I frantically searched the key configurations menu, the rogue disappeared and Daynia began to set ablaze everything in a thirty foot radius. The rogue, named Kaylee, reappeared behind the final Knuckle Duster and stabbed him fatally in the back. “You can at least say thanks. We just saved you a repair bill.” Daynia said. I started jumping around like a spastic gymnast. I wanted to say thanks. I wanted to hug them both. I just didn’t know how.

“Do you know how to chat?” Kaylee typed in what I can only assume was an extremely condescending tone. “One jump for yes, two jumps for no.”

Jump jump.

“See, he wasn’t being rude, Day. He just didn’t know how to type!” Kaylee asserted.

“Oh, sorry to jump to conclusions buddy! We’ve just been dealing with so many pricks lately. Everyone is in such a rush to level that they forget common courtesy.” He paused and looked at me quizzically. “What’s your problem?” I had added spinning in place to my incessant jumping. “Oh, right! Hit enter and then type what you wanna say, and then hit enter again.”

“Enter!? That was it? I’m such an idiot!” the ungrateful mute finally spoke.

“No worries, man.” Daynia reassured me “This thing takes some time to get used to. Is this your first MMO?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a tinge of shame “I finally got a computer that can run games. I’m a total noob…Or is it newb? I’m not sure, and I couldn’t ask till now.”

“LOL. Tomato/Tomahto. It doesn’t matter. Everyone is a noob to start.” Kaylee interjected. “Me and Day have been playing together since the beginning of the beta. These are our third characters.”

“Yeah, this game is so great. Just wait till you get to your first Instance! You’re gonna flip your shit!” I didn’t know what an Instance was. I didn’t know how to flip shit. All I knew was that these were two really cool guys whose enthusiasm about the game rubbed off on me in a big way. “Me and Kaylee aren’t doing anything. Want some help?” Of course I did.

We stabbed and magicked and laughed well into the morning.

The next day I awoke and logged on excitedly. There was a message waiting for me in my mailbox. It was from Daynia. There was one gold piece and a note attached that read “Same Bat Time. Same Bat Channel.” Looks like my new friends were just as eager as I was to party up again. I spent the rest of the day trying to catch up to their levels and anticipating when they’d next sign on.

And this is how it went. We’d log on and play till we couldn’t keep our eyes open. In game we were inseparable. They ran with me in my first Instance—which did, in fact, flip my shit. They congratulated me when I crafted my first rare item. They let me have dibs on an epic helm. We even bought the same color mounts. And while we were staving the tide of revolution in Azeroth, we were also getting to know each other. I knew that Daynia worked from his home in Mississippi. I knew Kaylee was actually a dude who was going to community college, studying to be a dental assistant. I genuinely grew to consider these guys my friends, outside of online avatars.

We were now several months into retail play (The period where beta has ended and you’re actually paying to play the game). We founded and were maintaining a small but successful guild full of people who were like us; mature players who wanted to enjoy the game and maybe make a friend or two along the way.

“Hey, Kaylee,” Daynia said in officers chat. It was always weird to hear him referred to as Kaylee, because we all knew in real life that this female named Kaylee was a man. “I got the Ventrilo server today.”

“Awesome! Do you need help setting it up?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll have it all together for the Scholomance raid tomorrow.” I had been playing for awhile now, but I was still pretty oblivious when it came to some of the finer nuances of MMOs.

“You cool kids wanna let me in on what a ‘ventrical server’ is, or am I gonna have to guess?” I chimed in. They were used to having to explain things to me at this point.

“It’s a voice chat.” Kaylee explained. “We’ll be able to talk to each other while playing. It’s easier to communicate with each other over a microphone than it is typing.”

“Yeah, it’s really important for coordinating strategies and stuff. All the top tier guilds use it.” This was thrilling to me for two reasons:

1. We were going to start making preparations to make ourselves a serious raiding guild; one to be respected server wide.

2. I’d actually get to hear these guys.

After all this time, we’d finally get to really TALK. I’d put voices to the people behind the characters. It just felt like a step towards validating this e-friendship we had cultivated.

I bought my microphone and hooked it up the next day. Daynia had set up the server and posted all of the information on our guild website, so when I finally got online, our Ventrilo channel was already bustling with activity. I signed on; delight and anxiety wrestling fiercely in the pit of my stomach. As Ventrilo made everyone aware of my presence, everyone fell silent, checking their screen to see who signed on. When they saw my name, everyone spoke out excitedly.

“About time! It’s Daynia. How ya doing, buddy?” he spoke slow and his accent was as thick as I imagined it.

“Whats going on, man! Kaylee here. But I guess you can call me Chris, since it’d be weird to call me a girls name, when I’m obviously not a girl.” He laughed and a smile broke out across my face. These guys sounded just like I expected them too, and from their voices it sounded like they were as genuinely excited to talk to me as I was to them. Kaylees laughter was followed by a cacophony of introductions and well wishes. I was so happy, and I felt so at peace; there was no need for pretense. These were my friends and I felt extremely comfortable. It was my turn to speak. I held down the shift key and leaned into the microphone.

“What up, y’all. Let’s do the damn thing.”

My comment was met with silence. Though we were all scattered across the country and separated by data floating through the ether, the shock and discomfort was palpable. I figured people were offended by my admittedly extraneous use of the word damn. “Sorry about the D word. I guess I shoulda figured not everyone was hip to the cussing and carrying on.”

“Are you black?” Uchihadewd, a new addition to the guild, spoke. “Cuz you sound black.” His blunt delivery was shocking. I didn’t really understand why it mattered. I was on the verge of retorting when I noticed the silence after his question. It was heavy with anticipation. Everyone wanted to know if I was black, he was just the first one to pose the question.

“Last I checked.” I tried to lighten the mood to no avail. It was starting to get uncomfortable. “So, we gonna get this thing going or what? I can main assist. I printed out the pull order.”

“That’s crazy that you’re black! I’m sorry if I ever said the N word.” Uchihadewd was on a roll “Have I ever said the N word? I just say it as a joke, or when I get pissed when I get ganked.” I ignored most of what he said; this conversation was obviously going south.

“Why is it crazy that I’m black?” I said, trying to laugh the whole situation off.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s just weird is all. Just weird that you’ve been black this whole time and we didn’t know.”

“How were you supposed to know? It’s not like you can see me. Unless you can… Are you spying on me, Uch!?” again with an attempt at humor. Like the others, it fell flat.

“But you don’t type like you’re black…” Uchihadewd trailed off, and again the silence across the server let me know that he was just expressing what everyone else was feeling. I started to feel like I was drowning. I felt like everyone was turning on me. Not two days ago on our website, we were planning a guild meet-up for Kaylees college graduation. Now I wasn’t even sure if we were going to be able to run our planned raid.

Daynia and Kaylee had been silent. I kept telepathically pleading with them; hoping one of them would step in on my behalf. They should have let everyone know that just because I was black didn’t mean they had to act any differently. My dark, butter smooth baritone was no cause for alarm. I was the same person they had grinded levels with. I was the same person that kept everyone stocked with potions. I was still me. I wanted them to tell everyone that nothing had changed. I so desperately wanted them to tell me that nothing had changed.

“I didn’t know black people played World of Warcraft.” Daynia spoke in a tone that straddled the line between curiosity and repulsion. My body slumped low in the computer chair. It wasn’t Judas or Cassius level, but I certainly felt betrayed. Ventrilo broke the silence for us. Someone had left the chat server. Almost instantaneously, we got a message in guild chat that that same person had quit the guild.

“So, is this gonna be a problem?” I asked.

“What? What’s gonna be a problem?” Daynia cleared his throat and did his best to sound un-phased.

“Me being black? Is that cool with everyone?”

“Of course it’s cool!” Kaylee said. “Now can we get this party started?” We filled the empty spot in our party and went ahead with the raid. We wiped twice and decided to save it for a later date.

Kaylee said it was cool, and I believe it was cool for him, or at least he wanted it to be. Unfortunately, his position wasn’t the majority. Two more guild members left by the end of the week, and there was a definite strain within the group. If I signed on to Ventrilo, people would go quiet, and conversation would be game related only. Even my conversations with Daynia changed. He became detached, no longer joking like he used to. Kaylee said it was because he wanted to be a better guild leader, but I just couldn’t believe that was the case. I don’t know why it changed, but it did.

I quit that character a month later and moved to another server. I felt it was in the best interest of the guild to not have me around. I fell in with an established guild and continued to enjoy World of Warcraft. It was with them that I stayed until I stopped playing a few months ago. I made sure not to get attached like I did with the first guild. I didn’t participate in forum discussions or irreverent guild chat. When on Ventrilo, I only spoke when necessary and never more than a few words at a time. I told them I had a crappy microphone, so that got me out of talking most of the time. They were a fun group of guys who didn’t take themselves too seriously, and I’m sad to think that I didn’t get to know them better because I was scared of what they’d think of me if they found out I was black.

I logged onto my old character before I quit. No one on my friends list was on. It looked like most of them hadn’t even logged on in over a year. I found a letter in my mailbox. It was from Kaylee. He told me the guild fell apart when I left. He let me know he was quitting WoW, but he wanted to keep in contact with me. He left me his email address and told me to write him whenever I had a spare moment. I reread the message several times. I looked at it for so long that the words began to look like a meaningless string of letters.

I squinted hard to regain focus, and read it once more before I put it in the trash.

My attempt at a comic book

This is a short synopsis and the first two pages of a comic book I'm scripting called "Force." It's formatted kinda odd, so if you have trouble understanding what's going on, let me know.

Force

“Because not every meteor landing, cosmic ray blast or nuclear event happens in the suburbs.”

“Force” is the story of Dey-Lay Simms, a young high school dropout who has been in and out of the system. One day, a small meteor lands in the projects and grants Dey-Lay the ability to create globules of “force” that can absorb impact or explode on contact. Dey-Lay must deal with readjusting to society, other irradiated hood figures and encroaching government interference, all while trying to keep the projects from tearing themselves apart.

Page 1

Wide panel close up of DEY-LAY SIMMS. He stares solemnly out through his mask. His hair a complete mess, and his mouth clenched tight with worry, fear and anger.

CAPTION 1 (IN REFERENCE TO TIME)

NOW.

CAPTION 2

I USED TO WONDER WHY COME WE DIDN’T HAVE NO SUPERHEROES.

CAPTION 3

I MEAN, I KNOW THEY GOT BLACK SUPERHEROES. A BUNCH OF ‘EM, BUT THEY’RE ALL REAL SMART, OR COME FROM MONEY.

2. Wide panel zooms out to show DEY-LAY sitting on a bench between two heavily armed soldiers, dressed in full riot gear. Their faces are covered by large, black helmets. DEY-LAY’S expression hasn’t changed.

CAPTION 1

AND THAT’S COOL. WE’RE ALL REAL APPRECIATIVE TO KNOW THAT YOU DON’T ONLY SEE US AS THUGS AND GANGSTERS, BUT…

CAPTION 2

… BUT, I’D STILL SIT AROUND WISHING THAT ONE DAY AN ALIEN BABY WITH SUPER STRENGTH WOULD CRASH LAND ON MARTIN LUTHER KING DRIVE.

3. Wide panel zooms out further to show that DEY-LAY and company are aboard a military helicopter. We see MIKE MASTERSON, sitting nervously in a corner, about to heave. DORIEN TAYLOR is standing and staring directly at DEY-LAY through expensive sunglasses.

CAPTION 1

WHY COULDN’T A RADIOACTIVE SPIDER HIDE BEHIND THE FLAMING HOTS AT THE CORNER STORE? WHERE WAS THE GOVERNMENT TESTING FACILITIES ON THE SOUTH SIDE?

CAPTION 2

I USED TO WISH THAT SUPER POWERS WOULD COME TO THE GHETTO.

4. Wide panel shot of DEY-LAY, hands on knees, getting ready to stand up. He looks surprisingly calm, as if his whole body has just breathed a sigh of relief. MIKE MASTERSON looks up at him with equal parts dread and confusion. DORIEN TAYLOR adjusts his glasses and one of the armored men has gotten up to open the helicopter door.

DORIEN TAYLOR

WE’RE HERE. FORCE IS UP. GO DO THE HERO THING.

DEY-LAY

BET.

Page 2

1. Full page splash of DEY-LAY standing at the open helicopter door. The wind is rushing around him and he holds on tightly to the sides of the door. Below, the city is in complete chaos. Random fires and other large scale property damage can be seen from the sky. It’s a war-zone.

CAPTION 1

WELL, MY NIGGAS AND NIGGA-ETTES, BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.

Video game manuals

I grew up very poor in an impoverished neighborhood. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say we lived in the projects, but as Dave Chappelle said, “It had all the familiar symptoms of the projects.” To keep us sheltered from that lifestyle, my mother would do anything to keep us indoors. Which was alright by my brother and I because we were easy targets when it came to “friendly” neighborhood rousting. But how do you keep kids indoors when you’re dirt poor? You can only make so many cardboard box forts. Fortunately for my mother, we loved to read. We’d read anything we could get our hands on, from old copies of Jet to the nutritional values on cereal boxes.

One day, my mother brought home a box. It was tattered, and looked like it was held together by will alone. We looked at it quizzically. It wasn’t big or stable enough to play in, so it didn’t hold our interest for more than a second.

“Look in it, dummies!” my mother balked.

We peered inside hesitantly. What could possibly be inside this box that would be more entertaining than a box fort? The answer, we discovered as my brother bravely plunged an arm inside, was a small multi-colored pamphlet. No bigger than a greeting card, the front cover was adorned with a man. A man in blue spandex wearing what appeared to be his underwear on the outside of his pants? The man brandished a gun at an assailant, as a scientist and another tragically dressed combatant looked on. They had to be engaged in a vicious death match. My brother and I squealed in delight! It appeared to be “going down,” and we were just in time to bear witness. Mega Man II ran across the top of the cover like a marquee inviting; no, enticing us to delve further.

“What is it!?” my brother asked in a fervor.

“I dunno. There are a bunch of them and they were free at ‘The Swap’.” The box was filled with these little pamphlets emblazoned with scenes of epic struggles, daring rescues and gallant heroes. “I figured y’all might like to read ‘em, instead of reading them cereal boxes.” My mother was right. These mini-ventures were sure to be more interesting than the nutritional value of “Fruity-Os” (O% of the daily suggested vitamin intake). I reached into the box and grabbed a handful of them. My brother and I dashed over to the couch and began to tear open “Mega Man II” ravenously. Almost salivating, we turned to the front page and read aloud.

“In the year 200X…” We were enraptured! 200X!? What year could that possibly be!? We read on, “…a super robot named Mega Man was created. Dr. Light created Mega Man to stop the evil desires of Dr. Wily. However, after his defeat, Dr. Wily created eight of his own robots to counter Mega Man. As the robotic blue bomber, Mega Man, the player must battle through 14 levels and defeat eight robot masters before tackling the nefarious Dr. Wily.”

…And that was it. We turned the page to discover instructions on how to play a video game. My mom had gotten us a box full of instruction manuals for Nintendo games. Each one filled with the barest of story content. This was my first (and wouldn’t be the last) experience with a cock-tease. My brother and I were crest-fallen. We wanted to be regaled with tales of daring-do. Instead we learned the myriad uses of the “A” button.

These books served a much greater purpose in the long run. Practically, we taught ourselves to read well beyond our grade level by stuttering and mumbling our way through them. They also helped fuel our already overactive imagination. Who needed Nintendo of America to tell us about Mega Man when we could just tell the story ourselves. We’d glean whatever story and character information we could from the manuals, set them aside and begin acting out the sweeping narratives hinted at on the cover. The books led to a grand opus of struggle and triumph between some of the greatest heroes in the early Nintendo canon. Super Joe swung in to save Little Mac from Dr. Wiley and Bowser. Samus blasted his way through waves of egg-plants to win the heart of Princess Zelda (Hey, don’t blame us! We didn’t know the secret Metroid ending!). Mike Jones and Mario were pitted against Master Higgens and Luigi in battles to the death. My brother and I were the progenitors of Super Smash Bros.

Now, I get a game and pop it into the console. I don’t need to imagine the adventures because I have the means to play out these virtual works of fiction. No thought of even glancing at the instructions, the manual is tossed to the wayside. And as I type this, I’m overwhelmed by an emotion that almost feels like guilt. Like an old friend who I’ve outgrown in my years away, I can’t help but be struck by a sadness that I’ll never be able to have the same relationship I once had. These manuals provided me so much in my formative years; a reading tutor, hours of entertainment, an escape. How could I be so callous to them now?

Excuse me. I have some reading to catch up on.

ZOMG FIRST!

I have a lot of writing on my HDD. It's situated between my downloaded episodes of So You Think You Can Dance, my Utada Hikaru discography and several celebrity porn videos.

This blog is an attempt at giving my work new life. I'll be posting older pieces, newer completed pieces and some of my works-in-progress.

Critique. Comment. Talk shit. Enjoy.