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The story of how World of Warcraft became such a huge presence in my life is not something I'm proud of. In fact, I'd ordinarily opt to not even talk about it, but writing about my issues has become therapeutic. WoW is to lethargy as all-you-can-eat buffets are to obesity. I grew up as the real life incarnation of Lethargic Lad and it usually required medication to snap me out of it. Since I have quit taking medication, every day is a battle with my wilted will power and dire lack of discipline. It is this weak spot in my psyche that WoW attacks with its complex simplicity. It is the perfect drug.

World of Warcraft ranks among the easiest games I've ever played. If you've ever experienced Progress Quest, its a lot like that, except it gives you a little more to do. Being a simple, appealing and mindless activity, it appeals to lethargy, laziness and depression like a blossom appeals to a bee. WoW works like a dollar auction where you become more committed with each moment that you spend engaged with it. The amount of time you give to WoW acts as incentive for you to keep at it, reaching for the next milestone and the next upgrade. Even at the most elite levels of the game, there is always a way to make your character better and better. Eventually, even regrets about continuing become diluted with the voices of all the upgrades calling your name.

I was introduced to WoW at a very vulnerable time in my life. I was depressed, lonely, and had every reason to be lethargic. After moving to New York City, I discovered that my apartment was located in an inconvenient part of town. Despite the comfort it provided, I needed a damn good reason to get out of the house. Civilization, or at least a safe place to hang out, was a minimum 50 minute subway ride into the city. This also meant a minimum 50 minute ride back, so just a quick cup of coffee was not going to motivate me to do that. I stayed home and played WoW. I watched through my window as the beautiful summer turned into beautiful fall, and I played some more. Winter came, giving me even more reason to stay inside.

I had some great times in WoW. I originally started to play with friends, and then I began to make friends within the world. I even managed to acquire a mortal enemy. I joined teams, I lead teams, and I used my interactions to learn a little about myself in the process. However, there were the times between the prime hours of social interaction where I’d find myself as the only soul around. While everyone else was logged out, living their life or recuperating for the next day, I pressed on. This is a trait I usually appreciate about myself; above average dedication. In this case, it wasn’t good for me at all.

I knew the game inside and out. I was a student of its intricacies and I considered myself amongst the most skilled. I used my downtime to research the mechanics, the strategies, and the tactics of other players. That’s just how I work; I need to know the situation inside and out. When the guilt of playing too much became too persuasive to stay in the game, my complete familiarity had me reminded of it daily. In the absence of my hobby, I lingered with little to fill the gaping chasm of time between wake and sleep.

Its hard to recall the first time I quit. It wasn’t a sincere attempt. I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of the game; I was treading water progression-wise. I disbanded the guild that I had built to amazing unity and simply disappeared. Not only did I do the wrong thing in disbanding my guild, I did so without thinking it through completely. It was the emotion and frustration of my life disintegrating around the game that drove me to give up. I didn’t plan my exit, I just quit suddenly and I was left with nothing to do. I returned soon after to see my former friends turned against me; feeling betrayed when I abandoned them. This was a personal lesson learnt.

The alienation I experienced when returning did nothing to help me quit again. Instead, I looked for a better fix. I joined other guilds in hope of going farther in the game. I escaped the daily hostility by paying money to move my characters to a more established server where I joined one of the elite guilds. This only meant more time needed to be spent, and now I was spending it with a purpose and a clear path to rewards. It was like moving from a weekly game of pick-up basketball to joining a league with games all the time and practices when there weren’t any games. It was like graduating to a heavier drug.

Like all things in life, you look for reward for the things you do. When you do a favor, you want thanks. When you work a job, you want money. When you lift weights, you want muscle tone. When you raid in WoW, you want “epic” gear. Joining an elite guild puts you on the fast track towards acquiring just that; and you see a direct correlation between the time you spend and the reward you receive. It’s quite a hook. Within a few months, I was geared to the teeth and among the toughest players on the battlefield. It was power and authority; even more intoxicating.

By this time, I was deep in the throes of depression. I was broke; being begrudgingly supported by my parents, having given up on my job search long ago. I was about to get my life line cut off, thought, lest I DO something with my life. It is funny how reality can rear it’s head up every once in a while to stare you down and force you to lay down your hand. I was going to quit WoW again, but this time I had an escape plan. I had to either get a job or go back to school to keep my parents willing to pay my living expenses. You are really living a pathetic life if you ever get to this point. I felt like the junkie who keeps asking the people he knows for favors. It was time to own up.

This time, it stuck. I managed to stay clean for 8 months while I attended school, got married to a girl who I had met in the game, subsequently dropped out of school, and then started a legitimate well-paying day job. When I did return to the game, I did so casually, feeling content with my life at the time. I was willing to give the game a few hours a week as an entertainment venue; not an addiction. I likened this to an alcohol addict reducing his drinking status to that of social lubricant and tasting. Unfortunately, old addictions are like Bruce Willis in an action flick. Can you say, “With a vengeance?”

Before long, I found myself neck-deep in the game again. With the game’s overall progression now miles ahead of where I left off, I was nowhere near the elite ranking I had once obtained, but there was a lot of new things for me to explore. It once again became a game of simple, repetitive tasks that took no brain power to accomplish. I was a living zombie at the computer, grinding my way back into relevance. When I finally reached a scantly competitive level, I worked myself back into the progression fast track.

This time, the guilt was like a whip. After another chunk of a year had been surrendered to the game, my disgust with myself swelled to a bursting point. My relationship with my wife was threatened by a fight over a petty game item. I was appalled that such a meaningless entity could intrude upon my relationship, despite the fact that we played the game together. I quit once more.

And I swear I’m not writing the same thing over and over, but I came back to the game again after that. I was actually begged back. I didn’t want to, but my wife literally begged and pleaded for me to return. She had the idea that I quit because I didn’t want the game to cause an argument again, when in fact I was simply appalled by the meaningless yet omniscient presence the game had in my life. It took another fight to straighten things out. So, for the final time (as of the writing of this article), I uninstalled World of Warcraft and cancelled my account.

Life without my drug of choice is like attending a party without booze. The buffer to keep my brain from thinking is no longer there. I now live with all of my thoughts and all of my time. I do waste a little of it on a video game every now and then, but I don’t feel obligated to play anything like how I would with WoW. The addiction I faced wasn’t new. It wasn’t the first time I had dove into a video game world and not come up for air. I’m a little more aware of it now though. Now, I’m not a teenager under my parents’ roof. I don’t have my summer and winter breaks where I can bury myself in fantasy without regrets. I’m a responsible adult who supports himself now, and I have to remain vigilant. After the party’s over, I’ve got to drive home.