I imagine it all started on some lazy weekend. I was in late Seventh Grade, perhaps early Eighth, at the time; just your average thirteen year old who’s parents had just bought a scorching fast 333 MHz computer. My friend and I were bored, it was rainy, and, as Bill Watterson once said, “the only sport [was] driving mom crazy.” Well, evidently she’d had enough of our clanking pots and pans together, as she drove us off to the mall and told us to pick out a game to keep ourselves busy.
We scoured those shelves for what seemed like five minutes, but surely much more. Eventually something caught my eye – a big, blue airplane with gold letters above it, Air Warrior III.
Rushing home, we quickly installed the game and hopped straight into campaign mode. It was unlike any game I’d ever played before. Many long hours were spent in offline play, learning the basics of takeoff, flight, and landing. Gunnery was simple enough – spray enough bullets at him – you’ll get him eventually! Yes, my friends, the offline unlimited ammo option was very sweet indeed. I enjoyed offline play so much that it wasn’t until another year or so, the summer before I entered high school, that I finally tried my luck online.
An all-nighter spent first begging my mother for a credit card, and then gingerly twitching the mouse during the eight hour download, and I was ready to go. Well, my offline practice had paid off – the first words out of my mouth weren’t “how do I take off?” Even so, they weren’t much better – “DOES ANYONE NEED A GUNNER?”
Of course, in those days, pilots couldn’t gun their own planes, and, as such, when someone asked if anyone needed a gunner, you’d actually get a reply. And so off I went, into the virtual skies, on a bombing run against something or other. “HiTech’s Outhouse” was yet to be coined (I think), so I’d suppose we were off against “Gamestorm’s Sewage Treatment Plant,” or something of that nature. I have no idea if we hit the target as I was too busy marveling at the wonders of “VOX.” It was quite the experience.
The rest of that summer was spent indoors, in air-conditioning, and in combat. Or at least what I thought was combat. I cherry picked, vulched, ran away from every one on one, wouldn’t go anywhere without some friends, and would dive to the deck to try and escape anyone who noticed my bounce.
On the strategic front, well, I was all about winning the war… And I was your average squeaky-voiced fourteen-year-old arm chair general. Whining, “why are you hitting that target!? We need you HERE!” Or, “WHY DIDN’T YOU BRING EGGS!!” Or “WHY ARE YOU MILKRUNNING, IT DOES NOTHING TO HELP!!!!” I actually got so bad that an older, wiser, squad mate of mine had to take me aside into one of the “briefing rooms” and give me my first lecture on “it’s their $15.”
Summer turned into the school year, and yet I continued to play. My mother was either much too preoccupied with my other siblings to notice, or was just happy I wasn’t a third problem. Either way, I was on all the time. My grades didn’t do so hot, and neither did my social life. But I could fly with the best of them. Until of course I was noticed, at which time I dove down to the deck and scurried away. Well that’s what you were supposed to do, right?
I kept playing, now able to vulch five, six, eight, ten people in a row before scurrying home. This of course brought me many points, and, since we all know score is everything, I was in my mind, quite naturally, an “ace.” With it, and my blossoming age of now fifteen, came an attitude and an even worse mouth. I was a complete jerk on the squad’s email list, and ended up leaving that squad to fly with like-minded jerks. I started ****, but could, of course, never back it up unless I was in the faster plane and you didn’t see me, and I had the corniest kill macros. And, of course, I did all this while balking in that squeaky teenage voice that we all love so much.
Yeah, for most of that school year I was all about Air Warrior. I played it every chance I got and thought about it every chance I shouldn’t. I was putting in well over 200 hours a month into it and the sum total of my friends were those I flew with night in night out. I was well on my way to a life condemned to nerdy virginity and social isolation. And for some stupid reason, I really didn’t seem to care – why would I need a life? I had Air Warrior! What could be better then climbing in your FW190, climbing to alt, and then blowing it all right away to go vulch a field? Nothing of course; or so I thought…
Then, early one evening in June of the summer of ‘99, I finally got a clue. My friend called me on the phone:
“JP, I’m with some girls who want to meet you…”
Well, gents, there went the 200 hours a month
Oh, I still flew on and off for the next year. But I spent most of my time going off on adventures with four girls who would go on to become some of my closest friends. Great people one and all; I could and can tell them anything, hook up with them and not have it be awkward, and could even admit that I like this game. What’s more, only one of them ever yells at me, and that’s because we dated – she’s allowed to.
Eventually, I got back into the game a bit more, and continued to be an ass. This didn’t last very long, as the following summer I lost a very close friend. There were other things on my mind besides the game, namely, how to score some drugs or beer and how to avoid going to high school (I would eventually just drop out). I consider myself very lucky to have lived through those wild, blurry days. Eventually, I got very bored and tried to return to Air Warrior. It was gone by then, and I thought that phase of my life was over forever.
Four years later, I first saw a commercial for a new game, “Aces High.” It caught my attention, horrid voice over and all, but never enough to actually get me to sit down on the computer and download it. Not until my brother died, anyway. When that news hit, well, after the wake and what not, I figured I’d better find something to take my mind off it, quick. Four years earlier, when my friend had died, I basically base jumped until I hit rock bottom. I’d had one hell of a time dusting myself off and climbing back up. Nope, that wouldn’t do. Not again. Instead, I figured, “hey, why not give that Aces High a try? I’ll bet that’ll do the trick.”
Let me tell you, it sure did.
So I returned to online flight sims, this time at the age of twenty. Flying around reminded me an awful lot of my days in Air Warrior, and truth be told I was pretty ashamed of how I’d acted back then. I took a new name, and decided to have a new start. I’d try not to whine so much, I definitely would try not to be a little Napoleon, and what’s more, instead of chasing some silly score I’d actually take the time to try and improve. Basically I’d try to ensure that if, six years from now, I look back on how I acted today, I won’t be as mortified as I am of my behavior from six years earlier. The game would now be FUN for me. Not a chore, not a race to a high score or low rank, not something my ego would depend on. That’s a lesson I really hope the new young one’s coming into this game this summer can learn from my experiences. But I know, having been there, that they probably won’t
Now it’s over two years since I’ve joined your ranks and almost eight since I took my first flight in the online world. Finally, seven years after I first met them, those same four girls are once again dragging me away from this game for awhile. But this time, instead of chasing their tails, I’m off with three to South Carolina to see the fourth get married.
Crazy world
