When Karic wore leather

During the day I was a bored schoolchild. Invisible in class and tucked away in shady corners during lunch I would sit and observe the destructive effect of sugar and e-numbers on parentless children. Despised by my teacher who believed ritual embarrassment to be the best way to bring me out of my shell. This was in the mid 90’s and by then she should have seen that shock therapy wasn't working with old superpowers, so why did she think it would with me? Bitch.

If only she knew. But her generation could never know.

Because, you see, at night I was reborn. Standing at a full 6ft I would routinely go against my instincts and break the mould. And I was handsomely rewarded for it. With a cyber-punk twist I was offered a choice of Wizard, Archer or Warrior. I opted for the latter. I had broad shoulders, a black leather jumpsuit and big military boots. I also boasted a round and innocent face, wide eyes and long purple hair with a solo strand that fell over the left eye. A look I felt was simply stunning in females. So why not swordsmen?

Seven orange characters would float above my head and fill me with pride. Sometimes I would work myself up into such a fever that I would simply radiate with pure gold. And as I did I became stronger, wiser and more confident. I was in love with my world. The lighting, the music, the challenge, the magic. But in particular I lived for that little chime that used to sound every time you correctly hit the three swing combo and an evil inhabitant of our new world would split in two before me. They had mercilessly butchered the first peaceful settlers and now stood to block our progress. I, as a hired gun of the Alliance of Nations, could not allow this.

It was the brainchild of a team of experts on the other side of the globe, who in a last ditch effort to save their brand name had worked wonders and were squeezing raw energy through a 56K channel in order to animate this cultural melting pot. A utopian vision, which exploded into existence every night, if only in the minds of a million teenagers. But where better for a revolution of our ancestors rules? Every night I would meet my two dear friends. Lucy, a recently heart broken 26-year-old he worked as a computer technician from Cambridge and was a brave and talented warrior, approximately 4ft tall with a white body suit and cute bob cut. Together we would fight back to back against many a horde. Yet we couldn’t stand for long without Montgomery, the trusted keystone of our efforts who doubled as an 18-year-old B&Q employee from Southend. Complete with a jesters hat and a 7ft staff he would rain down immunisation spells and healing charms in a green glittery haze that would work visual poetry with the orange clash of sword against bone. Together we combo’d and double blocked our way through forests, lava, cities and oceans. Nothing we encountered could stop us.

But the vice like grip of First Life eroded our ambitions and with the death of a console came the death of our team. A world bursting with life, energy and enthusiasm spiralled into decline almost as quickly as it had flourished. Millions left to seek their own paths and now the metal walkways of our transporter ships lie empty in orbit around a lonely planet.

In terms of the console MMORPG we really were pioneers. Each of us took something away and each of us left something behind. For a fleeting moment we came together from across the globe to fight man’s common enemy, and I was there, at the forefront of our efforts. Other angels have since taken flight and developed the foundations we once laid and we can all feel some pride in that fact.

The spirit of our community will live on so long as we never stop casting our dreams far and wide into the future.