I’m waiting, now
looking up, and out
for signs of life, through fog shroud
an eagerness to believe
pressed down
on my knees, leaned forward
levitating
in blue dandelion seed cloud
casting, with open gates behind me

The levels
don’t really matter, now
though, back then
I remember chasing
days /played
quantified and captured
in little bubbles, always looking for safety
in numbers that can be raised
infinitely
where progress is always made
celebrated
and kept, with persistence
where rules are always known
and followed, consistent
at least that
was my experience
giving and receiving
free buffs
at the Qeynos Gates

Back of the Page

Do you have a safe place you like to revisit from childhood?

Maybe you’re lucky enough to have a childhood home that’s still in the family, or you wander your old neighborhood by driving by - seeing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same.

This poem is about doing that trip down memory lane in a digital space - an online role-playing game I played with my brother when I was 15, called EverQuest. Some of my favorite memories were of spending time with my brother adventuring in this game (yes, we also had plenty of real-world adventures).

We’d often get lost and caught in tough predicaments together, having to find our way out. If we died, we’d have to re-trace our steps, recollecting our items from deep within a dungeon zone. The game was very challenging, and was designed to require players to cooperate.

When I first started the game, I remember seeing a high-level character sitting quietly by the Qeynos1 town gates, a popular zone for newbies like me. Every now and then, they would stand up and begin casting a spell - waves of blue, green, and orange particles would swirl around them, floating. As the casting finished, the spell would settle onto its targeted player, like a cloud of dandelion seeds being absorbed - and the person would receive benefits.

I stood in front of this light show, immersed in the spell effects swirling around each player. Finally, it was my turn, and without needing to ask, the Player buffed me with all sorts of goodies: increased armor, barbs that reflected damage to anyone attacking me, and health regeneration - for 20 minutes or so, I was unstoppable.

For some reason, that memory had a lasting effect on me. I stopped playing the game after high school, and feel like the portal to EverQuest is closed behind me, but still - every 10 years or so, when something big is happening in my life, I return to my Druid character. I teleport to the newbie zone, Qeynos, and sit by the gates, waiting.

This time, the zone was empty - everyone is off enjoying the high-level content after 25 years of expansion packs for the game2. But then, I saw it - one player walking down the path! My altruistic hunting ritual could begin. They will benefit from my unsolicited help!

I approached them and noticed they were followed by another character with a golden name, and were already absolutely covered head-to-toe in buffs. It was an A.I. Merc that they had hired to buff and heal them, without the need to group with real players. No matter, I thought - I can surely offer something of value to them! After many attempts, I found a spell they didn’t have, and cast it on them. The shimmering waves swelled and landed peacefully on their character, and I expected a nod, or a thank you. Instead, the person ran off, without a word - their A.I. Merc following behind them. “Good luck to you!” I said, in the area chat…as they faded away, down the road.3

This sort of thing could make me sad, but, instead, I think it reminds me to look around in my current moment. Instead of looking backward, and trying to relive memories, what is in front of me right now? Who are the people that I get to spend time with today, and what was I looking for by visiting this digital memory space?

Now, I know that I seek these experiences out when I’m starting something new, or something big is coming my way, and it’s my subconscious way of holding onto a comforting hand from the past, in a space that was predictable and consistent regardless of what else was happening in the world.

“I’m still here” it says, “but you’ve moved on.”
“I remember everything we did, back then…and I think you’re ready for what’s next.”

Happy adventuring, out there. 🗺️