In 2006, Coca-Cola was printing 'Do something you’ve never done before' on its cans. It felt like everything was just beginning. That summer I had just finished seventh grade. My math was bad enough that I went to a cram school with a friend. I don’t remember worrying about grades. I remember the internet cafes near the cram school: Shengshi, Boya, Jichang, Wangshi Rufeng.
When I first heard about World of Warcraft, I thought it was just a new version of Warcraft III. I’d watched people play it, but I hadn’t really seen a 3D game before, so I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. I only noticed that a lot of the icons looked familiar. Then one morning I told my parents I was going out for an early run, asked for two yuan for breakfast, and ten minutes later I was in Elwynn Forest, doing something I’d never done before.
Fourteen years have gone by. In that time I finished high school and college. I skipped classes in high school and pulled all-nighters in college, all for World of Warcraft. I’ve been to Harbin and Wuhan, traveled south and north, and even during airport layovers I found internet cafes and logged in. Sometimes I wondered whether I was wasting my life. Other times I was sure that HearthStone’s next generation would be born in Elwynn Forest.
Every new expansion, I’d rally friends and protect Azeroth again with ridiculous enthusiasm. This time I can’t muster any. I even had a plan to recreate the old days: on a weekend afternoon, find an internet cafe far from home, take a corner machine, log in, go to Lakeshire, to Stillwater Lake, and help Hilary find the necklace she dropped in the water. I could tell stories for days.
Then a Zhihu thread changed my thinking—the question about World of Warcraft Classic launching on August 27, 2019, and one answer by Vigilius. Some things really can’t be returned to. I’ve already done those things. They made me happy. Pretending I haven’t done them only makes me sad. Last week HearthStone started a comeback campaign. We’ve already settled on Haholan-Alliance. I still have no desire to go back.
That’s my choice. Maybe one day I’ll spend 75 yuan to look at that world again, but not now. I keep telling myself not to expect it to feel beautiful. Back then a 30-yuan game card took forever to save for; I might have lied about needing money for exercise books. Now a 75-yuan monthly subscription is nothing, but I won’t play along with Blizzard’s version of self-deception.
When school ended, I’d run to an internet cafe, sit in a corner, and skip buying drinks to save money. The place was loud and crowded; I never felt alone. If I went back to my own room now, with my own computer, every setting maxed out and no lag, and made myself a cup of Earl Grey, I’d feel a helpless kind of loneliness. I didn’t have many worries then—just don’t get caught by parents or teachers. If I played well, classmates might even envy me. Now my head is full of trouble. Everything feels connected to me and nothing feels connected to me. Sleep feels like the best way out.
Years ago, I was thrilled to complete a set of imperial red gear. It wasn’t actually a set, but it looked like one. If I look back at my last stretch of adventuring in Azeroth, all I remember is that a polearm from some dungeon had better stats. Back then my character was called 'Chapter Seven of the Night,' an orc arms warrior. These days Jay Chou rarely puts out new albums. Later I was 'Dreamer Vijer,' a human warrior. Maybe after a long while I’ll log in as 'Awakened Vijer.' But not now. It will be a very, very long while.
I feel a little lighter, as if Blizzard is no longer chasing me, forcing me to play something. Still, I can’t cut World of Warcraft out of my heart completely. I want Azeroth to get better, but there’s a helplessness in that. When Azeroth was scarred before, we repaired it again and again. Now it’s fragmented, and I can’t repair it one more time. Blizzard has lost Azeroth’s heart.
As Blizzard itself once said, no king rules forever. But I’m waiting—waiting for the next time Blizzard gives me a good enough reason to soar over Azeroth again. And to the warriors who are starting over: I wish you well. Please guard Azeroth. Make a new legend.
Still—I can already feel myself caving.