Forest.
Back in 1995, the internet was in its infancy and my computer skillz got me poached to develop a Web site for an international business school.

Anyone who's dabbled in coding basic HTML by hand will agree that it's piss easy. Back at the start, even before the TABLE tag existed, coding massive amounts of course materials was laborious, yes, but I could do it with my eyes closed.

Such was the monotonous nature of the work that I started looking for something a interesting to help while away the hours. And that's when I found Forest.

Forest was a 'talker' - a text-based chat system accessed via telnet - a precursor to IRC, ICQ, MSN Messenger etc. It was based in at a university in Sydney, and was very popular worldwide, with hundreds of members on at a time. Multiple channels, your own customisable content... a poor-man's Second Life.

When I found it, I recognised its addictive nature immediately. This should have set the alarm bells ringing, but no. It was the antithesis to my boring workload, and in no time at all I was hooked.

First of all, like any addiction, it was under control. My work was getting done and things were perfectly balanced.

Then I met Miss Relationship Fuckup (name changed, obviously), and things in my personal life took a massive downward turn. My dependence on Forest became entrenched, and I found myself missing deadlines, staying late to catch up but spending hours chatting online. Forest was my escape, my drug, and although I knew it was destroying my career, my work and personal friendships, I couldn't stop.

This carried on for months. I knew my bosses and co-workers suspected something was up. I was moved out of the main office into reception, on my own, which only compounded my isolation and gave me free reign to visit Forest whenever I liked.

When one of my superiors oiled the squeaky hinges on the door to reception, I knew my days on Forest were numbered. Whenever I heard the door open, I'd alt-tab out of telnet back to my work document, concealing the chat in the window behind. This worked well for a long time, until the fateful day someone called me into a meeting room as a distraction, while someone else 'found' the evidence on my computer.

By this time, I was desperate to get caught. I knew I had a massive problem and fortunately, my bosses were incredibly sympathetic. I remember crying heavily with relief when they took me aside to talk to me, and they made me visit a doctor and talk to him about the problem and get me some therapy to exorcise my demons.

The doctor laughed at me. He fucking laughed at me. I don't think I've ever wanted to murder someone to death as much as I did at that moment.

But with help, some therapy and unending support from my employers, I came through.

Didn't stop me relapsing though, oh no. ICQ, then IRC, then email, then back to Forest, AlexMUD... weed, booze, tobacco... all completely hooked.

Fortunately, now I've beaten my headmess most of those temptations have become old. Now, b3ta, Zelda games and wanking are my only compulsions.

*waves to Jason the lurker* :)
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 19 Dec 2008, 11:49, Reply)