We drifted apart many years before, around 2009, when I began to show signs of addiction and my parents uninstalled the game from my computer. At this tail end of true childhood- before girlfriends and college, before quarantine, before the fires turned California into an orange world where the sky bled like a sunset all day- Kano and I spent thousands of hours together, living and dying in World of Warcraft.įour years ago, Kano died from brain cancer. Eleven and 12 years old, with the chemical murmur of adolescence around the bend, our worlds were a string of question marks and exclamation points, from the acne on our faces to new dreams of becoming a doctor (him) and a writer (me). We were growing and learning what we could with these bodies. Watch me, as he moves through the water, transformed.
Through Ventrilo, the ancestor of Discord that compelled Kano and me to compel our mothers to buy spongy microphones from Best Buy, I hear his pride.
#World of warcraft cracked
I sit at the edge of this shining pool, surrounded by palm trees and red centaurs in an expanse of cracked earth, and I watch him with awe. This oasis is where he wanted to cast this spell for the first time. This is something he learned today, spent all day walking the endless plains of the Barrens, killing this and collecting that (with me healing him along the way) to finally complete his quest: A seer teaches him Aquatic Form, he surges with gold light and reaches level 17. My cousin Kano emerges from the oasis water as something aquatic, fins where his feet used to be, tusks sprouted from his mouth, gliding.
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