Imagine a younger me, playing a fine afternoon of summer as days tick down towards my Junior year of high school in the year of our Nayru, 2007. What was I doing, you may ask? Playing Runescape, as any basement dweller hiding from the sun would. However, it was after an exhaustive six hours of reading a most fantastic book. Not just any book, though; no, this was the finale of the Harry Potter series, Deathly Hallows. Having worked over halfway into the book, my mind was fried by magical literature, and so I took my overworked soul into some mini-games on Jagex’s MMO, namely Castle Wars. A relatively simple venture, I was minding my own business and freezing some fool who took our flag, and in came the worst villain I have seen in Runescape history. To this day, I shall remember Buttholio69’s dark words as he ran around the field, shouting to anyone who came too close. (I don’t actually remember the dude’s name, so Buttholio69 is assumed here, as his gender for some reason).
“Buttholio69: Glow2:flash2: HARRY POTTER DIES, DOBBY DIES, VOLDEMORT DIES, HARRY MARRIES GINNY, FRED DIES, THERE’S OWLS AND DRAGONS, NAGINI DIES, ETC. ETC”
This foul demon Buttholio69, who I can only imagine to this day has a decent office job and sits on writing articles about movies that haven’t come out yet, succeeded in doing what he wanted; he spoiled me on the book I took a break from. Having waited months, years even, I innocently made the horrid mistake of going to a public interface without finishing one my favorite books of my high school days. It might have been the best book ever, but unfortunately the shock value Joanne Rowling had in store for me was snatched away, leaving a bitter aftertaste in the wake of finer plot points.
Of course, we all have had that moment happen to us. Game of Throne fans have been black lighting their Facebook accounts and shutting down their Twitter use with every season. It certainly hasn’t done us much good when a single person has just enough control of contacting us, indirectly or no, to say the wrong words at the wrong time. All it tastes is one picture, one tweet, one excited post of someone who watched it the second it comes out and wants the world to know of their glorious accomplishment. Are those people monsters, though?
No, not really, but you bet your Star Wars VHS collection that for the first few seconds you want to make a voodoo doll for them.
It still throttles my simple mind that people think it’s a valid strategy to “be the first” at the cost of ruining other’s first impressions. What good do the extra clicks give when ultimately your fan base gets burnt by your work? By long-term standards, it’s almost website suicide, depending on what the dark words happen to be about. Young studs with the power of knowledge seem to think that they’ll be battered with praises on YouTube when they blast people’s recommended videos with “GAME THAT CAME OUT 24 HOURS AGO AND ALL THE BOSSES AND CUTSCENES”, slathering their preview picture with more spoilers than a Honda Civic.
Hell, I bet in the mid-90s when Titanic came out that if there was a widespread internet, people would be screaming from the highest wifi towers, “OMG DID YOU SEE THE SHIP SINK??”.
Oh, and heads up:
Should I get over all of it? Probably. It’s futile to think that secrets people of the world can access will stay secret from you for long. The age of the internet has gifted and cursed us with the fastest form of information spread, and to be angry that the few of the millions are freaking attention seeking idiots is a fool’s game. On the flip side, does that mean I shouldn’t let myself be excited over the mystery of the story? That’s almost as cruel, thinking about it. I suppose the only advice I can offer is to constrict your eyes when you treasure those moments, and do your best to flame someone positively, like compliment their dumb face that they have plastered next to their tweet about how such and such events that happen in the currently unreleased Mario Odyssey, which comes out this October 27th.
In the meantime, I’ll keep my whining butt back to the corner and temporarily gouge my eyes out so I don’t have to read about Bowser and Mario’s pepperoni nipples and why they represent the upcoming Nintendocalypse. I don’t even know what that means.