Richard Garriott invented the MMORPG, and the computer system he invented found a way to kill him, just like '80s movies warned. Ultima Online was the first MMORPG to hit 100,000 players, teaching developers a lot about social interaction and game economics and what colossal dicks players were about both. Naive programmers spent months coding adventures and monsters only to watch players immediately set about raping and pillaging the game mechanics, the physical laws of their world and each other. If MMORPG players were around when God said, "Let their be light" they'd have called the light gay, and plunged the universe back into darkness by squatting their nutsacks over it.
Dog-headed humanoids riding horses and lots of naked people -- yep, it's online all right.
Roving gangs of high-level players exterminated noobs the instant they arrived. It was the Jurassic Park of griefers, except velociraptors were more welcoming because their little hands can't type "FAG" on a keyboard. They used glitches to duplicate items and wrecked the game's economy, showing more hatred for newly arrived citizens and blatant disregard for financial logic than the Tea Party's right wing.
Not that one. Well, yeah, maybe that one, too.
When Mr. Garriot visited the cyberworld of violent murderers he'd created, it was a Dr. Moreauvian plan that yielded predictable results. First, his highly publicized appearance attracted every player in the game to one location, crashing the beta servers. The game was forced to turn off the automatic sentries dispatched to protect him. When Garriot logged back in he forgot to re-enable his invincibility option. User "Rainz" stole a fire field scroll (only possible because the guards were gone) and tried to come at the king. The attack was so randomly suicidal (Rainz had no idea the invincibility was gone) that Garriot's asbestos player-guards were already mocking the assassin over text chat, wondering how the assassin thought, "such a petty spell" could work on the invincible king -- seen right next to that text engulfed in flames.
That's him there. In the fire.
When their king suddenly burned to death they reacted about as rationally as a combined "video gamer who's been proven wrong" and a "high-level warlock with access to demons" would by summoning hordes of monsters and massacring everyone at the castle. Without guards, the players were able to fight back, triggering a full-scale virtual riot which ended with admins teleporting entire groups of players into space, where the players survived approximately as well as real people from the Middle Ages would have survived in space.
So at least it was a successful beta test -- Garriott wanted to find out what MMORPG players were like, and they killed him just to see if they could.
Second Life is a complete virtual environment that compliments reality by helping people who are no good at the real world voluntarily remove themselves. One of the biggest figures in this world is millionaire Anshe Chung. Real-world teacher Ailin Graef created Anshe as a Second Life avatar, but as the avatar's virtual business grew she took "Anshe" as a real name and had to start acting like her in interviews. She's basically a William Gibson character escaped into a real (fake) world.
This really happened, so maybe we're the fiction.
In an adorable misunderstanding of technology, CNET attempted to film a "live" interview in the virtual world, forgetting that the real studio audiences only behave because security can flatten them, and Second Life isn't TRON so that's not an option here. The interview had barely started when Anshe was bombarded with an army of flying disembodied penises.
They wouldn't televise another fake Asian with so many unbelievable dicks until Tila Tequila filmed A Shot at Love.
Unfortunately, TV networks believe their own rubbish about being able to fight hackers in real time instead of just switching the system off and cursing, so she was left at the mercy of armies of cyber-cocks. She teleported out to escape what was rapidly becoming a Japanese cartoon, then revealed that she doesn't know how virtual worlds work either. Deciding not to return to the now secure CNET studio, she invited everyone into her own home server instead. There are men hopping back into minefields on one leg with better pattern recognition than that. The cockbardment immediately resumed with mind-bending meta-porn of her virtual body attacked by pictures of her real body photoshopped to hold a fake penis.
The attack was so filthy we had to add pixels to a world that was already entirely pixelated.
The horrible cock-mobile mindlessly pressing against fake women brought down her entire server, generated a lot of publicity for the event and gave TV executives the idea for Jersey Shore.
Player "Cally" won at EVE Online despite it being a massively multiplayer game with no victory condition. Other players earn ISK (game currency) by mining, completing quests or killing each other. Cally, on the other hand, simply asked for it. And it worked, and there was nothing they could do about it. Because while the other losers went into the economy as honest workers, or corporations, he realized he could go in as a bank.
The novice mode for illegal profiteering.
He spent months running the "EVE Intergalactic Bank (EIB)." This offered loans for start-up EVE corporations and miners who wanted to buy tools, with interest rates and repayment plans and yes, we're still talking about a game people apparently play for fun.
Move over Pac-Man!
Cally certainly had fun: He fulfilled the secret fantasy of every bank manager in history, when one day, he walked in and just took all the money. All the money was 790 billion ISK, about $170,000 in real dollars, which he used to become the greatest video game villain of all time. He spent a huge chunk of the money to buy a ridiculously powerful warship, another chunk posting a huge bounty on his own head, then sailed off into space just daring people to kill him.
Something like this -- the biggest middle finger in history.
The ultimate dickery? He posted a 15-minute video bragging about how he got away with it, mocking his loyal employees at EIB, enemies who failed to stop him and the suckers who basically paid for a second job -- essentially paying for the right to have their money stolen. Understand: Cally is now officially smarter than every Bond villain put together, because he found a way to give an expository monologue without getting killed.
Luke also tumbles and writes on his own site. If you like videogame shenanigans, you should check out Umbrella: The Most Wasteful Movie Corporation Ever and 7 games that gave you the best weapon right away.