In the ’90s, computers were magic.
Intel processors like the 286, 386, 486… and then the mighty Pentium.
Glossy gaming magazines like Secret Service were our holy scripture.
We dreamed of games we couldn’t even play yet. And when someone in the neighborhood got a PC — it was a community event.
In 1997, I got my own: a 486 DX5 133MHz, with a monochrome monitor.
Didn’t matter. I could game.
Diablo I, Duke Nukem 3D, Settlers — I’d fall into the screen for 8–10 hours straight.
And every time I stopped, it felt like I was re-entering another dimension.
A Desperate Escape
That era of my life was filled with emotional chaos.
My family was going through massive problems. I was a social, extroverted kid, but these games pulled me into isolation — then spit me out feeling guilty.
I loved fantasy.
I read books, played tabletop RPGs like Warhammer and Kryształy Czasu. But they weren’t enough. I needed escape — and I found it.
Text-based MMORPGs.
MUDs. First “Studnia Dusz”, then “Cygnus Division”.
It was incredible.
Real players, real interactions.
And I wasn’t just playing — I was someone.
I was one of the best in a 300-person community.
And then… the developers ruined it. Politics. Changes. They broke it.
Looking back?
That was a blessing.
Because it finally got me to stop.
The Cycle Begins Again
But addiction morphs.
I moved on to Counter-Strike 1.5.
I no-lifed it. Trained relentlessly. Climbed high.
Within a year, I was scrimming with Poland’s top 20–30 teams.
And then came the perfect storm: World of Warcraft.
It was everything.
MMO + PvP + community + fantasy — and I went all in.
Played through Burning Crusade. Reached Gladiator rank.
Our 3v3 team was top 7–8 in our PvP realm pool.
It felt amazing.
And it stole years of my life.
I partied. I gamed.
And I neglected everything else — especially my studies.
(Ended up finishing university 2 years late because of it.)
The Turning Point
I was 27.
And for the first time… I was losing my edge.
The sharp reflexes were fading.
My reaction time, my aim — everything I’d built — was declining.
I checked my playtime: over 3000 hours on just one character.
3000 hours.
Enough to learn multiple languages.
Master a sport.
Start a business.
Build a better life.
Then I saw a YouTube video.
A guy reviewed his WoW hours, made a list of everything he could’ve done, then burned his Burning Crusade box on a grill.
It hit me.
A Different Frame
I stopped looking back.
Stopped dwelling on regret.
I said:
“Olimp, if you could work 16 hours a day to succeed in a game…
then you have the grit, the work ethic, and the obsession to succeed in life.”
So I did.
I slowly rebuilt.
I became a late bloomer — but one who made it.
And no, I don’t look at this with arrogance.
I look at it with gratitude.
Because as UFC legend Khabib Nurmagomedov once said:
_“A lot of people, when they become famous or rich or successful,
they say, ‘It’s because of my mindset, my hard work, my business brain.’
But what about the millions of people who also work hard — and don’t get this position?This is a test from God.
He gives it to you to see how you’ll handle it.”_
Final Thoughts
I’m proud of the man I’ve become.
But I’ll never forget the boy who was lost in virtual worlds.
He wasn’t lazy.
He was hurting.
He was escaping.
Gaming didn’t destroy me.
But it almost did.
And that’s why I share this story.
To remind others:
Your time is real. Your effort is real. Your potential is real.
Don’t waste it all on pixels.