At present, I am in an extremely poor state of health. I suffer sleepless
nights, mood swings ranging from elation to total desolation and cold
sweats. I have been unable to communicate with people in the real world for
many weeks now and I keep hearing voices in my sleep. As I lie there in bed
a whispering voice keeps telling me to hold onto my butt! Gawd, this is a
sign of schizophrenia ain't it? My home life has been turned upside-down by
this affliction. Where once upon a time I used to take the dog for a walk in
the evenings, He now dances around the coffee table with his legs crossed.
The children now call the gardener dad and my poor wife, (whose name I
forget), is on the point of leaving me. My condition is a newly diagnosed
one and the prognosis is not good for there is no known cure. I have to
confess that I am an ***. I am ***ed to a strange phenomenon that has
blighted this planet over the last six months. I suffer all the symptoms of
an *** and am about to embark on a life of crime to feed this expensive
habit. My phone and upgrade bills cost as much as the highest quality crack
*** or ***e!
I am referring to the world of online *** and in particular, A ***
piece of software called GPH (Grand Prix Hell or GPL for short). For many
years now, I have been an avid motorsport fan. I have a six foot span of
Autocourse annuals. I also posess many years worth of magazines that are
becoming an effective insulation, carpeting my loft. Added to this, my
shelves are full of model cars. Pride of place is reserved for the Ayrton
Senna collection of GP cars. My hobby has always kept me interested but
never before have I had trouble walking away from it. Even when I discovered
Microprose's GP 1 and 2, closely followed by F1RS, I had fun with them but
always knew when it was time to call time! That ended the Day GPH entered
my life. I downloaded what was described as a demo from the Sienna site -
Big mistake. If ever there was a computer virus, this was the mother and
father of them all.
As with many viruses, the incubation period took some time before symptoms
started to show and the thing started to replicate. After a few weeks of
fun, trying to keep the Lotus in a straight line, wondering what real racing
was going to be like with full fields and comparing lap times with others,
strange things started to happen to my pc. Every time my web browser was
fired up it automatically homed in to all the GPH virus pages that had
started sprouting up like mushrooms. Upon each visit, my hard drive became
more cluttered with downloaded files. The Lotus was replicating. I had a
blue Lotus, A red one and one that sounded different to the others.
Following this, I found that the demo track had replicated and mutated.
There was no stopping the beast now. It was killing my machine slowly. Upon
reading posts in newsgroups from others similarly afflicted, I learned that
the GPH virus was *** all computers by means of hogging all CPU
cycles and demanding more. The only thing to do was to put my p166 to sleep
and donate it's heart for transplant. The hard drive was subsequently placed
in a young but strong Celeron 300A system. a pacemaker was also installed in
the guise of a V2 card. The baby computer was doing well and all seemed at
on with the world for a while. How wrong I was.
Time went by and I noticed slight changes in my behaviour. GPH had become a
large part of my life. I was spending more and more time trawling Newsgroups
for news of a release date - the full onslaught that was to threaten the
whole social order of the world as we knew it. My PC had directed me to a
mushroom site where I had been compelled to pre-order a super resiliant
version of the virus. I became very uneasy in my mind. I started chanting
like a Krishna monk Glen 1:14, 1:13, 1:12. Round and round and round it
went, like that song we all hate to hear but refuses to leave us all day
after hearing it on the radio at breakfast.
What I / we never realised at the time of doing out pc transplants was that
this computer virus was turning biological. GPH had entered the *** of
thousands of sim racers all over the world.
Right on cue, a small box with a beautiful picture on the front dropped
through my doorstep. A voice in my head called out to me.
"Do it do it do it do it". The cd promptly found it's way into the coke can
holder on my CD drive. Suddenly, a sense of well being came over me I had
entered a whole new world. At this juncture, I embarked on a world of
discovery. There were many dangers along the way. Trees became animated and
jumped out in front of me. Monsters drove similar cars to mine and at every
opportunity, they attempted to ram me into the aforementioned trees. There
was a particularly *** one called the Surtees. He was mean as they come
and I feared for my life until I came upon an amazing discovery. I was - if
not immortal, able to regenerate new life into myself and my trusty steed
upon the moment of death. That was it. It was time to get my own back and
reek some revenge. If only I could catch these monsters. Try as I did, I
just could not get close. Every time I reduced the gap, one of the living
trees would reach out and grab me. At this point I heard faint voices. It
sounded something like "night daddy". Later on I heard more ranting coming
from out of the either. This time, the voice sounded fainter. "Darling have
you seen the time. Are you coming to bed". I'm not sure where those voices
came from or what they were but They sure did haunt me. I Still hear similar
noises from time to time, though less frequently nowadays.
That was six months ago. It was a momentous day. A day when I realised that
I had finally entered my own private hell. My GPHell. It is like a perpetual
treadmill. the only way that I will escape this hell is to kill the enemy -
the demons that haunt me. Try as I may I can never get within reach. The
faster I go, the faster they go, The trees catch me out less and less
nowadays but when they do, They get me in a big way. Will I ever escape? I
doubt it somehow. If I was ever to catch and beat the demons, I know that
there are other mutations to kill as well. These come in the form of VROC
super mutations. The AI as they are called (ALTOGETHER IMPOSSIBLE to catch)
have mutated to human form. The nastiest of these have been identified and
have been called Lakes and Woegers. Even with all my best efforts to catch
and defeat these mutations, they seem to have the ability to sneak up on me
from behind and taunt me. The word on the virtual street is that other more
sinister developments are afoot. A software based mutation has started
seeping out of the Sienna Towers that will handicap my steed even further.
It will make it stumble and scrabble for grip. I have also heard that an
independant mutation has come into being that offers infinate variations
upon a theme. Where will it ever end? Nowadays I'm even under the illusion
that fellow sufferers can now talk to me through my PC speakers from distant
lands, in an attempt to form fellowships and clans called leagues. The
trouble with this is that they also want to compete with me in an attempt to
find their own solace. Net result? They can be more dangerous than the real
enemy. Most notable of these voices are the Barlow and MacGregor versions.
I conclude by saying if there is a Crammond up there in the heavens, please
forgive me for my sins. I repent now in the hope that one day you will
rescue me. <G>
Mark