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| Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2026 |
Hearing that squeaking, squawking and droning-buzz of your modem dialling into the internet via your landline sent a shiver of excited anticipation up your spine. It honestly felt as if you were waiting for a secret portal to open, and allow you to step into another world.
And back then, it truly was.
CHATROOM MAYHEM.
Chatrooms were the internet social hubs, and you had — for the time — weird and wonderful names popping up. The chat was intense. Rooms were created for specific topics, and considering the early era of the internet, policing was quite low key, so online conversations could get heated and spicy.
I recall one Saturday morning, being bored, I logged onto the internet and headed to the chatroom portal. I discovered an Asian chatroom dedicated to learning English. So I thought, “Why not?” and joined. To my great surprise they were doing a chatroom version of karaoke.
I waited for the person singing to finish, and then politely introduced myself. I was warmly and enthusiastically welcomed, and they insisted I sing a song.
For some inexplicable reason (and to this day I have no clue why), John Denver’s Take Me Home, Country Road popped into my head. I jumped right in and gave it my all.
The silence was total.
When I finished, there were some mutterings in a language I couldn’t name, then more silence. Then I was kicked from the room.
It could have been the fact I couldn’t (and still can’t) sing to save my life — I’ll never know — but it made me laugh. I remember thinking, “Charming.”
ENTER: ONLINE GAMING.
With the advent of PC games turning to online play, my world tilted in a way I had never thought possible. I was enthralled. Still, there were very few people encountered, which made those moments when you did all the more special.
Daft as I know it sounds, when encountering another player, you’d quite literally sit bolt upright, as if you’d just encountered a mythical beast. Game lobbies were usually empty, so you would create your own, fill it with bots and hope someone might join — that beautiful, incredible, mythical creature.
And when they did, you’d spend the game chasing each other down, trying to shoot one another. It was never malicious. Whereas today, you often encounter players who are blatantly malicious, cruel and spiteful.
THE QUIET SHIFT.
It’s a funny thought, but back when it all started out, people logged in to be somewhere. And I’ve come to realise, the internet didn’t get louder — we’ve become quieter inside.
In the early days, a friends list meant something. Seeing a familiar name pop online felt like bumping into someone at the pub, and time wasn’t measured in notifications, but conversations.
Now? Everyone’s “connected”, but no one’s present. And when an old name lights up, it feels like spotting a ghost you’re glad to see, but unsure how to talk to anymore.
I’m not saying things were better back then — they just felt different. And today, I’m starting to notice what’s been lost.
I could name several games where I’ve been a guild leader and now they’re close to being online ghost towns. Friends lists full, but greyed out. Some games even show how many days have elapsed since someone last logged on, and most are measured in years.
It’s hard to ignore the echoes of voices long since gone silent and not feel a pang of sadness.
The days of gamers who were vocal, warm and full of personality have been replaced by a distance and silence. I’ve had former guild members message me privately in World of Warcraft after I tried encouraging them to join voice chat, admitting they were anxious about speaking at all.
The internet demographic has evolved, and with it the way people interact socially within games.
A NEW DAWN.
Currently, as you may or may not know from previous posts, I’m playing ARC Raiders. I avoid PvP and focus on PvE, and I go out of my way to be friendly — chatting and using proximity voice where I can.
Of those who reply with voice, most seem to be in the 40+ age group. There are younger players, of course, but they’re fewer and farther between. The rest rely on emotes or say nothing at all.
Those who stay silent often turn out to be solo PvP players, out to ambush others and take their gear.
Time passes quietly. Online, you see it in the rise and fall of player numbers and the slow fading of activity in your friends list.
In many ways it’s a natural evolution. But when the silence grows, and you’re sat in front of your monitor with no friends online and a once-favourite game now feeling empty, it can hit hard.
And that’s when the thought creeps in:
“I don’t see the same people anymore… and I don’t even know when that happened.”
But here’s the thing — the internet isn’t the world. It’s only a small part of it. There’s still a living, breathing world outside your front door, full of real people.
And who knows… maybe even a new friend waiting to be discovered.
I leave you with Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here".
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