„I still remember those LAN parties like it was yesterday,“ old grandfather Arno uttered while attaching fiber optics to his neural interface. It connected with a swift, almost inaudible ‚ClIcK!‘.
„Spending entire weekends huddled around our bulky CRT monitors, fueled by pizza and energy drinks as we battled it out in Counter-Strike for hours on end.“ he continued. „There was nothing quite like the electricity in the air during a big Unreal Tournament with everyone cheering and yelling as the final rounds were played.“
Something seemed off for a second. Old Arno’s eyes moving rapidly behind closed eyelids. Then – calm.
„I was lucky enough to attend the ‚1 thousand Man LAN‘ back in the early 2000s in the Netherlands – what an experience that was. Over 1000 gamers mostly under-age, their parents oblivious of where they escorted their kids, packed into a warehouse together, the noise was deafening but the energy was incredible. I’ll never forget the entire craziness of what unfolded in front of us, as I attended with my girlfriend and her brother.“
Arno lifted his hands as if he was about to create something out of thin air. „There, I did it! Locked up memories solidified in eternal crystals,“ he mumbled. He opens his eyes, but doesn’t seem to be really present. Smiling: „Those really were the glory days. Gaming felt like such an underground subculture then, right? It brought us all together. I miss the camaraderie and face-to-face competition, but I’m grateful to have experienced that special era before online gaming eventually took over. Flipping through ‚LAN Party‘ and seeing those old photos transports me right back, and I have to say – I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything. So, better lock ‚em up right here – signed with my own neural brain-wave private key. The future was bright and the games were epic. And now excuse me, I’m in for a ‚Nostalgia Trip‘, it’s something you can not download but is transported on a plain USB stick with some rather strange edged marking on its side. See you later!“
His eyes fall back onto themselves as he starts moving invisible objects with his hands on a plane only he is aware of. Bye bye, Arno, and take care of your real body once in a while, it’s your temple.