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I started Whyville on October 2, 2004. I started my "Whyville life", you could say. My classmates were into this popular site called "Whyville" that had .net instead of .com. So weird, I thought, why would I want to sign up to that? I hardly even go on my computer! Sooner or later, though, I joined. I didn't have Java and was too scared to install it, so I could basically only read the Times, get and send mail, and shop for face parts. But still, I was happy.
Then I get a new computer when I moved the next year. I was still regularly going on the site, and would excitedly show my mom when I changed my face. The new computer, however, had Java, and I experienced the freedom of the chat rooms. By then, I had gotten another account because I was tired of my username. I talked to everyone and anyone who would respond. I participated in BC's, and was so happy when I won. I met new people when I started to play Tick-Tack-Toe and Kalah. Even though my friends had long since quit and it became "uncool" to go on Whyville, I still did, and I was happy.
Then, I fell, like many Whyvillians do, into a scam. The person took my password and took everything I had (predictably). My sister, however, was smart. I went crying to her about my account and she immediately asked my mom to check her mail. Sure enough, there was the new password for my account. Not only did I get my account back, but I had a spur of the moment thought and used that password on her account, too. It also worked, and I got everything of mine back. I could not have been happier.
Ah, the original Wishing Well. . . so many good memories made there . . . . So many friends made, and so many nights spent getting clams from it. That was, I believe, the high point for my Whyville life. I was the happiest I had ever been on this site. I miss it, and always will.
Now the most recent point of my Whyville life. Let's start with Halloween 2007. I can't even remember what I was; I think I was a vampire. Anyway, after trick or treating, I came on and tried my hardest to get as many votes I could. I got in the top . . . whatever the number was . . . and I was happy. Ecstatic, even. Let's jump to mere months ago, Prom 2008. I won Prom Queen, plain and simple. I was jumping for joy. I was . . . Wow . . . I really didn't think I would win. I had to endure the whole, "You don't deserve to win," and, "You're ugly," but I was happy.
(My Times career, as you can see, has been left out from my timeline simply because it was such a big part of my life. I remember waiting hour after hour for the new Times to come out, hoping, praying that mine would get in. I loved reading other peoples', as well as seeing my own. I loved the BBS. I loved critiquing others' writing and having discussions. I loved it all . . . Every part of it. . . .)
Now that the climax is over in my Whyville life, now is the decline. It all started with the changing of the layout. There's about a billion things I could say about that, but I'll make it short and sweet: It wasn't Whyville. It wasn't, nor will it ever be. If you say I can't handle change, you're wrong. I can handle change, but not like this. Not changing what Whyville is, in the sense of changing completely, if you know what I mean . . . . Then, new things are added here and there and I can't even keep up with it anymore. Again, I'll repeat, it's not "Whyville". I started to feel sad and disappointed in the way Whyville was going and what was happening to it. I wasn't happy.
The pearls, needless to say, have put me over my limit. This is it. This is the breaking point for me. I'm hardly getting on anymore, and when I do, I'm downright depressed. I want the old Whyville back, and no matter how much I complain, it's not going to happen. It just won't. I believe, and I'm sure I'm not the only one in Whyville's 4 million population, that Whyville has sold out. It simply does not care about it's old, veteran members anymore; only it's new ones. Whyville cares about advertisements more than its members. That's my opinion, and if you don't like it, don't let it influence you. This, I'm afraid, is the end of my Whyville life. This will be my Whyville death. I can't do this anymore. There's no fun in it anymore.
This article's intention was not necessarily to be my farewell article, though that's what it turned out to be. I am speaking for those who also are disappointed in Whyville's changes, and more generally, those who agree with what I have to say. If this is the new Whyville, I don't want to be a part of it. I can't relive my glory days in Whyville, but at least I have those sweet memories. Well, thanks Whyville . . . Thanks for those memories.
I'm amazed I got through this. Thanks Times, thanks Whyvillians, thanks Whyville . . .
We've had a good run.
*click*
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