Their Knowledge Is Very (DS) Lite

, , , , , | Right | September 22, 2020

It is 2013. A customer has come in to trade in a Nintendo DS Lite and several games. I am finishing up his transaction.

Customer: “So, this is a PS3, right?”

Me: “What is, sir?”

Customer: “This thing that I’m trading in. Isn’t it a PS3?”

Me: “No, sir, this is a Nintendo DS.”

Customer: “Oh. The PS3 is the latest version, then.”

Me: “You’re thinking of the 3DS. The PS3 is the large black system over there.”

Customer: “Oh, so, that one that says it comes with The Walking Dead and is $199 is the 3DS?”

Me: “That’s the PlayStation Vita. The 3DS is the one above it.”

Customer: “Oh. What’s the Vita?”

Me: “It’s the handheld gaming system from Sony that—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “Do you think I should get one?”

Please, if you don’t know what something is, don’t just spend $200 on it.

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A Fantasy Epic For The Ages

, , , , , | Right | September 10, 2020

I used to work for a customer support line for a large fantasy MMORPG (Massively-Multiplayer-Online Role-Playing Game). To date, this one call I received is the craziest, most epic, most unbelievable-but-true customer experience I have ever received.

A man calls in saying he is having “connectivity issues.” I check his account and his character name already indicates he is going to be a character. It is something like LaDyKiLlEr69, with the studly caps and innuendos included.

Caller: “Yeah, so, I can’t find anyone.”

Me: “So you can’t see other people on the server?”

Caller: “No, I can see other players, but I can’t find my friends. Fix it.”

His tone is blunt and demanding but nothing I can’t handle. I check a few more things and see nothing wrong with his connection, and our service is running fine.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t find anything that could be causing your issue. Have you tried resetting the—”

The caller interrupts with a laborious sigh.

Caller: “Listen, dear.”

He does not call me “dear” with endearment.

Me: “Maybe one of your man-agers can handle me from now on. Go fetch one.”

He emphasizes the “man” part of “manager.”

Me: “Sir, I… I am going to login to the game as an admin right now. That way I will see you and your avatar in-game and might better be able to assess the situation.” 

Caller: “Be quick. My friends were talking about doing a raid today and I always carry them through. They can’t win without me.”

I log in and “see” his avatar for the first time. If you’re picturing a frat-boy douchebag named Chad or Brock, well… then you know what he intentionally made his in-game avatar look like. It’s a fantasy world where you can be multiple creatures and genders, with impossible hair and clothing, and he chose to be Chad. 

Not one to dwell too much on preference, I start trying to diagnose his issue. Suddenly, he’s screaming on the phone.

Caller: “There he is! You fixed it! Hey! Come back, f***er!”

Me: “Sir, I—” 

Caller: “I said come back, you r****d!”

I realize he is not talking to me, but to another player’s avatar. I see Chad69 chase down this other player through a part of the game. My omniscient admin-avatar feels compelled to follow.

Caller: “Hey! Why aren’t you talking to me?!”

Sir: “Sir, are you talking to me?”

Caller: “Yes, you idiot! I can see my friends but they can’t see or hear me! What did you do to me?! Did you make me invisible, you b****?!”

Sir: “Sir, that is not within my power. I think the problem may be—”

Caller: “They’re going into the raid! Oh, f***, they’re all gonna die without me! I have to follow!”

I suspect I finally know what might be happening here. I identify the player that my caller is talking about and check their logs. When players sign up to the game they sign a terms and conditions document that says admins have access to their in-game party chats, so I am allowed to do this.

This other player has been having a conversation with their party in a party-chat. I am a fast reader so I review.

Other Player #1: “Oh, crap. He found me.”

Other Player #2: “I told you we should have all migrated to a different server; he was bound to bump into us.”

Other Player #1: “What do I do? I can’t just keep ignoring him.”

Other Player #3: “Why not? He’ll get the hint soon enough. I know he’s slow but we’ve made it pretty obvious we don’t want him around anymore.”

Other Player #1: “Yeah, but he’s literally chasing me.”

Other Player #2: “Teleport out when you get out of the city.”

I am about to go back to the call to let this guy (who is still shouting at his ex-friends, ignoring me on the phone) know that when it comes to the game, it’s not us, it’s him, but then something is said later in this group chat that catches my attention.

Other Player #3: “That f*** took all my loot in [Raid] and said it was because he carried us through it. Deluded idiot kept getting his a** killed every minute and blaming me for not healing him fast enough! He did not know how to apply buffs to himself; he just runs in and charges!”

Other Player #2: “Well, how about we take him with us this time?”

Other Player #3: “No way in h***.”

Other Player #2: “Listen, let’s bring him along and…”

They start concocting a plan for revenge. The following things happen in quick succession: I end the call with The Chad, explaining that I have helped him find his friends. He grunts and hangs up with all the gratitude of a cat in a bathtub. I then take a quick break and remain logged in, munching the virtual popcorn, knowing what is about to happen. 

The other players welcome The Chad back into their fold and endure his condescending, often misogynistic and racist comments for a while. I witness them start their raid, which involves infiltrating an old castle and defeating some dragons.

True to their earlier description, The Chad is a TERRIBLE player. He plays an attacking type but has zero sense of strategy or defense. He keeps barking demeaning orders to his teammates to heal him and keep him alive while he just hacks and slashes.

The other three players just stand there… doing nothing.

He dies, quickly.

None of them heal him. The three then dispatch the dragon easily and quickly, because they know how to work as a team, even with a man down. Then they approach the fallen body of The Chad, who is hurling insults at them about not healing him and how they failed him.

Then all three characters start dancing; there are many fun downloadable animations in the game. All three start dancing over the fallen Chad, then squatting over his face, then dancing a little more.

They then all simply quit the raid and unfriend him again, leaving him dead on the floor. He eventually signs himself out, surprisingly silent. 

On my last day in that job, I quickly logged into his account to see any updates, only to realize he hadn’t logged in again since that day. I guess even in a fantasy land, you can’t be a racist, misogynistic jerk!


Share your experience today!

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Not So Hot On The Hotspot, Part 2

, , , , , | Friendly | September 5, 2020

Whist on annual leave during the summer holidays, we take the kids out to the countryside. It is a beautiful day and we decide to stop and have a few drinks and lunch in a pub.

While my seventeen-year-old daughter is very sociable and quite happy to sit in a pub garden enjoying the sunshine, my twelve-year-old son isn’t. He is autistic and actively avoids social situations, even with family, and hates to have his routine disrupted.

However, we have found that as long as he has access to his games through his phone or tablet he will stay relatively happy as he can zone out.

My wife, daughter, and I sit in a picnic-type pub while table my son plonks himself on a bench nearby and proceeds to play his games. We have been sat in the pub garden for an hour or so when a couple of women come into the garden with three children and sit themselves in the shade next to the pub. No biggie, as we are at the top (sunny) end of the garden.

After about twenty minutes, the mother of the three children approaches my son.

Woman: *Demanding tone* “Are you playing online? My son cannot access the pub Wi-Fi.”

The signal is poor in the garden area.

Son: *Nervously* “Yes.”

He holds up the mobile Wi-Fi device he is using.

Woman: “What’s that?”

I respond as my son is now showing signs of elevated anxiety.

Me: “It’s a mobile Wi-Fi device so he can play his games.”

Woman: “How do I connect to it? My son needs to play his games!”

Me: “I’m afraid you can’t. There is limited data on it and it is for my son’s use.”

Woman: “But my son can’t play his games.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem.”

Woman: “But why should your son be able to play his games and not my son?”

Daughter: “Because we brought a mobile device and you didn’t.”

Gotta love my daughter!

Me: “As I said, it’s for my son’s use and there is limited data on it. End of.”

The woman then stomps back to her table in a huff and we think nothing more of it. 

I have to point out that even if she had asked politely, I would have still said no as the range on the thing is pretty poor which meant her son would have had to sit near my son to use it. This would have only raised my son’s anxiety levels and he would not have been happy.

About ten minutes later, she shouts across the garden in a rather jubilant tone.

Woman: “Ha! I’ve managed to connect to your device!”

Me: “I doubt that, since you haven’t got the password.”

Woman: “I don’t need it; I have put my own in.”

I’m like, “Whatever; there’s no way she connected to it.” We carry on chatting for another hour before getting up to leave. As we pass her table, she demands to know.

Woman: “Why is your service provider charging me for data?”

Me: “They’re not; you were never connected to my device.”

Woman: “Yes, they are… look!”

She thrusts her phone in my face.

Me: “I’m not with [Provider]… but I assume you are?”

I do not stay any longer and am not prepared to “discuss” the situation with her.

Daughter: “She probably selected personal hotspot option, thinking it was our device, from her own device but there was not enough data available. When she entered her password it was to purchase additional data!”

Related:
Not So Hot On The Hotspot

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The Day You Go From A Game Boy To A Man

, , , , | Right | August 20, 2020

I work in a game store that sells both retro and new games. This guy around fifteen years old comes up to me to ask about an older item.

Customer: “Hey, how much is a Game Boy?”

Me: “What kind of Game Boy were you looking for?”

Customer: “Uh… just a Game Boy.”

Me: “What kind? The original, Game Boy Pocket, Game Boy Color, Game Boy Advance, Game Boy Advance SP?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “You know, the one that folds.”

Me: “So, you want an SP?”

Customer: “Yeah, I guess. That’s the one that plays these games, right?” *Points to the DS games*

Me: *Pause* “No, that would be the NDS.”

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Sounds Like The OP Is The Braaaaaains Of This Operation

, , , , , | Related | August 10, 2020

Growing up, my brother and I often play video games together, with him at the controls and me paying attention to the plot and telling him where to go next. He is horribly dyslexic but has great coordination, whereas I am an excellent reader but lack the dexterity to play many kind of games. This usually works out well, but, being siblings, we would end up bickering sometimes.

At the time of this story, I am seven and my brother is eleven. We’re playing the latest game in a popular green-clad-hero series and have just gotten an add-on for the system that lets us discover hidden areas by vibrating, or maybe rumbling, the controller. Since we’re not doing anything plot-related at the moment, my brother has decided my directions are more annoying than helpful — fair — and tells me to stop talking. So, I do.

Then, he falls into a hidden hole he just found, into a dark room with a gaunt figure crouched in the fetal position in the middle. Ominous ambient sounds play. My immediate thought is, “That’s a zombie.” I say nothing.

My brother approaches the creature fearlessly. “It’s going to eat his brains,” I think, keeping quiet.

He gets within arms reach of the monster and it shrieks, locking his character in place. We both jump and he starts frantically mashing buttons as the totally-a-zombie climbs on him and quickly drains away his life. Game over. I start laughing.

Brother: “What’s so funny?! Did you know that would happen?!”

Me: “It was obviously a zombie!”

Brother: “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Me: “You told me to shut up!”

He didn’t like that answer and chased me out of his room… for just a bit… until he got stuck on the next quest and had to ask me where to go.

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