The Rabbit Hole Has Wi-Fi

The Story Behind Leaving 773

I think I owe an explanation to all of my readers who were part of my journey in 773—how I ended up leaving the server I helped build.

Let me be clear: I never wanted to be a leader, especially not on my own.

I wasn't ready for a leadership position like that, particularly not alone. I didn't have the knowledge or the experience I needed, and I was fully aware of it.

Me becoming R5 was an accident. I simply went with the flow.

My former co-leader wanted to help me find myself again after an extremely difficult period in my life.

And I was never supposed to do it alone.

I was promised help, guidance, and mentoring. I was told I would get everything I needed to build something meaningful there.

In the end, no one remained but me.

I wanted to leave too, but I was encouraged to stay because we had people who had migrated to the server mid-season and couldn't leave. So I stayed and tried my best to make something happen.

I valued the people there. I felt responsible for them, and I was emotionally attached to the server.

So I stayed for another season while my real life was slowly falling apart.

During that time, I discovered many of my own strengths, and there were aspects of leadership that I genuinely started to enjoy. I had fun. I rediscovered parts of myself.

But I never had the team I needed to make things work properly.

I became the person who had to solve everything, who always had to be available, and eventually that became something I neither wanted nor was able to keep doing.

Leadership stopped being about building something.

It became a burden.

A constant fight instead of creation.

At the same time, my real life completely fell apart. My plans, my dreams—they all shattered. I broke, and I needed to rebuild myself.

So I quit.

Then someone told me that 773 would fall apart if I left.

So I came back.

Because I didn't want that to happen.

And to be fair, I did receive much more help after returning. But by then, I was already exhausted and completely burned out.

I desperately wanted to step down as R5.

I wasn't enjoying the game anymore.

Eventually, I got the opportunity to leave because my former co-leaders decided they wanted to try building something there themselves.

And I trusted them.

I still do.

So I took the chance to put down a burden that was never meant to be mine in the first place—a burden I picked up simply because no one else did.

That doesn't mean I didn't love the people there.

It doesn't mean I'm not proud of what we built.

And it certainly doesn't mean I don't grieve the incredible amount of work, time, and money I invested in that server.

Because I do.

Very much.

But the longer you stay on a train that's taking you in the wrong direction, the more expensive it becomes to turn back.

At the beginning, I was excited because co-creating something was exactly what I wanted to do, even if becoming R5 had never been my dream.

I wanted to build something meaningful.

Something fun.

Something great.

But after everyone left at the first real hardships, and because of circumstances outside my control, I couldn't replace the knowledge, the experience, or the support that disappeared with them.

The whole thing slowly turned into a job.

An unpaid job.

Eventually, I had to choose between my own mental health, my real-life goals, and a server that was, in the end, just a game.

I spent countless sleepless nights thinking about that decision.

I searched for solutions for a very long time.

But I couldn't find any.

So I think I made the right decision, even if my heart is still a little broken.

Now I am free.

Free to learn.

Free to grow.

Free to have fun again.

Because that's what a game is supposed to be.

I had already taken on far more responsibility than I ever should have.

Not everything is my responsibility.

And just because I chose a path a long time ago doesn't mean I have to keep choosing it forever.