Surreal

On December 13th, 1995, I was working on The Isles. Surreal's father called me on the telephone during a period of heavy coding. For a time I had known that Chris was in bad shape. His father told me that, the night before, they had lost their son. He had spent the previous year in hospitals and under scrutiny of doctors, while his life changed forever.

I had met Chris on a bulletin board called Chat Thing, in the early 90s. I was 13. Chris helped me learn programming. We worked together on projects and tried to sell shareware through various venues by the time I had entered high school. Chris was a few years older, and ran a bulletin board system. He encouraged me to contribute to the local BBS community and together we ran his board, Infinity BBS. Together, we wrote Bulletin Board utilities for Renegade and Telegard BBS.

Eventually, our exploration lead us to the internet in 1992. First, we reincarnated the "Chat Thing" days with IRC, but MUDs were soon to follow. Our fascination with multi-player games became the focus of our summers for most of high school. From 1992 until 1995 I was heavily into the MUDding community, coding, contributing and playing. I was trying to keep my project, The Isles, alive.

His disinterest in the project in 1994, when he was leaving for Penn State, was a change in our friendship. He was off to college, and I was still in high school. He opened up socially. When he returned in November, he was excited, eagerly thinking about a major in computer engineering. But shortly after his return for Spring semester, he began getting heavy migraines. I remember his concerns over a unix "talk" session about headaches. He thought it was pot, but that was the last I heard from him for three months. I didn't think anything of it. I didn't realize that soon after, he had returned home after a seizure.

Soon, the world changed for him. I kept in contact as much as I felt appropriate. His life was still computerized until it became difficult for him to read and type. He was, in some ways, ashamed of what had happened, and very spiritual. It was a year of traveling for him. From here, to Texas in September, to hospitals and doctors all trying to help. Many other journeys were also made. His improvements were followed by relapses. The operations and treatments proved insufficient and, on December 13th, 1995, he died.

A grim announcement:

On this day, December 13, 1995, Chris "Surreality" Woodward passed from the world of the living and has forever left this as his mortal legacy. Though his life was short, he has instilled in me the inspiration to make something from nothing. He was a good friend, and a true one, despite my own shortcomings. I hereby dedicate the operation of this software to him, and to his memory. For he helped me to see what I could not and to polish that which was left hewn rough, and now I give to him this bit of my life's work, though it be small exchange for the gifts he gave. A year to the day he seemed ago so strong and vital, but his short life has now forever passed and he will be watching o'er those who he touched, though lightly, but with great presense.
Ho Chris! Let not us forget thee!

The Isles is indebted to him. He is as important to this project as I am -- a founder and like a brother. His life's legacy a digital realm, in the earliest days of VR, before the millenium mark.