UCD Bum..again.

stripedpyjamas wrote: »

"A committed student, Benjamin scored very highly in his Leaving Cert, and came to UCD to study Economics and Finance. A bright and intelligent young man, he was well-groomed and generally maintained a sharp and presentable appearance. He was unsuccessful in his attempts to become class rep, but nonetheless endevoured to strengthen the bonds between his classmates, by taking a prominent role in the organization of class parties and trips. Well-liked by his peers, he was widely respected for his ability to juggle the stress of an active social life, outstanding academic record and a spot on the UCD U-21 Gaelic team; a quiet, yet popular, gent.
However, according to college lore, one blustery evening in early December, Ben was entrenched in UCD Library, busily studying for a tough taxation exam less than a fortnight away. Mentally exhausted after a binge of note-taking, he wandered down to the SU shop below the library, eager for a snack and light beverage. While consuming his Capri-Sun and Snickers, a strangely-hypnotic electronic sound drenched his ear-drums in temptation. Intrigued, he turned towards the brightly coloured machine from whence this noise was flowing. 'Pocket Money' it read; surrounding its title, an array of snooker parafonalia. '1 CREDIT - €1' it read. Never one to be sucked in by a fad, Ben dismissed it as folly. But he could not turn away. Its bright lights and unassuming manner transfixed him. 'Why not?', he thought. He rummaged through his jeans pockets, and his hand emerged clutching a €1 coin. He placed it into coin slot and began playing. It was the beginning of the end for poor Benjamin.
The premise of Pocket Money is quite simple. The player takes on the role of a snooker player. He is presented with a gold dial to choose his direction, and a 'shoot' button, to be pressed at precisely the moment at which the on-screen power dial has reached the required level. The player is also presented with a handful of blue balls on the table; the aim is to pot as many of these as possible. The more difficult it is to pot, the more money the shot is worth. One must amass as much money as possible in a minute and a half. Success grants access to level two, where you carry over your previous pot and are offered the oppurtunity to increase it. In addition, one must avoid hitting or potting the dreaded 'skull ball' (doing so empties your kitty or 'purse), and try to pot the covetted yellow 'double' ball (which, as one might expect, doubles your purse). Once your time runs out, you are moved on to the bonus round, where the aim is to land the white ball on de-marcated areas on a snooker table, each one carrying different rewards from €1 to €5, and one area rewards the player with the value of the purse they have hitherto amassed.
One game and Ben was hooked. He would repeatedly insert euro after euro after euro into the machine; occasionally an audience gathered, but in general he lost his money in solitude. Friends began to notice a marked deterioration in Benjamin, from his grades to his social life. 6 months passed and his addiction grew steadily worse. The legend goes that the SU even tried to have the machine removed, but couldn't, due to legal constraints. Ben's parents would frequently go up to 3 days without seeing him; Ben had an arrangement with the janitor that he could stay in the library basement overnight, playing the game. He would return home sporadically, merely to bath and eat, and sometimes change his clothes. He financed the operation through occasional wins and, more importantly, a substantial inheritance from a deceased great aunt. Within 3 years Benjamin was no longer a student; he couldn't remember the faces of his family or friends (who had long since graduated), recognising instead the faces of library regulars, who came and went regularly, but almost always passed a disgusted look or a whispered comment regarding his increasingly dishevelled appearance.
As the situation worsened, he realised he was on his own. He now claims squatters rights in the college, who have tried and failed repeatedly to remove him. It is believed that the authorities have accepteed that he is there for good, and so they leave him to wander the campus, wondering what could have been, his mind warped by the twisted world of Pocket Money. Despite his withered appearance, he is only 28 years of age; his wrinkled brow and greying hair possess a wisdom far beyond his tender years. If you're lucky, you may see him cast a sorrowful glance in the direction of the machine, and the music and sound effects will fill his senses, and he will once more think back on his wasted youth. Spare a thought for old Ben, and use this tale as a lesson in self-control and the importance of moderation in all its forms."