We need to talk about Jelly.

She has not logged in.

It has been long enough that we have stopped waiting for her to log in to World of Warcraft. The friend we knew - the one who joined voice chat, who laughed at our wipes, who used to laugh when we observed, again and again, that the bad guys would have a much better chance if they all attacked at once instead of politely waiting their turn - has gone quiet. Read receipts. No reply. A status that has read offline for longer than it has read online.

We told ourselves she was busy. We told ourselves she would be back by Tuesday. We were wrong about Tuesday. We have been wrong about every Tuesday since.

When we asked where she had been, Tyneko answered for her. "Dunno," he said. "Doing stuff." He could not, or would not, elaborate. The stuff, we have come to learn, takes many forms. The gym. The dojo, where she practices Brazilian jiu-jitsu. The kitchen, where celery must be chopped before it can be eaten - a ritual that has, more than once, outlasted the queue itself. We wait anyway. We have always waited. It is, by now, what we do. A one-way flight to Thailand, where she has been planning, for some time, to meet her soulmate, a celebrity she has named only as Ling Ling. A life lived in places where there is no /played to measure it.

Tyneko was no help. Tyneko is never any help. To every message she sends him, no matter the subject, his reply is the same single syllable: "o." Not "o, please come back." Not "o, we miss you." Just "o." His full testimony to the chronically online council ran longer: "o," and then, after a pause, "poop." He has since denied this. The record stands.

And so, with heavy hearts, we have to say what no one wanted to say:

• Know the warning signs
• "I'll be on in 30 minutes." (Two hours later, the celery was chopped. She still had to shower.)
• A reliable preference for the gym, the dojo, or Brazilian jiu-jitsu over the queue.
• Hobbies that involve sunlight.
• A pending move to Thailand to meet a celebrity named Ling Ling.
• Tyneko, speaking on her behalf, in fewer than three syllables.
• A life suspiciously well-adjusted.

If you love Jelly, do not let her drift. Do not accept "doing stuff" as an answer. Do not let Tyneko be her only ambassador. Do not let the seat in voice chat go cold.

There is help. There is a Discord. There is a chair saved for her in voice chat, and a guild that has not removed her name from the roster. They are patient, and they are waiting, and they miss her very much.

In loving memory of the Jelly who used to log in. last seen ██████████ Survived by her guild, her unanswered DMs, and a chair in voice chat.