The Digital Trap: A Life Lost to the Screen

This is a record of an interview with Cheng Yanwei, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his tragic passing at the age of twenty-three. It serves as a stark warning to those currently lost in the virtual world. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on February 4, 2022.

Cheng Yanwei speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Cheng Yanwei. At this very moment, my physical body lies cold in the funeral home, and my parents' hearts are shattered beyond repair. I died suddenly one night. The hospital report cited heart failure, but how could someone so young suffer from such a condition? The doctors could not provide my parents with a clear or satisfying answer. They only told them that, unfortunately, there are now many young people who play online games to the point where their physical bodies simply cannot cope with the strain, leading to sudden, tragic death. It is a terrifying reality that so many are ignoring, a silent epidemic of the spirit.

A Descent into Darkness

I was originally suffering retribution in hell. The agony of the tortures there made it impossible for me to have a clear mind or a moment of peace. The first sin weighing upon my back was my lack of filial piety. I died while still so young, forcing my parents to endure the unbearable grief of a white-haired person sending off a black-haired person. When my spirit left my body, I was still completely lost in the virtual space of the internet, my mind tethered to the digital realm. In a single, jarring instant, that space shifted, and I plummeted into the suffocating darkness of the hells. I was filled with such overwhelming fear and confusion. I did not know why I was there; I did not even realise that I was already dead.

King Yama stood before me, his expression stern and unyielding. He showed me scenes of the human world—scenes of my parents weeping uncontrollably, their lives hollowed out by my absence. I had always been their pride and joy, the golden child of the family, yet in the end, I was the cause of their deepest, most enduring sorrow. My body was in the morgue, and their hearts were broken. I was only twenty-three years old. My parents were humble, hardworking people, and they had raised me to be quite intelligent. From the moment I started school, my grades were always at the top of the class. I brought home award after award, and my parents would proudly show them off to our neighbours and the people at the market. My mother would say loudly, 'Our A-Wei always gets first place!' The neighbours would reply, 'You are so lucky to have raised such a son.' Hearing these praises over and over, I began to believe that I was exactly who they said I was. Consequently, no matter what I wanted to do or buy, my parents would do their best to satisfy me, inadvertently feeding the ego that would eventually lead to my downfall.

The Lure of the Virtual Hero

My parents were very busy with work and did not have much time to accompany me, so when I was young, they bought me a game console. That console allowed me to spend entire days lost in games, constantly striving to break through level after level. In those games, I was the hero. I could defeat enemies and slay monsters with a mere click of a button. I gained a sense of achievement and satisfaction from those victories, and I forgot the loneliness of not having my parents by my side. When I started school, my classmates began talking about online games—games with more spectacular graphics and endless possibilities. I was incredibly curious and felt a burning desire to try them. Even though I knew a computer was not cheap, my intense craving led me to ask for one. I saw the struggle on my parents' faces, but they eventually agreed, wanting only the best for me.

After waiting a few months, my parents brought home a new computer. I was ecstatic. I began searching for the games my classmates had mentioned, looking for anything new and exciting. At first, it was just simple games, but soon I moved on to fighting and adventure games. I found them much more stimulating; they made me feel alive in a way the real world never did. As I cleared one level after another, I met people online, and we formed a team to kill enemies and conquer challenges. We called ourselves the 'Death Squad.' If we encountered an opponent, we would do whatever it took to force them to surrender. We would not stop until we won. During our 'training,' we were obsessed with winning or losing, pouring every ounce of our emotions into the screen, neglecting the real world entirely.

The Erosion of Reality

Unexpectedly, my appearance began to change. I became unkempt and unappealing. Because I stayed up all night playing, my spirit became scattered, and my eyes grew hollow and lifeless. School time became my time to catch up on sleep. I had no friends at school because no one wanted to be around someone like me, someone who smelled of neglect and radiated indifference. I felt lonely, but I pretended not to care. As soon as I got home, I would sit in front of the computer, instantly alert, ready to perform in the game. I would contact my online comrades, and we would fight to the death. When the screen flashed 'WIN,' I felt a surge of joy. I never stopped to question if that joy was real; I had stopped thinking about such things long ago. I was a prisoner of my own desires.

When I first started school, my grades were decent, but as I became addicted to the internet, my ranking dropped from the top of the class to the very bottom. Sometimes I was even the last. My mind was not in the classroom; it was entirely in that virtual space I loved so much. When my parents received my report card, they were shocked and even called the school to inquire about my situation. The teacher told them that I spent almost every class sleeping and could not be woken up. I had no interaction with classmates, and no one could manage me. The teachers had tried to talk to me several times, but my attitude was cold, and I refused to speak. I was already dead to the world long before my heart actually stopped.

A Wall Between Parent and Child

When my parents heard this from the teacher, they were devastated. How could their son have changed so much? Several times, they knocked on my door to talk and express their concern, but I was always in the middle of a fierce battle online and had no time for them. When they knocked, I would impatiently shout, 'I'm busy!' or 'I'm very busy!' Once, my mother forced her way into my room, which caused me to lose the battle. I was furious and roared at her, 'What are you doing?' My mother was frightened by my reaction. She asked, 'Are you okay lately?' I immediately snapped back, 'I'm fine, nothing is wrong, you can leave.' After saying that, I sat back down at the computer. I didn't answer a single word she said afterward. She could only pat my shoulder and tell me to keep going before walking out, her heart heavy with a grief she couldn't name.

From that moment on, I became even more stubborn than before. I found a sense of importance in the virtual space. Whenever I was online, I felt full of energy, leading my 'Death Squad' to slay enemies bravely. Each success brought me a fleeting sense of pleasure. After observing my situation and realising they could not control me, my parents sent me to a strict boarding school, hoping to change me. But this sudden change made me feel as if I had lost my anchor in life. I lost my friends and everything I was accustomed to. I became completely listless, unable to muster any energy. I was panicked, and I used sleep to mask my anxiety. I refused to follow any of the school's rules. I became a troublemaker, and within one semester, I was expelled. When my parents received the expulsion notice, they were heartbroken and had to bring me home. The moment I returned, my mood lifted instantly. I sat back in my familiar chair and entered the space I knew so well.

The Final Silence

The friends I had online had scattered after I left, which left me feeling a bit lost. I comforted myself, thinking, 'It's okay, at least I'm back in a familiar place, doing familiar things.' After suppressing myself for so long, I threw myself back into it completely. On the first day back, I played through the night without feeling tired. Once home, no matter how my parents called me, I wouldn't listen. My days and nights were reversed. I didn't eat properly, and I drank very little water. My room was filled with the stench of my own body. My parents tried to arrange help for me, but I rejected everything and refused to move. I was their only son; they had once been so proud of me, but now they were suffering because of me. I only realised this after I died. While I was addicted, I didn't care about anything happening in the outside world.

My parents knocked on my door every day to remind me to eat, drink, and sleep. I never stepped outside. I seemed to have merged with the computer, finding infinite expression in the virtual space. In truth, I had lost track of how long I spent in front of the screen; I couldn't tell if it was day or night. This went on for five years. One day, my mother noticed I hadn't come out for food. After waiting all day, she was deeply worried. She knocked, but no one answered. That evening, she pushed the door open and saw me foaming at the mouth, my head resting on the keyboard. My mother panicked and called an ambulance, but when I arrived at the emergency room, I was already pronounced dead. My mother cried so bitterly, but at that moment, my spirit didn't know anything. I was still playing games in that familiar space, only 'waking up' when my spirit was dragged to the hells. Looking back on that time, I didn't even know what I was doing. I saw that the eyes looking back at me weren't even my own. But it was too late. I had caused my parents such extreme pain, and I had to suffer the retribution.

A Warning to the Living

Being able to escape from that retribution is something I owe to the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre and Practitioner Su. The scriptures and Dharma taught by Practitioner Su helped me wake up and repent for not using my human body to its full potential. Because of the Causal Conditions of this interview, King Yama allowed me to stop my retribution temporarily to serve as a prison guard, with the instruction that I must tell my story to help those currently trapped in the same way. I have indeed seen many people in the hells who suffered the same fate as me, currently undergoing judgment or retribution. Especially those who create these games—some of them are still alive in the human world, but their spirits are already suffering in the darkest hells. The poison that the internet has become for modern people is something everyone must know. Do not become addicted, or you will be the one to suffer the consequences.

I thank King Yama for giving me the chance to atone for my past sins. I am now in the Western Land. I urge everyone: do not walk this path. Namo Amituofo."

Cheng Yanwei

Namo Amituofo.