Back in my mudding days (ok, 2 years ago), a few friends of mine and i were
gods, or had higher level characters, or both. A few people saw us playing,
got interested, and joined us. Some we invited, some we didn't. One idiot
decided it'd be cool to join, and watched a friend of mine sign on, thus
figured out how to get in. We let him, after all, it was an open mud and
all...
btw, if you don't know what a mud is, go to circlemud.org.
back to the story... well, he was a nuisance... he died a lot, so we rescued
him/his stuff... then he started to cheat, and we repremanded him a few times.
After about 2 months of putting up with his cheating (we were fucking
LENIENT), he watches my password (not hard, it was "enter"). Mind you, i'm a
god. i can go anywhere, kill anything, make anything... if he knew how to
wield a god, he'da been able to do a LOT more than he did... anyway, he went
around to all the hardest monsters, killed them, and put on the equipment.
then i tried to log on, and couldn't, because he was already on. so i got on
with a mortal, to see what was up. he sees me, and changes my god's password.
lucky me, i know how to snoop passwords too. so i use his password, and change
it back to an old favorite of mine that nobody knows... (22 characters and
bitchy)
i email the implementors (the people that own the server, thus the game, and
make all decisions), and tell them what happened. they post on the god's
bulletin board that the guy is a "god target". see him, hill him, sack his
shit.
So i do this. every time you die, you lose experience. i killed him until he
had zero experience... he was 2 levels from the top... that's about 3 months
of good, solid play.
he begs and pleads, and begs, and pleads to get his stuff back... he acts like
he worked really hard for it... of course i don't give it to him.
two days later, he comes into one of my classes, and says "lets go out onto
Alder" (alder street is where lotsa people hang out). i look down, and he's
got a gun in his pocket pointing at me. This is not an overactive imagination
seeing a finger as a gun... that was a gun. i grew up in the ghetto, i know a
gun when i see one. being the cocky bastard i am, i call his bluff, turn
around, and walk to my seat and sit down... fortunately, i gambled right.

you think people spending money on these games is taking it too far? nay, i
hardly think so... if you are wondering, yes, this IS a true story... if this
sounds like a story that'd hit the news, it wouldn't, because the only people
that i told for 6 months were a friend of mine in the class (about an hour
later), and my girlfriend (2 weeks later)... i'm a paranoid bastard, but i'm
alive.

whole thread article is from can be checked from:
http://slashdot.org/articles/00/04/13/1931248_F.shtml