Taken shortly before his ill-fated encounter with the wind turbine, this photo shows Gnuth's feeble grasp of reality.

NETHERCOTT ISLAND, ME–Tatum Gnuth (18) grew up on a remote island off the rugged Maine coast,  thinking he was the center of the universe. He was an only child, schooled via radio and the Internet, and the mainland was little more than a shadow on the horizon. But it wasn’t the isolation that gave Tatum a skewed perspective of the world; according to psychologist Dr. Avery Attkin, it was the boy’s penchant for playing video games.

“He simply was not prepared to deal with the real world,” noted Attkin.

When Tatum left his home to attend the University of Maine, the culture shock was apparent to everyone. Fellow students reported that the freshman was jumpy, overly chatty and prone to violence.

“He literally jumped on everything, like he was trying to squish stuff,” recalled Gnuth’s roomate, Alex Mende. “He’d hit everything, too, like trees and buildings, and he seemed disappointed that nothing ever happened afterward. And sometimes I heard him jabbering in his sleep, saying, ‘Talk to everyone. Talk to everyone.’ He was a spooky kid.”

University police were called to investigate Gnuth’s odd behavior several times, including one night when the student was discovered splashing around in the campus fountain in search of what he called “hidden objects.” Another incident involving Gnuth breaking into a sorority house to slay a dragon led to criminal trespass charges being filed.

“He felt that life was a game,” explained Attkin, who began counseling Gnuth after the sorority incident. “All he knew was the challenge of puzzles, goal-oriented adventures and hidden dangers. The innocence and mundane occurrences of reality didn’t register with Tatum. For instance, he thought I was a fifth level Blue Mage. Clearly, he was delusional in a Quixotic sense.”

Those delusions seemed to escalate over Tatum’s freshman year. Co-ed Delicia Froeling became the center of Gnuth’s growing obsession as he attempted to make sense of the world by turning it into a game.

“He was in my calculus class,” explained Ms. Froeling, “and one day I asked him if I could borrow a pen. From that day on he was everywhere, popping up from behind bushes to offer me stuff like a ham sandwich or a spoon, holding doors open for me wherever I went, pushing people off the path in front of me when I was late for a class. I guess he was just trying to be sweet, but it was kind of creepy.”

It all came to a head during the holiday break. Ms. Froeling had gone home to her family and Gnuth, alone on campus, began to spin out of control.

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