Dear all,
Hello to one and all, and a very happy new year! I hope that 2008 treats you well.
I recently wrote an article for another site, and I thought that you might like it. See what you think - hopefully some of it is right!
With warmest wishes, and toodlepip,
An Old Friend
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Reminiscing
Though it never existed, Norrath holds a firm place in my heart. I entered into it on my birthday in 1999, just after I started a degree; I bid it a final farewell in 2002.
I think of the many hours spent in Norrath with great warmth, for they were unusual and excellent times; though I had to run from the “real world” in order to find the time to play, what waited for us all inside was something quite special. Friendships were made - and proper friendships at that. I believe several couples are still married today: one moved from England to marry in the USA; another moved from Canada to marry in Sweden.
Right now, I am getting ready for church. Back then, at this time, I would be going to bed after adventuring with friends all night. I have different priorities now; perhaps, I am just living up to the blessings and responsibilities of a different life, but back then, I was perhaps more free. That indulged young student is still with me, but no longer makes the rules by which I live. This article is dedicated to the happy memories of good friends and fine adventures, long may their goodwill and happiness remain in my heart.
Duties
Remembering all those adventures, the sheer number of us that took part now seems surprising. Two or three officers would lead the guild on large-scale raids, with different and complementary duties. My tasks were the organisation of players (usually between fifty and sixty-five) into small groups of six, ensuring that each group had the resources it needed: a group of monks for “pulling”, who would guide us through the zones; warriors and healers, balanced such that each team could contribute without becoming overburdened; even a team of wizards, protected by a druid. In the original version of the game, prior to its many expansions, the most powerful attack was the wizard’s “Ice Comet” spell; hence, the wizardly group was “Team Ice Comet”. That was my usual home, as a druid, keeping the poor wizards alive. We had no glamour, being the “artillery” group, but I think that made us enjoy the camaraderie of being the “outsiders”... Constantly juggling the changing needs of the groups was hard work, but satisfying, both for the needs of the raid, and for the personal needs of the players: lovers, families, those that didn’t get along together…
My old laboratory notebook is filled with page after page of groups. The characters have strange Tolkienesque names, but they read like a roster of dear friends.
Good Governance
Amusing also (and occasionally traumatic) was the division of items (“doing loot”) at the end of each encounter. We began with a few officers awarding items as they saw fit, which became harder with so many encounters and players over the months and years. Eventually, we gravitated towards a stable system, which was an optimal solution for us: my group lists would be given to an officer in charge of a database, who would record the attendance of players at raids, while also tracking previous item allocations to players. When an encounter was over, and we asked which players wanted each item, we could compare attendance percentages for the candidates, view their recent history of awards, and weigh it all with consideration to their contribution and commitment to the guild.
We experimented with a few other approaches, including points-scoring methods, such as the Fall of Heaven guild’s D.K.P. (“Dragon Kill Points”) system, but we always came back to our solution – in it, we could reward effort, and that required a subjective element missing from DKP. Points systems suffered from exploitation, in which a player could turn up at raids, play while really engaged in another activity, and finally accrue the same score as another player who had been working hard for several hours. If DKP had all the classical downfalls of social Communism, in which workers would work casually, knowing that they would still reap the same reward, our system was the “merit” system.
It was intended to be transparent in that reasons for our decisions could be queried by any guild member (usually someone that didn’t get awarded an item that they wanted). Thus, they had to be explainable, rational, and justifiable. Most of the time, it seemed to work as good government, and encouraged a healthy atmosphere of dedication and good nature, because those qualities would gain a player “merit” at loot time.
Amusingly, a few selfish players became quite good at investing effort and helping others, because these qualities were being quantifiably rewarded. It was in a player’s interests to be a good sport and a committed team-member. The transformation in a few key selfish individuals was cheering – even if it was probably motivated by personal gain, the results were very positive, and it made for a good atmosphere.
The Consequent Effect
The entry criteria to the guild were steep, requiring good players, with good reputations, who could commit to a minimum of three raids, of around four hours each, per week. Our guild was the most successful on the server (of which there were some 15 – 35 servers in due course), and always had the highest goals (and best items), which meant that many “non-casual” players wanted to join. Our requirement of excellent reputation was combined with an applicant playing with guild members in small groups in the “downtime” periods when raids were not taking place. They needed to show that they were good people, and good fun, because we collected feed-back from all guild members prior to deciding their admission. This had a highly beneficial knock-on effect, particularly later in the server’s life, when it became clear to prospective players that a good reputation was an essential aspect of their character’s potential success; it was a necessity for players to be fun, fair, and skilled, and again helped in some way to create a very pleasant general atmosphere on the server. Truly, it did seem like a transformation through “meritocracy”.
So what did it take to succeed? It was based on a kernel of fun, reasonably mature, fair folk with too much time on their hands. Success attracts success, and we worked hard to constantly refresh the guild’s membership as players retired. Eventually, as the game became sillier, entering its latter stages and being stretched far beyond its original design (and it is testament to its creative staff that it lasted as long as it did), it became markedly less fun, and that kernel of good, dedicated players retired. The guild kept going, but eventually slowed and ceased such committed raiding.
Then, “World of Warcraft” opened, and many of the good people moved into it, where I read that they are doing well, and it looks as if the old style of fun is still going strong. For a fair number of old players, the opportunity presented itself to avoid another game, having experienced the commitment required by Everquest. My own path has moved away, but I know the fun that “WoW” is giving, and a part of my heart rejoices in it, and looks on with a little longing.
Quiet Times
Many of my favourite times in Norrath were spent in single groups of six players, having light-hearted fun, and accumulating “exp” with which our characters gained levels and abilities. Plenty of time I spent alone, when the guild was off-line, in which I would level a toy character (“twink”) with a few powerful characters to watch over them. Often, I would work on “tradeskills”, in which one would ceaselessly and repetitively collect and manufacture items to have a character improve their manufacturing skills such that they could create more significant items.
Such “downtime” was relaxing, light, and somehow fulfilling. It was a time for getting to know people very well; the great aspect of on-line games in this regard is that you talk to people that you would have absolutely no chance of meeting in everyday life. People’s sweetness, humour, depth, integrity, and wisdom all come to the fore in such an environment, precisely because the relative anonymity allows players to, strangely enough, be themselves more easily.
I’m a career academic, buried in the middle of a bustling university – how otherwise would I meet software engineers from Minnesota, housewives from California, game-makers from Sweden, Internet cafés filled with fraternal college boys, accountants from London, shop workers from Denmark? There was even one whole American family, in its entirety, in our guild. I have never had the same breadth or depth of contact with such people before or since, and I consider myself fortunate to have learned from them, for they were all inadvertent teachers in some way.
Personality Goes a Long Way
The anonymity formed very close friendships, and even the anonymity faded as we learned each other’s lives. I think about those times and definitely long for some of them again; or, if not actually wanted them due to living a different life now, my heart takes great contentment in dwelling on their memory. The feeling of it all, the feeling of all that time in Norrath, is fresh in my mind once again, and it is satisfying.
Was I one of those virtuous people that I described? I think I wanted to be. As much as my immaturity allowed, there were successes. I remember all manner of failures of my personality, too. There are several people to whom I wish I could apologise for distant, quiet crimes. That said, each one that I recall, and I recall many such failures, I can
genuinely say has helped me to improve myself, improve my ability with others, improve the way I behave. People say that video games are destructive and harmful. What those people don’t see are the surprising advantages, the many gems hidden under the surface.
Am I a better person for having played? In some ways, in helping my personality to improve, in enjoying the company of so very many good people, then I can honestly say that I am.