If you were looking for me in the mid-1990s, your best bet was to follow the incessant clicking into the darkened depths of the computer room at my parents’ house. Here you would invariably find me staring intently at endless lines of red and green text, occasionally pecking nervously at the keyboard, leaning back and surveying what I’d typed, then generally deleting it and going back to pondering.
Though the feeling is hardly alien to most people (after all, who hasn’t felt similar trepidation when composing an important email?), in this case these weren’t mere lines of text I was puzzling over – far from it. No, the words I was typing represented my actions upon the grandest of stages – namely the virtual realms of online RPGs. Whether I was tossing forth the initial verbal jousts preceding a duel, or whispering the sweetest of nothings in the ear of an unsavoury bar wench, each interaction represented an opportunity to ascend to glory and live forever in virtual infamy (or at the very least level up so that perhaps everyone I met couldn’t crush me in the blink of an eye). In the wonderful world of online RPGs, these words held the key to my future success in a world filled with thieves, tyrants, and untold riches.
Such was the strange allure of second-generation online RPGs such as Legend of the Red Dragon (LORD) and Usurper during the days when Bulletin Board Systems (BBS) ruled the land. Representing some of the first “door” games (games which allowed a given BBS node to pass information to another system in order to allow for multi-user gameplay), games such as LORD allowed users to send messages to one another, chat whilst resting at the Inn, or throw down the proverbial gauntlet – all within the confines of a virtual world with its own unique language, customs and cast of characters.
Learning the social mores that governed interactions within these virtual worlds was invariably an adventure, particularly for a socially inept eighth grader. It was here that I began to learn the subtleties of online interaction, committing countless faux pas along the way (some intentional and for my own amusement, others not so much so) and finding dozens of ways to get myself slapped or beheaded (sometimes both). Though gameplay within these door games could be learned quite quickly, learning the code of ethics governing these online interactions proved infinitely more challenging. After all, for every individual willing to pass along their knowledge and help me learn the ropes, there were two more who wanted to dice me into pieces and sell my meagre cloth armour for ale money.
Though I stopped playing online RPGs a few years prior to the popularization of MMORPGs like Ultima Online and Everquest, I never lost interest in the social aspects of such games – the manner in which codes of ethics are constructed, how people interact within the parameters of these constructs, and most interestingly how these unwritten rules are enforced within the confines of gameplay. I distinctly recall experiencing a number of social watershed moments during my earlier days playing online RPGs, and upon getting back into gaming for the second time I wanted to document them such that others could learn from my failings as a virtual adventurer.
As such, over the next several months I’ll be playing an assortment of MMORPGs, and documenting my experiences relearning the social norms governing play in games like World of Warcraft, Everquest, Star Wars: The Old Republic, and Rift. Equal parts game review, comparative study and personal narrative, this blog will cover such life-affirming events as winning one’s first duel, meeting one’s first virtual mate, and the true “coming of age” moment of any new MMORPG player: joining one’s first guild. While success is anything but certain and “WTF” moments are virtually guaranteed, what I can promise is a unique perspective on MMORPGs, and perhaps even some insights into the nature of online interaction along the way.
And with that I invite you all to guild up, get geared, and get ready for Swindlor’s Return!
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