Shallow Depths

Border House recently posted a piece about the insults players of Facebook games are subjected to.  I don't play games on Facebook myself (well, I clicked my cow a couple of times before forgetting about it, if that counts), but I appreciated the sentiment.  I don't like it when people are judgemental about the recreational choices of others. Or, when all Facebook gamers are lumped in with the ones who neglected to feed their children (clearly a bit more going on there than just FarmVille).

After people who play Facebook games, the most maligned gamers are probably World of Warcraft players.  Although "Go and play a real instrument!" must be up there somewhere, too.

WoW no longer does too much for me, and stopping playing was a catalyst for doing a whole lot of cool things.  I developed positive associations about leaving, and suddenly being able to write more, look after my house better, discover new forms of play and imagination, and so on.  But WoW wasn't stopping me from doing those things previously -- I was lacking in those areas before I started playing, too.  If anything the game just left me restless to do and be more things.

Anything that takes up a lot of time leaves a hole to fill afterwards, and I'd just spent a couple of years killing furbogs training up in focus, exploration, and how life can be more exciting.  Continuing those things in other ways was very natural.  I sort of want to say continuing those things in better ways, but it's not better in an objective way, just further along in a process for me.

So, I've tried not to let leaving WoW turn me into an insulting WoW-hater, laughing at all the lab rats still clicking the button for food pellets.  It's also worth acknowledging the process my WoW days were part of, and how much I needed that safer, more controllable form of human interaction at the time (as a supplement to other interactions, anyway).

An imaginary heckler in the background stands up and shouts that I'm just proving their point: WoW's a game for socially maladjusted losers like me.  They are missing the point, of course.  I have the same social issues with or without a game -- hell, I've had the same social issues for as long as I have memory, the only part that changes is my perception of myself.  And I could still have enjoyed the game without my eccentricities.  The heckler might want to consider their own inadequacies before having a go at mine.  I'm not the one who is broken.

If WoW is enriching your life, providing moments of fun, reducing stress, building more co-operation, or whatever it is you're looking for then good for you.

So... when my partner reactivated his account why did I tense up, get upset, and almost explode?  Why did I even make it my business?  Am I bullshitting about still thinking it's okay to play WoW?  And when did I become a nagging, worrying girlfriend?

Maybe I am bullshitting a little bit.  I speak a basic truth, but I'm leaving out a lot of the complexity.  WoW does have a darker side, though it isn't really black and white, either.  Sometimes it's less enriching, and more a place to hide.  I should know.

Sometimes hiding and escape are important -- taking some time out to recharge, build yourself up again, take yourself away from a problem.  But the longer you hide away the harder it can be to re-emerge, and live openly again.  Small problems can grow bigger -- monsters cast eerie shadows on life when you leave them to grow unchecked.

So, maybe I worry that someone I love might have a reason to hide, and what his secret motivations are.  WoW was once part of a difficult phase in his life, so returning to it triggers my fears about his current self-esteem and state-of-mind.  It's about meeting people, relaxing, and exploring a vast environment.  But it's also been about the pain of long-term unemployment, and similarly problematic things.

I want to help, and even more I want to understand (now, and in the past).  But if my path moves away from something, while someone else's path is circling back again, that doesn't have to mean they are going backwards.  Only they can tell me, really, and I just have to learn more trust.  Trusting that other people can make their own choices without getting horribly lost -- that seems like quite an ask.  All things are processes.

It's Cataclysm week -- the first real test of my trust-building and acceptance.  It's too early to say much about that, beyond fingers crossed.


Postscript:

I wrote this post earlier in the week, and since then there has been more discussion floating around, thanks to a new documentary on game addition.  I think using the same term for psychological compulsion and chemical dependency is problematic, but that doesn't mean problem gaming doesn't exist, of course it does and it's worth trying to understand better.

I have no experience of the extremes, where people go without food and sleep, or otherwise seriously neglect important elements of their life.  It's not something I'm qualified to say much about, but I do want to defend those individuals against being called losers, as Leigh Alexander does.  That's just being flippant and arrogant.

These are still real people we're talking about.  Having problems and vulnerabilities doesn't make someone a loser.  So tempting, perhaps, to look down on those who currently have more blatant issues to overcome and feel superior.  Easier than being supportive.  And certainly easier than admitting that those people aren't actually so different.  Anyone can end up in a bad place.

But I do agree it's no good sticking our fingers in our ears and being unwilling to talk about any possible harm games might cause.  There's a lot of sensationalist stuff out there, but that doesn't mean it's all rainbows, either.

I stopped playing World of Warcraft years ago, and always feel a bit strange when I hear about it now.  On a more emotional day I end up shaking my head in disbelief.  What do you mean they are killing off my chieftain?  And they are trying to make the game easier?  Just how stupid do they want their player base to be, anyway?

And then I remember something important.  So, story time then, in which I am partially an old tauren woman sitting by the campfire and talking about the past to anyone who will listen.

Back in my day I had to walk ten miles through the raid dungeon, and then run a damage simulation programme just to work out my gear upgrades.  In some ways, I wish I were joking about running statistical simulations -- it honestly got to the point where it was the only way to work out if I wanted any particular loot drop.

Other elements of my class were complicated too, and sometimes really not intuitive.  In one case it was possible to decrease damage by using a damage-buffing spell if you didn't understand how the game mechanics worked.  This was all fairly ridiculous.  But it's also a badge of honour, to have been one of those rare Enhancement Shaman who actually knew what she was doing in those days.

My own class/spec was the most extreme example of complexity in World of Warcraft I ever encountered, and I gather it has since become much simpler -- it needed to be.  I get the impression it wasn't really intended complexity, more the result of continually building on things.  Rather like how evolution creates complexity, now I come to think about it.

It got silly, but for Chakwaina sitting by the fire, that's just the way things work.  Honestly, I thrived on being part of a system where knowledge was such a powerful currency.  After spending most of my spare time on the game (or reading up on the game) I became an expert on a lot of things, and Chakwaina became someone worthy of fear.

I used to complain to myself about people who asked for help instead of using the abundant internet resources available.  I used to complain even more about people who did not read up on how to play their class well.  I didn't want a group I was part of to be dragged down by idiots.

Yeah, I never said this was a story about me being nice.  As Chakwaina I had overcome pain and adversity, and become powerful in many ways, but I still lacked wisdom.

Despite my mean streak, I did spend some time helping other people.  I had a guild to help run, and could answer just about any question put to me (and if I couldn't, I could find out quickly).  In my own small tribe, then, I did become a respected elder.

I raided on weekends for quite some time, with another, bigger guild.  Progression raiding happened through the week while I was at work, but I spent a lot of time running the lower tiered raids.  At first this was an honour -- to be allowed a raid spot at all was a big deal, especially as an outsider to their guild.  But over time it became more of a service to others, as different raid members cycled through, and we taught them the fights and helped them gear up for the bigger raids.

It was kind of nifty actually, to watch people come in fresh, benefit from the group's experience, and leave better equipped and more skilled players.  My own guild tried to provide a similar experience for players still leveling.

One day a new Enhancement Shaman joined our raid group.  The raid leader whispered at me that her damage wasn't up to scratch and could I help her out?  I certainly should have been able to help her, right?  I was an expert on Shaman ways.  Just from looking at her gear and choice of talents I had a lot to suggest to her.  Too much to get across in the middle of a raid, and afterwards time-zone differences were a problem, but we exchanged e-mail adresses and I began to put together some information for her.  She seemed eager to learn rather than getting defensive about advice, which helps a lot.

Putting together the relevant knowledge took several pages, but I was rather proud of my efforts.  I happily sent it off.  But in the end it didn't go as well as I had hoped.  I hadn't counted on what I assume was a form of intellectual disability.  I'd had no sense of that from our limited conversation beforehand, and I'd piled on far too much information too fast.  Some elements had been latched onto, many had been missed, and some were misinterpreted.  So much for my communication skills.

I tried to make up for this as much as I could, and keep things slower and simpler.  But in many ways I had already lost my chance to help.  Everything was now extra confusing.  I have a tendency to provide the options, weigh things up and leave people room for individual style and choices.  It is great if you can understand it, but it probably reads like gibberish to some.

So, one of my biggest regrets, as a Shaman and a Warcraft player, is that I let my tribes (and an individual) down thanks to my crappy assumptions.  And when I complain about changes to the game, that's me basking in my own arrogance again and forgetting what I could have learnt by now.

I'm a self-motivated learner.  I'm also highly visual and text-based person, so sometimes I struggle a bit with lectures or group discussion, but give me an essay or a decent instruction booklet and I'll be happy.  Probably part of the reason I still read game manuals.

WoW has been well set up for my kind.  It let me find my own way, and didn't treat me like an idiot.  But if you expected the game to hand you all the information you needed then, yes, you were out of luck.  Without thinking about it, I have been scoffing at all the people with different learning styles, and the people who, for whatever reason, were not capable of what I personally expected from a skilled player.

I have heard a lot recently about WoW being made more accessible for new players.  I regret complaining about this, because really it did need better tooltips and tutorials, even if I didn't need them for myself.

Chakwaina has always been a bit variable, as she deals with demons considerably worse than my own.  As an old woman she has become quite melancholy, and weighs up her choices in life.  We could have been a better leader, and a better friend in many cases.  We were the best fighter we could be, and the best knowledge base, but it doesn't count for as much any more.

If there's one thing that annoys me more than fishing mini-games, it's game mechanics based on real-time instead of game-time.

Having worked through at least some of my Monster Hunter Tri obsession, I returned to Nier this week. Of course, my carefully laid out plants had withered and died while I was away. There is no real need for this. Nothing else in game changes while it's turned off. No one dies because I'm not there to save them, and no one gets annoyed when I leave their errands incomplete for weeks or months. It doesn't really make sense for just one element of a simulation to keep going while the simulation is turned off. It's just a cheap trick to keep me playing, and I don't appreciate it.

I enjoy games, and I hope they can enrich life. But I don't want them to dictate to me how I should spend my time. As someone who often flits between a few games at a time, I don't understand why I should be punished for my preferred gaming behaviour.

Plants in Nier are, thankfully, a minor part of a larger whole. I'm giving up on farming for the moment and focusing on the game elements I do enjoy.

A friend of mine described far worse experiences with Animal Crossing, where events change with the system clock, and the game's inhabitants will get annoyed if you fail to switch on and let them visit at 4 pm next Tuesday, or etc. I know those kinds of games can be addictive, but that's just getting ridiculous. It feels like design decisions based on incorrect stereotypes. Something like (1) Gamers are all kids; (2) Kids have no responsibilities, so can spend all day playing Animal Crossing. Or maybe it's something about getting people so hooked they won't bother giving money to your competitors.

There is no way of escaping the passage of real-time in MMOs, thanks to their community of actual people. My days of weekly WoW raiding and the time preparing for those made juggling committments challenging. More casual play was certainly possible, but I most enjoyed keeping on top of the game as best I could, and helping run a guild. At the time, I was happy to make that choice, despite sacrifices in other areas of life. But it wasn't a decision made lightly, and it certainly isn't an option available to everyone. It's inexplicable to me why anyone would want to replicate that committment in games where it isn't required.

I've been feeling very enthusiastic about gaming recently. I just started this blog, there are some exciting releases on the horizon, and I've been having some fun experiences.

Then Steam had Final Fantasy XI on sale for $US9.99, and in a moment of morbid curiosity I decided to give it a spin for the 30-day trial. If I wanted to sap away some of my gaming enthusiasm this was a really good way to go about it.

After several hours of patch downloads, and an unnecessarily convoluted sign up procedure, I finally managed to create a character and set foot in the game world of Vana'diel.

The first obvious thing about FFXI is that the keyboard setup is non-standard. It took several minutes to work out how to move around, interact, and access the menu to change the damn keyboard setup (it's under the '-' key, followed by an arrow sideways to access another menu). Not a very welcoming beginning.

Each starting city has an NPC for giving out very simple beginner quests, but they are located nowhere near the starting area. I spent several hours exploring the city before I found them. Finally, I ventured out of the city in search of low-level monsters to fight. We trade blows for a while, one of us comes out on top, and so it continues.

I've only pushed myself through to about Level 6, which is not enough to say anything informed about the game, but it is enough to start me wondering why I am putting myself through this experience. I know MMOs were still developing at this point, and WoW has since worked out how to be more accessible to beginners, and provide constant reward feedback to keep people playing. But I still thought there would be slightly more here. Perhaps there is, if I were prepared to put in the time to get there.

There is a vague sense of developing yourself as a hero and adventurer, but I had no real concept of why my character would bother (let alone why I would want to be part of their journey). Maybe someone passionate about Final Fantasy can explain it to me, but I just haven't been inspired by the game series in general. And the MMO-version is probably far worse, with less in the way of pretty cut-scenes or story to fall back on.

The world feels vast, which is one of the strong points of MMOs, but in the end all that really means is that things are spread out and it takes a very long time to run anywhere.

Maybe I'm more easily bored these days, but this has got me thinking about what can make me endure a grind in gaming. I certainly have ground enemies often enough. I enjoyed Borderlands despite it not providing a lot of variety, and sometimes things just work out that way.

In World of Warcraft I put up with the grind aspect partly to have a place among a community, which I admittedly haven't sought out in FFXI. But I think the major difference in WoW was I had enough of an investment at the time to research the ins-and-outs of what I was doing. I knew exactly where to gather resources, how the economy on my server worked and what items were valuable, and how best to utilise my class abilities. I gained some enjoyment from being an expert on what I was doing.

It takes a while to gain that sort of knowledge of any particular MMO, and I won't be going through the learning curve in this case. I think it's unlikely I will ever go through that sort of experience again, in fact -- a new MMO would have to be something pretty special to tempt me back into that kind of gaming.

Other games that can make me grind are those where I am given something to collect. I'll happily search for rubber bands and garden gnomes in Bully, collect shiny bugs in Twilight Princess (though I stopped short of hunting down all the Poe Souls) or try to fully level up Folks in Folklore. Maybe I'm just a bit ODC in this context.

I will occasionally load up Final Fantasy XII, not because I find the story, characters, or gameplay particularly inspiring, but because I like filling out my bestiary with information about the creatures I encounter. I basically pretend I'm a travelling naturalist (if a rather violent one) rather than a hero or adventurer. I expect this is is a rather unusual way to play the game, but it's more in line with my personal interests. If any game ever has David Attenborough narrating I'll be all for it.

FFXI doesn't have a bestiary (as far as I know), so I'm yet to find a silver lining. About the one positive thing I can say is that you lose XP for dying -- I really wish more RPGs had harsher penalties for death.

Just some quick links today.

The guys from Game Taco Podcast were kind enough to give me a link on their blogroll. After two episodes I think they are really starting to click, and they have conducted some interesting interviews. I look forward to hearing their future discussions.

Coelacanth: Lessons from Doom is an interesting look at game design with less representational graphics, and how it may actually serve gameplay.

For any current World of Warcraft players, the Daedalus project is looking for survey participants. They are "trying to find out what our behaviors in WoW reveal about who we are in RL."

I don't play a lot of flash games, but I have been enjoying Closure. I am fascinated by games that play with the idea of perception tangibly altering reality. Another example of a game using those sorts of ideas is Echochrome.

Recently I went to a birthday party for my former Word of Warcraft guild leader. The party was interesting. I'd met him in person before, but not often. I felt old to be attending an 18th, but not to worry. There were a great many WoW-related presents, as you might expect. Singing Happy Birthday was also appended with "For the Horde!". I feel this improves it greatly. Gaming takes you to some unexpected places sometimes.

My name "Cha" was originally taken from my Warcraft character Cha'kwaina (Tauren Shaman). Meeting someone's mother who also wanted to call me Cha was unexpected, but appreciated. I never really considered the community I might encounter when I started gaming online, and in the end I found a kind of family. I moved away from WoW, but won't forget the connections I made.

On the way to the party we picked up a copy of MadWorld. The guy behind the counter asked if it was for me or my partner, and when I said both of us he seemed to consider finding a "girl who likes to kill" a good deal. I decided to take this as a compliment, despite being rather archaic. I forget that my habits are not completely normal until someone points it out to me.