‘Real’ ID

August 19, 2010 in Culture

Having let my World of Warcraft subscription lapse for a little while, it’s taken until now for me to experience Blizzard Entertainment’s Real ID system first-hand. I am not in the least bit amused by it.

Since money is tight, it’s taken my friend’s kind donation of a StarCraft II guest pass for me to try this strategy game sequel out; these 14-day, 7 hour trials are included in retail copies of the game. The installer is a hefty download, but once set up it allowed me entry to a thoroughly polished game.

"StarCraft II" 's profile screen and Real ID rollouts.

Real ID, Blizzard’s new cross-game social system, comes into play quite early and is integrated heavily into the game’s UI. I was asked to sign in with my established Battle.net credentials when the game launched, was invited to create my ‘character name’ (“Sinnyo”, naturally), and found myself signed in to the Real ID service. The tool appears in the bottom right of each screen, and works like most other IM messengers. You can view your contacts list, set away statuses, broadcast messages and create chat sessions with individuals and groups. These groups can also form multiplayer games, making it a powerful tool for co-operative skirmishes and competitions online.

Real ID also displays my ‘real’ name to the internet without my having a say in the matter.
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Coming Out: Serious Gaming

July 18, 2010 in Theory

I’ve not really dealt with serious games before, on this blog or elsewhere, but an idea has struck me and I hope you’ll indulge me as I share it. Many such games deal with political ideas through education or simulation. There are very few which deal with social issues, possibly because they are a complex matter. Some such issues do appear in more generalised games, however:

Half-Life 2 deals with repression, both in its cyberpunk storyline and a thoroughly disadvantageous few minutes of play at its start. I’m sure most people will remember the City 17 station ‘metro cop’ who knocks a can to Freeman’s feet. In the mocking tone of one holding the high ground, he orders Freeman to pick it up. The player has the option to throw it back in his face, but Freeman is unarmed and easily bludgeoned with a cattle prod for his insolence. This short encounter sets the tone for a whole game about overcoming dictatorial power.

Beyond Good & Evil has a more political angle, exposing the perils of state-controlled media in a fantastical setting. Protagonist and freelance photojournalist Jade falls foul of the military during a vicious alien attack and winds up with a rebel network, out to expose far more than the government is letting on. Who’s really behind the Domz attacks, and why are innocents being abducted from the streets?

Of course, this is no less than what film is capable of dealing with, and film has the power to highlight more personal issues. What if games were tackle ideas like betrayal, love and social injustice head-on?

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Shiny Syndrome: the Push to 80

February 4, 2010 in Uncategorized

I’ve recently witnessed quite a shocking but fascinating conflict between an emergent cultural practice and those of a world’s designers. I speak of Blizzard Entertainment’s World of Warcraft and not Linden Lab’s mis-handled “come to Second Life, but please don’t lead a second life” discussion (and I offer no apologies for slipping that in on a tangent – it’s been a hard rant to tame).

I observed the following between three players: two level 50-60 characters, clearly alts. (sadly named in a typical ‘noobish’ style with words like “pwn”) and an apparently new user in Orgrimmar. It’s edited for grammar’s sake:

“Ah, noobs these days. You don’t need items, you just need to get to level 80 A.S.A.P. Then you get items.”
“True.”
“I haven’t bought anything almost this whole time. Just grab stuff from dungeon drops and push to 80. Save as much gold as you can.”

By coincidence I was logged in as my blood elf priest at the time who, if you can forgive my brief distraction to background context, hovers around the level 70 mark so that my guild-mates and I can enjoy The Burning Crusade‘s dungeons. Thanks to the persuasive suggestion and outright pressure from our peers to reach level 80, I’d managed to skip large swathes of World of Warcraft‘s first expansion pack in a rush to reach the so-called ‘endgame’ in Wrath of the Lich King, despite having paid around £20 for the privilege. That struck me as a little insane, so my priest is kept there to heal a party whose very purpose is to explore what the pre-level 70 world of Outland has to offer. I do have some bias towards this practice as a result.

This aspect of the player culture seems to ride pretty hard against Blizzard’s designs. There’s a global delusion that says all the game’s most fulfilling content has been built into a chunk at level 80, despite the fact Blizzard have pushed this game past two other ‘endgames’ already – at level 60 in Azeroth, and 70 in Outland. A lot of the lore has been designed so that stories seeded while growing up will come to fruition in that game’s harder dungeons, and this is expressed in some hard-to-reach quest chains spanning tens of levels.

Most of what actually keeps players amused at the endgame are the challenge of heroic dungeons, a more active player versus player (PvP) scene an the tiered gear rewards which come from high-level raids. The sad fact is that unless a player retraces his or her steps and commits themselves to quests which offer relatively little monetary reward and inferior gear rewards, the story and player interaction is actually fairly sparse here. There’s also a bitterness against which I’ve done my fair share of ranting; push a character straight to 80 and it’s very likely you’ll be denied access to the heroic raiding parties you were hoping for precisely because you’re entirely devoid of play experience.

Gear is the only material reason for players skipping content. It’s a well-known fact that at level 69 (once only a level away from the endgame), a player can expect to find gear of a superior quality in Wrath of the Lich King‘s quest rewards than they will from persisting in Outland. Professions like jewelcrafting suffer most, going so far as to offer low-level recipes to Wrath of the Lich King arrivals which exceed even the hard-to-reach ‘epic’ gem cuts offered in the Burning Crusade expansion.

The problem is that both expansion packs have had to cater for a split audience. Those who bought Burning Crusade or Wrath of the Lich King on launch are likely to have spent a lot of time in the game already. Those were the players who had met the previous game’s challenges, sought out the best gear available and now expect to meet similar challenges in the new world. It’s unlikely that they will even use the gear offered for the new expansion’s opening quests.

Fast forward six months or more, and we have players whose characters have only just reached levels 58-60 or 68-70. Though they may still tackle the older game’s dungeons out of curiosity, it’s unlikely that they will work on the daily quests, faction rewards and dungeon farming that their predecessors did to get at their gear sets. It seems likely, then, that they will move on to the new content and find themselves battling enemies of a significantly tougher nature in relatively common gear – after all, such enemies have had to put a decent fight up against veterans, too. The solution to that is simple – freely offer gear only a few steps below the old game’s optimum in order to up the players’ survival rate.

All of which has somehow been lost upon the majority. Without wishing to sound too cynical, it is an affliction of the shiny. There are questions asked at 58 and 68 as to where a player’s character should spend their time:

“Do I plug away at these Plaguelands quests, tackle Stratholme and Scholomance.. or instead do I hop through the Dark Portal and get fantastic gear for comparatively little effort?”

For participants in a leisure activity like gaming, this is not a hard decision to make.

Personally I’m stuck for any solution other than blocking the expansion content to player characters below levels 60 or 70. By allowing players to accept quests in each of the expansions’ new continents at 58 and 68, Blizzard have allowed for a compromise in which we can skip straight to the more polished content; quests and dungeons made after the lessons of the previous game were learned. They could leave it no lower, for even players starting at 59 may struggle to overcome the new world’s obstacles. Leave it higher, however, and the older content need not have been so ruthlessly abandoned. Nor indeed would the player skills be lost for what are often the level 80 ‘noobs’.

A Rose Tyler By Any Other Name…

January 5, 2010 in Uncategorized

So the blogosphere is abuzz about Second Life changes once more. In a way I’m impressed – not since the land rental scheme was reformed did bloggers give SL much screen space, unless they were damning or defending it for its decline. It’s for a quite baffling new feature announcement, though – the option to create an avatar bearing one’s real name.

It’s quite a surprise, and one which by turns has me nodding approvingly, and wondering what Linden Lab have been huffing. For those who’ve never entered Linden Lab’s flagship online world, users are restricted by default to a drop-down list of surnames, and must choose a unique but personalised forename. My avatar, for example, is named Sinnyo Wirefly. There are a few other Wireflies in the world, but you’d never find a Thomson because that name’s not been added to the library. Names are even phased in and out once they reach capacity, as demonstrated by this nifty tracker tool. The reason forenames are unique is that the avatar’s full name forms their login. There can be no Sinnyo Wirefly but myself.

This has influenced Second Life culture pretty noticeably. Along with a few chance names like “John Haroldsen” or “Richu Rajesh”, there are many names which certainly don’t sound normal by ‘real life’ standards but would roll off the tongue to an SL resident, like Botgirl Questi or my own Sinnyo Wirefly. There are also “Honeybabe42 Toocool”s and “Superstar Gothly”s to contend with, but names like that will often make a pretty poor impression on the long-term SL user.

Names like this have been a useful means of discerning the type of user one might be speaking to. Someone with a quite normal-sounding name is likely either a businessperson, one who’s presenting themselves pretty much as they would on the street, or one who wishes to give that impression so as to lend their avatar some gravitas. Someone with a little more cartoony flair in their name is likely an SL exclusionist. Second Life is as far as their activities go, and that’s fine. Bump into someone with numbers and adjectives in their name, and you could expect them to be wearing so-called bling jewellery and very little clothing. I hate to play to a negative stereotype, but it’s broadly true.

What would choosing a real life name do, though? The option to use one would have very little effect on the culture at all. Unless somebody’s vigilant enough to keep track of the various surname choices that have come and gone since SL started, it’s likely only the user would be aware of their name’s true meaning. There’s a problem when their name conflicts with those users already present, though. If Linden Lab hopes to welcome a man named John Smith and offer him the use of his legal name, he has to contend with the inevitable John who’s already created his account with Linden Lab’s surname choice, as well as every other John Smith who hopes to use the platform. Without a doubt, this’ll mean a change to the login system, but it’s bound to play havoc with that most fundamental of systems too – Second Life‘s inventory system.

Being a world of user-generated content, every single object an avatar brings into the world is assigned permissions based on their avatar name. So long as the names are unique, so is ownership. Changing this so that logins and avatar identities are assigned some new form identifier is going to be a huge undertaking. It’s at that point I can’t help but ask, “for what?”

So we return to the shock factor. Mark Kingdon, Linden Lab’s CEO, has given the blogosphere something to talk about which doesn’t involve discussing the world’s downfall. But will it merely be words? Or is this now truly a Linden Lab falling over themselves to market to businesses?