Return to “WarCraft”

November 18, 2010 in Reviews

After a good five months in which my lack of purpose, funding and available time kept me away from World of Warcraft, I have finally renewed my subscription in order to enjoy the Cataclysm prequel events ahead of the expansion’s launch in December. It’s felt quite strange, attempting to engage with the game again after so long. World of Warcraft was my first MMO RPG game; thus it is the only game I’ve had to return to without the luxury of starting at the beginning.

Many patches have passed me by since I played ahead of the Ruby Sanctum, back in June. I expected a few changes as a result of this. The largest of these changes came in the switch from version 3 (Wrath of the Lich King) to version 4 (Cataclysm). Though announced well in advance, the changes this patch brought were sweeping and disruptive. My ‘main’ is a warlock, and she bore the brunt of the biggest changes. The entire warlock mechanic shifted, from gathering Soul Shards as enemies fell in order to power spells, to these reagents now powering upgrades to spells which now required no such soul-draining. The UI changed; my inventory shifted now it was no longer bogged down with bags of 28+ soul shards; Spellstones and Firestones, once applied to my weapons in order to boost spell damage, have become inert mementoes; most of my gear was rendered inappropriate, as outfits featuring spirit no longer provided useful statistics. This on top of the facts my UI had been changed, many character abilities were removed or altered, and my destruction specialisation points had been reset, all made for a hefty bout of housekeeping as I attempted to re-learn the game.

Talent points were reset in order to facilitate widespread change; the panel now comes with useful pop-up tips.

There are some unique challenges inherent in re-learning a character who, at level 80, is expected to be fairly confident in their role within the game. I’ve written about the social expectations within the so-called ‘endgame’ many times before, as peer pressure can mount upon even the most regular of players; this frankly becomes overwhelming when you attempt to engage with the game after a few months’ break. Whereas I would start a console game again from scratch rather than attempt to follow on halfway through a save file, MMO RPGs like World of Warcraft rely upon weeks and months of accumulated knowledge – and often upon the choices made with finely-tuned reflexes as well.

There is, of course, an element of muscle memory involved with these games. Though the rules had changed quite dramatically for warlocks, it didn’t take more than a few hours’ practise for my spell rotations and spacial awareness to kick back in. Trickier was the navigation of my UI, as it had literally taken a year for me to arrange each character’s spells and abilities in such a way that summons, silencers, healing spells and other types of shared ability could be found within roughly the same area on-screen. Now that the number of abilities has actually been reduced for many of these character classes, I find myself having to start again from scratch.

All this adjustment comes within an exciting time for World of Warcraft‘s visiting players. Though I arrived too late for a much-hyped assault upon the Echo Isles – and thus the formation of a home city for the troll race – I came at a time when cataclysmic events have begun to rock Azeroth. Blizzard has arranged similar ‘prequel events’ in the past, such as a largely player-run gathering at the Dark Portal prior to The Burning Crusade and a Scourge invasion upon each faction’s capital to announce Wrath of the Lich King.

Rumblings of the changes this year have been in place for quite some time, with mysterious earthquakes having long rocked the cities of Orgrimmar and Stormwind. Emissaries from both factions – including the disputed Horde warchief, Thrall – have departed Azeroth in order to research the threat, and currently stand at a cliffhanger in quest chains related to the event. City guards also have players working on undermining the persistent Twilight’s Hammer cult, and their efforts to summon elemental beings into each capital. Their efforts have succeeded this very week, as players who might have thought their work against Twilight’s Hammer done were confronted by thunderstorms and inferno.

Blizzard orchestrated their launch of Wrath of the Lich King with vast numbers of undead foes and ice dragons; razing these havens for players of all levels, when often the only threat they’d face would be an organised raid of 40 or more players of the opposing faction. No NPC enemies had been allowed inside these areas of player commerce and training before. Similarly for Cataclysm, the darkening of skies, the cries of desperate citizens and the eventual eruption of elemental portals triggers an invasion which fundamentally disrupts all activity within the city. Players who might have been minding their business in auction houses, guild vaults and smithies will find themselves alone and unable to work; instead they are recruited into war.

Panic strikes the Horde capital of Orgrimmar.

I’ve been deeply impressed with how war efforts have been arranged. As one would expect, it is largely a level 80 player’s game. Weaker elemental foes give way to elites who can only be realistically beaten by high-level players, and once players have beaten the attack back (with help from boss characters like Rexxar, Vol’Jin and Garrosh) they are allowed entrance to four quick boss battles. There is a role for lower-level characters though, as instead of being called to arms they are directed to build barricades and rescued citizens, trapped in elemental prisons. This rather frantic effort runs alongside pitched battles in which your character may find themselves targeted by an indomitable foe, only to be saved by a level 80 ally. The player community does not often come to each other’s aid in this way before, and so it is refreshing to see such change upon the social scene as well as the game world itself.

Achievements in Digital Media

August 9, 2010 in Theory

John “Kaseido” McKnight recently wrote about a proposed ‘achievement’ system for Second Life which, some believe, might help shift online world demographics from a niche, free-form crowd to the lucrative gamer market. So soon after The Internet Crashed had posted an interview with Gary Ballard, this idea had me musing on notions of genre and medium again. I hope to draw a divide where social achievements can and cannot enrich a digital experience, but by doing so I must first separate MMO games from their ‘offline’ predecessors.

A Trio of Media

“MMO’s [sic.] need to be thought of as a medium, not a genre of video games. You take an experiment like Second Life and put it up against a refined, Skinner-box profit machine like World of Warcraft and you’ll see two very different experiences. Both have elements of game, but such widely varying goals that they can’t be considered in the same genre at all. You have to view them as two examples of different genres within the medium of an online multiplayer experience.”

Gary Ballard, for The Internet Crashed

Ballard’s point is a potent one, upon which Kaseido seized too – that although MMOs and games share much in common, it is almost always impossible to win an MMO, and so they are ultimately for play. The only time an MMO defies this is in player vs. player combat, when strict deathmatch rulings and the enclosure of an arena ensure that all play is taken outside normal MMO flow. A single-player console game may instead be completed once its story is run or a series of puzzles is finished. Note that for the sake of clarity, I consider the PC to be a games console too, despite the fact they run most MMOs.

I consider online games to be a separate medium indeed. The balance of constraints and opportunities open to a community-based game’s design are too many to let us treat such work as we would a console game. I currently classify these media by their chief intent: social interaction, gaming within rules, and playing.

  • Console games, typically free of social input (save for multiplayer modes), may feature ‘game’ or ‘play’. Examples would include Half-Life 2 (game) and LittleBigPlanet (play);
  • Online worlds feature no overarching goals save whatever the user brings to their own spontaneous play;
  • MMOs or online games occupy a middle-ground, since they feature directed gameplay delivered in a freeform fashion – players are allowed to embrace or disregard quests and challenges at their own discretion, and may in fact ‘level up’ without any heed paid to these features. They are also encouraged to share this experience in a social environment.

It is these differences in function and reach which I think demand careful attention when suggesting new features like achievements. The system as we understand it is, as Kaseido says, a relatively new phenomenon, though ‘offline’ achievements have featured in console games for decades. Hosting these accomplishments in an online environment has allowed players to create ‘game passports’, detailing their exploits and granting them bragging rights.

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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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What’s In a Name?

March 30, 2010 in Uncategorized

Taking a somewhat more fanatical topic (as in “fandom”) for this article, I wonder about the motivation in people’s avatar name choices. I’m less concerned with naming conventions such as some of my guild share, and more about those fourth-wall-ignorant, descriptive names such as “Imaheals” or “Megadps”.

Most of these names make use of the game’s own slang, or the widely-accepted idioms of MMO culture. Names using the initials “DPS” will apply to a character professing their speciality in damage-dealing roles, for example. The theory appears to be that anyone scouting for a few extra members to make a party or raid group will spot someone named so and immediately recognise their potential. Though I believe the names are quite widespread amongst players of different abilities, a few characters named in this fashion can be seen in the ranks of successful achiever guilds, further forming my hypothesis that they’re picked almost as advertisements for the achiever-type player (Bartle).

One point of contention, and the catalyst for me writing today, is that such names also appear in PvP battlegrounds. Battlegrounds are usually formed randomly, from a pool players joining a multi-server queueing system. Many players will join battlegrounds quite casually alongside more mainstream quest and dungeon play, but their choice of name can lead to amusing consequences:

Picture a fierce battle, of 30 players pushing against the ranks of a roughly equal opposition. Heavyweight characters form the forward ranks on each side, stealth characters attempt to assassinate opposing healers from the rear, and a mass of damage-dealing players attempts to duck and dive around strategically advantageous points. Those concerned with dealing damage are attempting to target and destroy the enemy healers, as taking them out makes killing the others far easier. The problem they have is that a well-balanced group will try to bunch together, thereby shielding even quite obvious healers like the tree-form druids.

Suddenly the head of an enemy player comes into view from behind a ridge, and glaring text announces that the player is named “Imaheals”. There’s little doubt as to their purpose in the enemy ranks…

While I’m sure that this could make for an effective diversionary tactic, given that players will usually see a character’s name before they see any details about race or class (since it’s not always easy to spot a healer priest by their robes alone), more often than not it will mean immediate death for the player who named themselves for their play style. One can’t help but wonder if a player begins to regret their choice as the entire opposition spots the fact “Imaheals” is the one healing their comrades.

Further problems may emerge when a so-called hybrid class character (one capable of filling two or all three roles in a group) decides to switch their role. How does a character named “Tankdadank” even contemplate switching to a damage or healing role?

World of Warcraft is not alone in being a world which, while subtly discouraging such practices, counts in its census some arguably blunt and analytical names. The practice has, in fact, led to the creation of some solid avatar/corporate identities in worlds like Second Life, a world which now holds no fears about breaking a user’s immersion in their world. For a game in which not only the lore, player feedback and the very mechanics of play are affected by such name choices, the player’s choice may well give food for thought.

I always muse on such matters as scripted events call a herald for “the mighty Ganksmith”, or as a legendary sword is gifted upon a player named “Epicheals”. I simply cannot help it: the fourth wall has been broken, and now I see it#s not always for the most practical of reasons.