Identity and why Viamedia's a good player

Some time ago I wrote a posting that argued “Viamedia is a bad player and I don’t want to be like him.” While the title was meant in jest, the discussion really did touch on some observations about how players play within an alternate reality like WoW, and how some players’ responses to the rulesets of the realities make them more or less fun to be around. Experientially, the post was a long time ago in our WoW lifetime, and over the last month or so, Via’s been needling me about that post – he’ll pull off a really nice piece of warrior-work, and then whisper me saying “tell me that wasn’t a nice jorb – who’s a good tank, huh?” We both recognize that things have changed in our approaches to the game.

From my reading this summer (Bartle, Castronova, Taylor and Dibbel) I’ve come to see that MMO’s, and games in general, are less “other”, but rather are “representative”, which is why the moniker “alternate realities” makes sense – when we enter into a game of chess, or a run into Dire Maul, we take our selves into the game. And, though the gamespace we enter may have different structures on the surface, (knights move two forward, one laterally, or only priests can dispel disease) in the end, I think those rules generally serve to temper our own tendencies, not replace them.

Perhaps it’s put better this way – alternative realities are more significantly impacted by the social expectations of the participants than by the ruleset of the specific reality, but ignoring the ruleset will limit the immersion that a player can achieve.

There are several examples that lead me to think this. First is Ken, who’s playing Turbulence up to 60. As a mage, Turbulence is the proverbial “glass cannon” – wildly lethal, DPS to die for, and incredible mana pool, and no lasting power. If you’re not watching the mages pretty carefully as a healer, you’ll lose them.

Ken’s a fast player – not necessarily impatient, but he likes the challenge of killing quickly and moving on. He’s had experiences in raids where the push is always to keep moving, so he’s trying to impart that to us as we play together. Most of the time, that’s not a problem, but occasionally it can backfire. In those situations, he and I joke about the “Mage tank” – thinking that he can overlook his class limitations and take on the world by himself. As a practice, it’s something he can recover from when the mobs are lower, but not so much when they’re higher. Right now, however, Ken’s a generalist mage – he’s still taking the middle path, so to speak.

James is the other example. As a player, as a participant in the virtual world, James has come to really understand what the warrior class is, to the depth that he’s been able to make decisions about which subset of the warrior roles he enjoys the most. I’ve watched him experiment with the protection spec and the fury spec, and he’s become clear in his choice of the fury spec. Making this choice opens some doors for Viamedia and closes others – he’ll never be the main tank in Molten Core, for example – his hold on aggro, improved though it is, is still too light – but he’ll always be able to solo safely.

I’ve watched both Ken and James push against the ruleset. I don’t think it’s quixotic or futile pushing – rather, it’s learning and accommodating the virtual world with their own personal decisionmaking. I happen to think that James has become a very good warrior, and in the five man instances, I’d rather run with him than almost anyone. He may still have a greater tolerance for losing party members than I do, but now I’d argue that that’s a personality choice, not a reflection of the ruleset.

Ken, I think, is still in contention with the ruleset. The march to 60, long as it is, I now see as analogous to the first several years of a seven year apprenticeship. The magetank phenomenon, I suspect, is a bit chrysalis-like – you emerge from it at some point after 60, and at that point, the mage decides whether they’re an initiator of action (a style more attuned to soloing), or a concluder of action (more supportive of the raid, I’d argue).

In both cases, there’s not a correct path, just a personal path, and that’s where the virtual world becomes representative for me, not “other”. We can, I suppose, choose intentionally to play against ourselves – James could have been a healer, I suppose, for the challenge of it, or I could try to level a protection-specced warrior – but even if we do that, the game we’re playing is inflected by what we bring in. To be sure, if we’re being reflective about it, the experience is a two-way street – I’m changed by Twinkleheal, just as I change Twinkleheal – but even at my most immersed, I’m never not simultaneously me as well. What’s fascinating to watch, I guess, is where the boundaries are, and how they shift.