The Digital Continuum: The people problem
As I've spent time with Age of Conan this last week, something has been preventing me from finding a nice groove to settle down into. Mostly, it's from people being jerks. Then again, that could be what I get for venturing into a PvP server. If you haven't already guessed, this week's The Digital Continuum strives to dig down deep into what makes a community tick, and why that can potentially matter more than any game feature on the back of the box.
In the hot glare of the summer sun I sat at my computer desk, staring at a familiar scene. Shimmering across my monitor was Hyboria's burning sun, bathing my already quite tanned character. I hadn't been back with the game for too long at this point -- this was earlier in the week. Then it happened, I received a guild invite. Normally this would be reason for celebration but that wasn't the case here.
I've never heard of the guild I'm being invited to join. In fact, I've never even spoken with the person inviting me, and even more strangely, I clicked the accept button. What can I say? The lesson wouldn't stick with us if curiosity only kind of stung the cat. I wanted this experience to be memorable for both me and you, the reader.
It would be hours later on that hot day when a friend would tell me his tale of rolling a newbie character and watching the opening intro, only to be instantly sent an invite by the same guild. He, like myself, accepted the invitation. After deciding that he didn't like his first class choice, he rolled a new character and experienced the same thing -- another invite the moment he entered the game world. He did this a third time and had the same results. These guys were tossing around guild invites like console fanatics hurl insults -- badly, and frequently.
Let's get back to that first invite earlier in the day, however. I've been through this before, so I knew step two. After clicking on the accept button, a flood of green tinted guild messages blast me with faux-warm welcomes before going completely silent again. Most times players are too busy with prior engagements to be bothered with anything beyond that, unless you find yourself an genuinely friendly guild. So, assuming the usual fanfare, I decided to look at the guild details.
At this point I opened the list, which stretched out before me like a great tomb full of long forgotten mysteries. The really surprising thing was that something like 80 people were online. Looking back to my expected "Hello!" and "Welcome!" messages revealed that, actually, no, nobody really had the time or interest in typing out a greeting. At the time I didn't find it bothersome, and it was only later when I realized everyone was really just that inconsiderate.
"Hey," I asked, "What's the best class for PvP?" Of course, knowing this answer always tends to be subjective, I expected at least one person to tell me as much. Oh, how I was so very wrong. "Barb." blurted several people, who were succinctly told they were in fact, wrong. "HoX!!!" yelled an opposing faction, intent on their choice. Looking at these names in the list, I could see that most -- if not all -- of them were backing their own class picks. The thought that this might not have been a good idea floated through my mind, only to be shoved away as the ensuing debate roared into a simple, if not slightly colorful conflagration.
A little while after that amusing experience, I moved on and left the guild. There's a possibility that the PvP server I'm on has a particularly lackluster community, and to that end I've recently created a character on a PvE server in the hopes that my experience has been different. It hasn't happened yet, but I continue my efforts nonetheless. I'd like to also point out that this has happened in other games as well. I had similar experiences in World of Warcraft and City of Heroes. There's a reason everyone knows what you mean when you say, "Oh man, Barrens chat." and that's only scratching the surface.
The Lesson
Before a player experiences ninety percent of an MMO, they run into a game's community, and many do so before they even pre-order or purchase the game. Community managers and their teams are of such vital importance to games like this, because they cultivate and craft the user experience before people even jump into character creation. For me, a game is only as fun as the people involved both on the development side and the play side.
My worry for Age of Conan is that because of its attributes -- mature, realistic graphics and a perceived "hardcore" nature -- along with the wobbly start of last year's launch, that much of the quality community members have long since left. Forums have proven to be a more mixed affair, although with the two free weeks currently ongoing I'll be giving things a little longer to develop. The reality of it is that all game developers -- and publishers -- benefit greatly from strong community people. AoC definitely isn't devoid of friendly players but the root of my concern is that unlike certain guilds, they're hard to find and befriend.
