A child walked sacred ground, gazing in wonder, intrigued at the endless passages laid before him, each containing its own path to greatness. This was the beginning of a new life, the start of a new world with limitless possibilities. No world is without peril though, and children allowed free reign often, tragically are led astray. A scene of battle and heroism flashed along the walls, enticing, beautiful, all other pathways dimmed, the choice was made. One step, two, time ceased to exist as words flashed in the sky above the scene laid out before the child, Credit Card Required! Wtf is this? The words flashed again like a warning, bright and shiny, who can resist bright and shiny?
Many fans the of the MMO genre don’t seem to know what they’re getting into with that first step, but after its taken life tends to change, sometimes dramatically. The MMO game is much like other games, they feed you story, give you a world but the world doesn’t end, the character also happens to be you, or whatever persona you choose. In a normal game setting, you struggle against the world, eventually beat it, and are free to go about life, sometimes with a feeling of achievement, the struggles you faced now a fond memory. What if that world never ended, it just got larger, and more complex the deeper you sink?
Oh, don’t fear, it wont kill you, this gingerbread house is designed to keep its occupants entertained until they’re too large to fit back through the doors. It’s really not a clever trap design, its been around forever, really it has, this unfortunately does not make it any less effective. Most gamers don’t seem to realize they are stuck until they try to leave. Escape though for many is not an option. The more this type of game is played the more there is to lose, even if it happens to be virtual possessions. Players feel a connection to their character, the items acquired and most of all with the prisoners they share the world with. Leaving would not only mean abandoning the alternate persona countless hours have been invested into, but the relationships cultivated with other people. Is there a reason to struggle?
The real world is almost a memory, blue sky’s and fresh air a thing of myth. The child, no longer looks at the world from afar, but walks it, as night turns to day for hours untold he fights. Not for fame, or fortune, but because he must. What alternative is there? This is the world he dwells in, not fighting is unimaginable. He is but a slave to the drums of war, the glint and joy once apparent in the eyes of one so youthful, replaced by haggard dark half moons under a glossy gaze. This is life, what choice is there but to carry on?
