I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret: I’m an addict.
I am sure the word addict conjures up all sorts of squalid visuals of me with track marks on my arm, spending my free time vacuuming up all the dust and cat hair in my Manhattan apartment with my nose in search of a few lost granules of utopia. In this, I am sorry to disappoint, but I am an addict of an entirely different species. My addiction has its roots back in the days of Atari and stand-up arcade games where I spent a small fortune pumping quarters into a machine for the mere thrill of getting my initials on the scoreboard of Space Invaders. When my brother was young his first word was a phrase, which was something like “want supanintendaâ€. Before long, we had our very own machine and our family room became a den for late night matches and the slaying of a wide range of evil-doing foe.
In college I digressed. I spent my free time getting high and swinging from bright pink uvulas to avoid the peril of hungry crocs that were waiting down below. At this point I was basically an addict waiting to happen. I was a woodland sprite skipping through the woods minding my own business, not at all aware that my downfall lurked in the form of a nice boy and a healthy predisposition towards game addiction.
Four years ago I met my demise. When my new boyfriend mentioned to me that he was quitting a game he called EQ in order to spend more time with yours truly, I stifled a yawn. When he told me that the deletion of his 50th level character, Igbot, had prompted some tearful posts from absolute strangers and a long-winded eulogy, I was sure the relationship would be short–lived. What could I possibly have in common with such a geek? Two months later when I received my very own copy of Everquest and an offer to teach me how to play I realized this man was no fool. He realized early on that a girl can get between a man and his gaming and he set out to nip the problem in the bud.
My addiction started off slowly as addictions are wanton to do. First, there was the timid foray into weekend gaming and then the protestations that I could stop at anytime. Finally before I knew it, I was in over my head staring dimly at the wavering image of my once-productive life at the surface. I played at night until I could barely keep my eyes open. I played in the morning until I absolutely HAD to go to work. On weekends I holed myself up, disconnected the phone and didn’t leave the apartment for two days.
I realized early on that my addiction to the game Everquest was not a topic of conversation to be had with anyone other than those as equally addicted. In the beginning, I persisted doggedly with trying to get outsiders to see just how compelling it is. I would start off by explaining the social aspect of the game – how you are playing with thousands of people from all over the world at any time, how you formed friendships, unwritten codes of behavior and new methods of communication in game. I would then extol the virtues of its complexity. How the monsters had a thing called faction, which determined their level of love or hate for any one PC (player-character) and how the game kept track of your personal faction. Finally, I would discuss the topic that I was sure would win any mortal over…loot.
A girlfriend once asked me why I liked the game to which I responded “Well, you kill these monsters and then you loot their dead bodies and you get stuff. It’s exciting.†“What kind of stuff? “ she asked (she looked excited about the possibility of getting stuff too). “Well,†I said, “it depends. Sometimes you just get money. Sometimes it’s like just copper which sucks. But other times you get clothing that you can wear or items or random things like trolls heads or faerie wings.†She looked vaguely disgusted. “Well then what?†she asked. “Well then you sell them and make more money and buy more things to wear or use or eat etc.†Like, duh! She perked up. “I see, so basically the game is all about shopping!†Um…yeah, basically.
But it was about more than shopping for me. I had this close-net community of friends who played every waking moment they were not at work. And when we were not playing we were TALKING about playing. We would spend countless hours trying to think up what we called ‘sploits’ which are actions that a gamer takes that result in something that happens for his or her own benefit, but which the game designer did not mean to happen. Usually these sploits indirectly involve shopping. Or leveling your character, which results in more shopping. It is an endless dance between gamer and game designer and it keeps things interesting.
We also spent time discussing those poor, unfortunate fools who were swallowed up by their addiction (we would never be so foolish). For example, there was the guy who lost his job, his house and his wife because he refused to do anything else but play EQ. Then there was the dude who said that he was quitting the game for good due to an altercation with his wife that landed him in jail. It seems she was sick to death of him ignoring her and so she unplugged his computer while he was slaying a dragon and so he threw a vase at her head and she called the cops. They divorced eventually and he was back online within a month. And pretty much everyone knows about that poor sod on 20/20 who killed himself because he lost all his armor and couldn’t find it. Never mind that he was mentally ill to begin with.
But that being said, there is no denying that the game is thrilling and scary. I can’t tell you how many times I stood toe-to-toe with a dragon or some other equally as formidable nemesis and I was actually physically frightened. I am not kidding you. My heart was beating, my mouth was dry and I actually felt fear. Playing does involve a fair amount of skill and knowledge regardless of the fact that most actions could be performed by the click of a mouse and a few keyboard short cuts.
So why is it that this game is so compelling? What is it about Everquest that glues people to their computers, causes divorces and draws hundreds of thousands of people to congregate every year in a different location for the sole purpose of discussing this game. In short why do people become so psychologically addicted to games, or to Everquest in particular?
I think it is in a large part due to the relatively short order in which lasting goals can be achieved in game. Think about it, in your RL (real life) you can be the fattest slob with no family, friends or job and no plans to rectify this situation during your lifetime, but in game you are the cat’s meow. You have the broadest sword, you are tall and handsome and courageous. Not only that, but you are making in roads daily to being even more of a force to be reckoned with. If you want to take up blacksmithing, with a few clicks of the mouse and several thousand platinum pieces you can be a master blacksmith. You can monitor your progress per click while watching your skill go up. As you kill monsters you watch your experience level rise and when you sell items, you can deposit the money in your bank account making it easy to be a saver.
It makes you wonder why, when the game parallels life in many ways, productive gamers are not necessarily productive members of society. I suspect it is because saving, learning lessons, advancing in skill is predictable and takes less effort than it does in RL. Thus you can be relatively sure that when you take up a new skill, say pottery, you will not fail. You are equal with everyone else for the most part. If you put enough money and enough clicks into the mix you will come out a master at everything you choose to do. Everquest provides small attainable goals and a way to be exactly what you might not be in RL – courageous, handsome, skinny, athletic, a saver, a doer, a leader a deal-maker, whatever. And when you are done attaining one small goal, there is always another to try your hand at. In many ways, it is just psychological masturbation.
Canceling my subscription to Everquest was tantamount to breaking up a serious relationship. I wasn’t sure I should do it and I was worried that I might not find another game that I would feel as strongly about. Every now and then I still go through a sort of withdrawal where I reminisce fondly about a specific zone or a daring venture and I worry that maybe I made the wrong choice. My new game, City of Heros, doesn’t seem to measure up in complexity and excitement and I worry that it won’t have the staying power of EQ.
After all, Everquest was more than just a game. It was our alternative to television, our connection to friends, and a mutual activity for my husband and I. Like any other addiction though, it was sure to run its course or destroy its host. In this case it ran its course. After 4 years we retired the game and got back to the business of RL…or something like it anyway.
