Imagine being born into a world where everyone is able to choose their own gender, appearance and native skill-set. No matter who you are, you start life on the same footing as everyone else, knowing that in order to succeed, the only requirement is to work – and not only do you possess a base aptitude for your chosen field, but there can be no discrimination on the grounds of age, race, gender or physical appearance. Simply put in enough hours, and the universe guarantees you a successful outcome. But even if you do run into difficulty, there’s a failsafe mechanism to fall back on: either choose to start a new life, or return to an earlier point in time, equipped with the memory of a mistake you haven’t technically made, but which you are now aware of and, presumably, able to avoid.
If the above scenario sounds appealing, then it should be easy to understand why so many people invest hours of each day playing RPGs, or role-playing games. Descended from early tabletop games such as Dungeons and Dragons, modern computer-based RPGs take on many forms: single-player campaigns with pre-constructed characters on a set narrative trajectory, as per the Final Fantasy franchise; goal-oriented single-player missions with potential player-vs-player scenarios, as in the various Pokemon releases; and, most prominently, MMORPGs – massive multiplayer online games, where thousands of players interact with each other in a digital environment, the most obvious example of which is World of Warcraft. This latter class of game is, arguably, the most intriguing, as it requires players to collaborate with one another, forming friendships and alliances within the context of the game which invariably lead to real-life emotional connections.
For a fascinating account of the relationships in the context of MMORPGs, I recommend reading Nicholas Yee’s short paper, The Psychology of Massively Multi-User Online Role-Playing Games, authored in 2004. By studying the online habits, preferences and motives of 30,000 MMORPG users between 2000 and 2003, Yee uncovered a complex cross-section of players, only 25% of whom, despite the conventional stereotype, were adolescents. While such an area of study might seem bizarre to some, MMORPGs do have a measurable impact on real-world scenarios, beginning with the fact that, as of 2004, it was revealed that the online Everquest game had the same GDP as Namibia, while the current economics of Second Life are staggering. In fact, despite the Global Financial Crisis™ having knocked real-world economies for six, their virtual equivalents are positively booming.
All this results from the emotional investment players have for their game-worlds. Consider the phenomenon of gold farming, wherein certain users will acquire large amounts of virtual currency for the express purpose of selling it to other players in exchange for real-world money. In order to obtain virtual currency in the first place, however, the gold farmers must also play the game themselves, albeit in a more repetitive and unpleasant fashion than the players to whom they sell, with their transactions originating in in-game contact – effectively, a species of voluntary outsourcing. Such supply and demand couldn’t exist without emotional investment in virtual environments, as the value ascribed to virtual currency is dependent entirely on the desire of users to succeed in-game.
There is a human element, too, though it can often seem incomprehensible to onlookers. For instance, after marrying her husband in-game (though not in real life), a woman took revenge when her virtual spouse divorced her by illegally deleting his character, a crime for which she was arrested. Elsewhere, a couple divorcing in the real world started feuding over the distribution of their in-game assets. More happily, there is also a significant number of real-world couples who meet in the course of online play: as Yee points out, MMORPGs bring together people with similar interests and personality types, making it a profitable way to meet friends and partners. But there is a darker side too, with video game addiction now regarded as a serious enough problem such that clinics have opened in different parts of the world for its specific treatment.
Though tragic, it is perhaps understandable why some players succumb to addiction. After all, in the face of real-world problems, who wouldn’t on some level prefer to spend time in a place where they know they can succeed, where their looks don’t matter, and where different ideals are upheld? Even for those of us who play RPGs on a purely recreational basis, there is something of a thrill to the notion of levelling up: even though each new level gained is just a number, it is a tangible representation of the effort we’ve put in, a signifier to ourselves and to other players of our skills and commitment. Virtual worlds might appear to be closed systems, arenas in which our achievements have no bearing on external competence or success, but the same might equally be said of sport. What matters is the community, the emotional connection we have to the other players in the game in which we’re participating, the enjoyment and release it brings us as a break from the everyday. Ultimately, we all want level playing fields, and where we find them unavailable in daily life, we seek to create them in games – adult, child and adolescent alike.
