Peter J.T. Langdon

It didn't take me long to get out of my character's native icy relm in search of more hospitable, and I found it in Westfall. You see, Westfall has a special feeling for me. In it's harvest theme of eternal autumn, I feel most at home. I love the beautiful surroundings. My reasons are personal: I have spent much of my life in areas where the autumn is a predominant force, and now that I am away from such places, Westfall is a nice substitute. A pixelated and man-made substitute, sure, but we take what we can get.

I found myself alone in those golden plains, soloing with my pet. Being by myself was perfectly fine with me, as I had cut my videogaming teeth on the single-player RPGs of the '80s and '90s. But what I really wanted to do was role-play.

After my initial fascination with NES and PC games like Final Fantasy, the Legend of Zelda, and Zork, I discovered D&D. It normally requires more than one person to play, but as an army brat who had enough trouble finding friends ? let alone friends who wanted to play D&D ? I somehow found a way. I read the supplements and rolled up characters I would never officially play. I desperately hoped for something that could bridge the gap between these paper-and-pencil rule systems I loved and the videogames that gave me so much pleasure. When my parents signed up for America Online, I found that my prayers had been answered.

When I joined the dial-up ranks of AOL in 1997, I discovered Gemstone III, one of the classic MUDs of the age. Text-based and intricately designed, it offered the opportunity to role-play in a fantasy world with thousands of others. Role-playing was not only encouraged, it was almost required. Out-of-character messages could be conveyed by whispering to other characters or putting your text in parentheses. The races were fleshed out culturally, and religions and superstitions alike were alive and well. There was even a place where you could upload artwork or fiction for others to view. To suggest that Gemstone was (and is) a place monopolized by heavy role-players would be false, but the majority of gamers were there to take active part in a different world. The overall atmosphere was that of a place where you played a role ? not a game.

And if you were loath to deal with any sort of statistics, you were merely a click away from the chat rooms, where free-form gaming happened in a place most of the gamers called ?Rhydin.? There you could meet anyone from Dragons to street punks to vampires. The atmosphere was casual, and people could talk about what they wanted and enact moments of drama, all in character. AOL profiles were designed to describe their characters. Guilds were created and joined. Hearts were broke, and arguments inevitably broke out. The net result, however, was a fairly creative environment where one could develop characters, create plotlines, and meet new friends. And if a hater came in and started messing with someones fun (as they inevitably did), in a flash you could create another room and continue where you'd left off.

I went into World of Warcraft knowing that online gaming had changed. When I noticed that the servers were divided into various types (PvP, RP, PvP/RP, etc.), I was overjoyed. I thought it was an excellent idea, letting everyone find a place where they felt most comfortable. The reality, however, was not what I expected. At best, the chat was silent. At worst, it was a mishmash of stat-talk, nonsensical outbursts, and people spamming to persuade others to join their guilds.

I started in Alliance as a Dwarf. Inevitably, however, the urge to become something nasty and monstrous became too much for me, and I joined the Horde, where many other gamers said the ?older crowd? tended to play. I stayed there for most of my gaming time. The world was not filled with role-playing, but at least it was relatively quiet.

Recently I came back to the Alliance, to see Westfall. I stayed on for an afternoon and left, deleting my character in a hurry. A Thursday evening gaming session revealed the chat to be a downright hostile place, filled with juvenile innuendo, leet-speak, and general utter nonsense. The ?/ignore? macro became a well-worn area of my keyboard. When I got back to my old home base with the Horde, the quiet just wasn't wrth it anymore. I decided to start looking actively for a way to rle-play. People recruiting for guilds sometimes advertised ?heavy RP,? so I joined one.

Most of these role-playing-dedicated guilds delivered on their promise. Still, it seemed wrong that a person should have to join a guild to role-play, especially when the server was supposedly created for that very purpose. Role-playing is alive on the forums, as well. But this does not touch the real issue at hand: How do serious role-players take back the servers given to them? And, more to the point, how did we loose them?

The attitude on the forums seems to be one of reluctant concession. ?Most role-playing servers,? says one poster, ?have lost the battle.? Is it too much to ask that there be some sort of penalty for ?breaking the fourth wall,? so to speak? If you read the ?Role-playing FAQ? on the official forums, you will find the statement that, ?if you are caught going Out-of-Character too often and in the wrong ways you can, and probably will, be reported for it.?

Does Blizzard take these complaints seriously? With tens of thousands of accounts banned last year for gold farming, perhaps their priority lies elsewhere. This is understandable. Gold farming can sometimes screw up the flow of role-playing just as badly as a jerk who spends his time tying up the chat boards with ?NooBS? and ?OMG UR A FAG DOOD.? Perhaps, then, the heaviest burden lies on us as role-players.

Right befor Burning Crusade opened for business, Blizzard announced that it had reached eight million players worldwide. Many role-players see this figure as both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, more players means more variety and more opportunities for expansion and deeper storylines in the future.

On the other hand, more players means more overcrowding, more characters with names like ?Imasexydood,? and more screaming infants in chat.

Why are role-players finding fewer and fewer safe havens? It isn't from lack of material to work with. Blizzard has done a stellar job of creating rich, meaningful cultures for the vast, gorgeous world that we play in. There are exiled Gnomes trying to carve out a new niche for themselves int a war-torn world. There are xenophobic Trolls, fearful and hateful of every other race, including the very ones that they have allied themselves with. We have magic-obsessed Blood Elves, who have become addicted to the power, literally shaking from withdrawal when they are out of its reach. We even have a race that has fallen out of the sky. The opportunities to create something meaningful and fun exist.

Sure, there are other options. Chat-room role-playing is still as active as it ever was. Gemstone remains steadfast and thriving. But what about those of us who have fallen for Gnomeregan or Blackrock Spire? Perhaps you've met that special Orc that makes your heart go pitter-patter. Or maybe you've just grown to love the bright, beautiful world that Blizzard has created.

Whatever your reasons, now's the time to take back what you love. Greet others with a hearty ?Hail!? Create a background for your character and share it with others. Throw ?Huzzahs? around like they're candy. No one stole anything from us that we can't get back if we want it badly enough. Opportunity is all over the place ? we just need to take back what is rightfully ours.

  Untilthen, what's a role-player to do but bitch?