World Of Warcraft The Newb of All Newbs
Before
today, my computer gaming resume listed “solitaire.” That’s all.
Just solitaire, which I totally own, but which doesn’t exactly qualify
me for the big time. My experience with
“role playing” amounted to trying to keep it real in my own life, where I use
my superpowers to sustain my role as Wonder Mom. That’s all.
I rule the carpool and I dominate the grocery store and Target.
In World of
Warcraft, I am the newb of all newbs. I
have no idea what I am doing, but my curiosity and initiative drive me. I consider this adventure something like a
quest; is there a grail at the end of this journey into a terrifying
wilderness?
Because I
am “green” as spring’s first twig, green as Kermit himself, I begin at the very
beginning. I learn the basic basics…
World
of Warcraft,
often referred to as WoW, is a “massively multiplayer online
role-playing game” (MMORPG).
Can I say that ten times fast?
MMORPG, MMORPG… It’s the “RP”
that matters, but the “MM”—massively multi-player—definitely intimidates
me. I may be innocent but I am not
naïve: We are talkin’ massive: More than 11.5 million people subscribe to this
game every month. Good to know it
requires a subscription: I get to pay money to watch my own annihilation? How fun!
Meanwhile, these 11.5 million players helped WoW set the World’s Record for the most popular MMORPG—they’re in The Guinness Book of World Records and
everything. Right this minute, nearly
two-thirds of the people playing “MMOG’s” are playing World of Warcraft. I don’t
think it’s an accident they call it “WoW,” hunh?
When I
sign-up for my ten-day free trial, I will control my avatar. I get that, but can I be cuter in the game
than in real life? I mean, even if monsters are gobbling me in single bites, I
still want to look good while they devour me.
If I understand this deal correctly, I at least get a little bit of time
to explore the landscape and take a few practice shots on wimpy ogres before I
really undertake a serious challenge. I
hope I get a little time to develop my skills in the minor leagues before I
have to take the field in the majors.
How embarrassing to show-up, make a cameo, and immediately die!
The WoW
website tells me, “World of Warcraft is a living,
breathing online adventure world.”
Okay, I reassure myself, that’s a little hyperbole, but with ten million
people imagining and innovating, I’d hazard the guess that this virtual world
has quickened and taken-on life of its own.
It’s only the “breathing” part that leaves me a little uneasy; but I’m
guessing I’ll get used to it.
The
website says, when I log-on, I will become one among “thousands of mighty
heroes in an online world of myth, magic, and limitless
adventure.” I’ve never been “mighty”
before. That alone will inspire the next
mouse-click. But I also get a little
foreshadowing, a subtle taste of what awaits: As I wander through this
wonderland, I ultimately will face the dragon of Blackrock Spire; he cannot be
any worse than my Ph.D. committee, can he?
Is it a he? And I will perform community
service as I “cleanse the undead from the looming ziggurats of Stratholme”—good
thing I know what ziggurats are and have a little prior experience with
climbing them. And, hey, I even can look
forward to a little inventive anachronism: I’ll fly a zeppelin over a
“smoldering” battlefield. My
characteristic pessimism kicks-in just a little: with my luck, my zeppelin will
be The Hindenburg.
The
first screen asserts, “An infinity of new experiences await.” Then, it demands, “So what are you waiting
for?” Because I have no good reason for
hesitating, balking, or waiting, I take the plunge. I delicately press and click.
The
guys at Blizzard Entertainment, the geniuses who created this seductive,
highly-addictive masterpiece, really like the word “mighty.” Before she downloads and begins play, the
newb needs to know that without high-speed internet access and lots of ROM,
she’s toast. In other words, your
computer and its peripherals must be as “mighty” as the terrain she’s about to
enter and the horrible wild things she’s about to battle.
The
business part of this goes simply and straight-forwardly enough. Although I feel a little surprised that a
place which empowers my imaginary self demands all the details about my
authentic self, I feel reassured that it’s all encrypted, and I just type and
click my way through the three-step process that whisks me into this virtual
landscape.
In
my first five minutes, the tips and helpers answer all my questions, allying
all my doubts. I can play for ten days
for absolutely free; they got all my digits, but they required no credit card
for my initiation. My avatar is at least
as cute as I—even with tusks; and I have chosen to train as a priest. I get to see other players as they go on
their quests, but we’re not required to talk; and when we do chat, they’re nice
to me. One vaguely attractive young
knight shows me how to dance. My avatar
has some nice moves.
In
my first ten minutes, I have slain ten wild boars, acquired some “mighty”
skills and experiences, satisfied my first initiation requirement, and taken-on
my second assignment. A few ogre guys
tell me they’re not amused when I touch them or ask them questions; but, hey,
that’s not so different from my real life.
I can manage it. I have enjoyed a
tasty snack and some truly refreshing cool water after my boar-battles, and I
have some nifty new items in my backpack.
In
fifteen minutes, I have evolved from terrified wanna-be to complete rookie to
emerging warriorette. That’s not a bad
day’s work. I’m hooked. I’ll be back.
I have a mission to complete.
