There are two things that define an MMOG: its game mechanics, and its
community. The game mechanics are what cause me to initially choose one
game over another. I'm looking forward to Vanguard because I would like
to see the challenge put back into games. I want a game where tactics
are important, I want tough penalties so my accomplishments mean something,
I want choices, and Vanguard seems to promise this. Looking at the various
games I've played, EQ remains one of the best--because it offers players
more choices. Even today, with all of the "handholding," even
with all the things that frustrate me, I still find EQ by far and away
one of the best games out there. As a caster, the spells I have memorized
can make or break an encounter (what do you mean I only have eight spell
slots? I have pages and pages of spells!), and this, to me, is a large
part of what makes it so fascinating.

Ultimately, however, what holds me to a game has little to do with its coded
mechanics. It's the game's community that makes a game, or rings its death
knell. Thinking about what I miss the most from the games I've quit--it
isn't the games themselves, it's the people I got to know. I can debate
mechanics until I am blue in the face, but I'll stick around in a game that
I don't care for all that much, if I have a lot of friends there. When talking
about the games I've played, my stories often have very little to do with
the game, so much as the successes and failures that came from interacting
with other people within the game. It's our triumphs that I speak of and
remember fondly. Our tragedies. The kindnesses I received from strangers
that saved the day, and the jerks that caused me to log out in disgust.
I quit Lineage 2 because of all the gold farmers, but I miss it because
I really miss my adventuring buddies.

All of this leads me to wonder a few things. As can be expected from
my above commentary, I personally believe that a game is only as good
as its community, a stance that I have been incredibly pleased to see
Sigil taking, but how is such a community started? How does a playerbase
as a whole take on the characteristics of a "good community"?
I think that the playerbase of a game has as much responsibility for the
success of a game as the dev team, but how much responsibility should
be expected from a game's community? The playerbase is, after all, a collection
of customers paying for entertainment. There is a sense of entitlement
that is brought along with this--I'm paying for the game, I'm here to
entertain myself, why should I care about the community and the game as
a whole?

The simplest thing to look at, in an attempt to answer to what forms
community, is the game's mechanics. Does it provide a means to assist
a player in finding other like-minded players? A game, particularly a
game that promises a lot of choices like Vanguard, requires a good LFG
system, and places where people will cross paths. I need places where
I can go if I am looking for a group, and places where the odds of my
running across someone else while hunting are pretty high, particularly
at the lower levels where I'm really starting to meet the people around
me. In most games that I've played, I've met the people who end up being
my usual groupmates within the first ten levels. Wherever people end up
meeting, be it well-traveled crossroads, cities, or dungeons, a good game
needs to subtly direct its players in such a way that they have the ability
to find places to hunt without feeling too confined, and end up encountering
other players now and again. A large world is an excellent thing, I like
being able to get lost, to wander for hours without seeing another soul,
but if the game is nothing but large tracts of empty land, it can become
boring pretty quickly.

Class interdependency is one of the most vital pieces of the ways a game
encourages social interactions. It's a difficult balance to strike, however;
I want to be encouraged to look for other players, but I don't want to
feel that I can't progress unless there's a specific class logged in and
near me. That interdependency also must run in both directions--if one
particular class is required above all others, then the game begins to
feel rigid. It's for this reason that I have always objected to resurrections
providing a return of some of the XP that was lost in death.

Healers are perhaps the most sought after class in an MMOG--many people
believe that adventuring without a healer is impossible. When looking
at simple health gain and loss, there is little difference between holds,
stuns, and slows and healing--healing covers the loss of health after
the fact, but stuns, holds and slows prevent that health from being lost
in the first place. Good tactics can overcome the lack of heals; other
classes can fill in with damage mitigation. If clerical resurrections
are the only way to regain lost XP, however, there is no way to get around
the lack of a cleric. No amount of the use of good tactics will return
that lost XP.

Another problem is making a class depend upon others, but not providing
reasons for it to be desired by other classes. To my mind, this is where
City of Heroes often fails, for the various archetypes tend to get in
each other's way, leaving some archetypes needing other people more than
they themselves are needed.

When discussing community, however, I'm not merely discussing groups,
but the level and quality of how people interact with each other throughout
the game. Whether that interaction is taking place in groups, on the chat
channels, when they meet hunting, in the streets of cities, or during
trading, the level of respect that players give to one another is an important
aspect of a game's health. Much as my initial interest in grouping with
someone is determined by how they choose to approach me, new players,
especially players new to MMOGs, will often judge a game by the conversations
that happen around them. I've left servers because of the conversations
on the OOC channels, so I can easily see how some of the conversations
I've seen over the years that I've been playing MMOGs might drive away
new players from MMOGs entirely. I'm often a fan of the line of reasoning
that says if I don't like something, I don't have to look at it; however,
I also believe that public behavior should reflect a respect for those
around me, and do we really want to be convincing new players that MMOGs
are hostile places?

I was advised a while ago by an old EQ player that when choosing a server,
before settling in to the point where leaving becomes a question of investment,
I should spend some time watching the OOC conversations, and perhaps ask
a question to see how people respond. Some of the best advice I've received,
but let's not forget that not all players are savvy enough to know that
different servers have different environments. A player new to MMOGs might
very likely just assume that there is little difference between the servers
other than name, and when encountering a hostile community--simply leave
the game, or MMOGs altogether.

Care is really what it comes down to. When I'm logging into an MMOG,
I'm not merely logging into a game, I'm joining a community…a community
where, unlike day-to-day life, I can be assured of having something in
common with everyone I meet; we're all interested in having a fun experience
in the game we've chosen. Even if I'm soloing in an MMOG, it's not all
about me. Soloing still means I'm logging in to experience the community,
to take part in it. The very act of purchasing an MMOG over a single-player
game says that the buyer is looking to join a community. Shouldn't we
all then, as a part of a game's playerbase, take responsibility for making
the game the best it can be? I'm looking forward to seeing the community
that forms within Vanguard upon its release. I've enjoyed being a part
of the communities that have sprung up around the official site and the
fansites, and I'm eager to see the fruits of Sigil's attempts to influence
the growth of Vanguard's community.