When Is an MMO Really Dead?

One of my favourite scientific mysteries is the debate over what constitutes death. You might think that’s a simple question to answer, but it’s not. People can be revived after their hearts stop, if too much time hasn’t passed. Even after the brain dies, some biological processes continue for some time, making death much less a hard line and more of a continuum.

The moon rising over Stormwind in World of Warcraft

In the same way, it’s a lot harder than you’d think to define at what point an MMORPG can be considered a “dead” game. There is never any shortage of people willing to claim that any and every game is dead or dying, after all. If you want a creative way to commit suicide, try taking a drink every time someone on a forum claims WoW is dying, and enjoy your liver failure.

But for every person declaring a game dead, there’s usually at least one or two still playing it, so can it really be dead?

Let’s see if we can determine when, in fact, an MMO actually dies.

Decline

A lot of times when someone says a game is dead or dying, really what they mean is that it’s in decline. Player numbers are down, and patches are becoming smaller or less frequent.

That this is considered to qualify as “dead” really proves nothing but how hyperbolic some members of the community can be, even before we consider the fact that in many “dying” games the extent of the decline tends to be greatly exaggerated. No one likes a content gap, but it doesn’t a dying game make.

Even in cases where the decline is real, I think we can safely declare that it doesn’t mean a game is dead. No product stays at the peak of its success forever, and a certain degree of decline is not cause for panic.

Maintenance Mode

At the end of its life-cycle, an MMO reaches the stage known as maintenance mode. No further development is planned; if patches come at all, they’ll only be minor bug fixes or other maintenance tasks.

This is where things get a bit more debatable. A large part of what makes MMOs special is that they are living, evolving games that grow with time. When you cut that off, it ceases to function as an MMO in a very fundamental way.

Baron Samedi, loa of death, in The Secret World, a game that is itself dead by some standards

It also does the playerbase no favors. Maintenance mode ensures that few if any new players will join, and even loyal veterans are likely to start drifting away.

Still, games can continue operating in maintenance mode for many years. Just ask players of the original Guild Wars. And if people are still playing and having fun, is that truly a dead game?

Closure

For those who aren’t Chicken Littles proclaiming death upon a game at the slightest sign of trouble, the most obvious time to declare a game dead is when it officially closes. The servers go dark, characters people have sunk potentially hundreds of hours into are lost to the aether, mournful blog posts are shared across cyberspace, and loyal players are left to find a new digital home.

A closed game seems pretty conclusively dead. Certainly the former players will go into mourning.

And yet, even then, death is not always truly death. Formerly closed games sometimes return, perhaps under new publishers, though these resurrections tend to be short-lived. See the rollercoaster life cycle of Hellgate: London.

Even failing an official resurrection, MMOs can still cheat death following closure. This is the world of emulators, wherein passionate fans salvage old code to run private servers of their favourite games.

The poster child for this phenomenon has to be Star Wars Galaxies, a game whose intensely passionate fanbase has kept its memory alive through a thriving emulator community.

This, more than anything else, illustrates what a nebulous concept the idea of a “dead” game is. SWG fits the bill of a dead game better than most anything, having been officially shuttered for many years and being far beyond the hope of any growth or further development. And yet there are plenty of people playing it right now, as you read this.

Promotional art for Hellgate: London, a game that has died perhaps more times than any other

And again, if people are playing it, can you truly say it’s dead?

Extinction

So if even an official closure doesn’t always mean the end of an MMO, what is true death for an online game?

I would say that a game is only truly and irrevocably dead when it has been erased beyond any hope of revival. When its assets have been utterly expunged from the digital world, and its fanbase has vanished or diminished beyond recognition.

And in the age of the Internet, that’s spectacularly hard to do. Not impossible, of course — just ask the players of that Korean MMO that was deleted from existence a few years back — but given how hard it is to ever fully erase anything from the Internet, the odds of any MMORPG being killed beyond any hope of revival are surprisingly slim.

And that makes all the hand-wringing over “dying” games seem all that much more silly. If you listened to the commentariat, you would be left with the impression that MMOs are fragile things, rarely surviving past their initial launch and under constant threat of disappearing, but the exact opposite is true. MMOs are, by and large, incredibly resilient, and extremely difficult to truly kill.

That doesn’t make it less upsetting when a game you love begins to decline or even closes, but it’s something to keep in mind. If you worry for the future of your favorite game or wonder whether it’s worth investing in a new title if it’s not topping the charts, always remember just how hard it is for an MMO to truly die.


Comparing MMORPG Group Content

MMOs are, at their heart, about playing with other people. Even as a mainly solo player, I acknowledge this. To this end, developers have come up with many forms of content designed specifically to be tackled by groups, but they’re not all created equal. Each form of group content has its pros and cons.

A group flashpoint in Star Wars: The Old Republic

Dungeons

Dungeons are the archetypical RPG experience: a party of adventures venturing into forgotten ruins in search of wealth and glory. In MMORPGs, dungeons are usually for groups of about four to six players, which makes them a happy balance between being social but not too crowded.

Dungeons tend to represent a stepping stone between the easy outdoor content and the more challenging raids. This is both one of their chief virtues, and their downfall.

The problem with dungeons is that they are, almost invariably, viewed only as that stepping stone. They are rarely granted the privilege of being an endgame unto themselves, instead being treated as little more than a funnel into raids. This makes it hard to achieve satisfying progression as a dungeon fan. You end up living as a second class citizen to the “real” players, who raid.

Raids

For better or for worse, raids have long been held up as the pinnacle of MMO group content. They feature the largest group sizes, the highest difficulty, and the best rewards.

For those who enjoy them, raids are as good as it gets. The MMO community is full of stories of fond memories, lifelong friendships, and even marriages that grew out of raid groups.

The downside is that while the raiding community is incredibly vocal and passionate, it’s also incredibly small. Due to the high time and skill requirements of raiding, most players simply can’t be bothered. Hard numbers for such things are always difficult to come by, but from the evidence I’ve seen it seems that raiders usually make up about 1-5% of a MMORPG’s playerbase, at best.

Fighting the Sha of Pride raid boss in World of Warcraft

The problem arises from the fact that raids are also very resource intensive, and by their nature as the intended pinnacle of endgame, they tend to offer the most desirable rewards and the highest production values. Thus, huge amounts of development resources are being devoted to a tiny minority of players.

It’s not impossible for raiders and non-raiders to coexist, but it’s a difficult tightrope for a developer to walk. You need to reward the raiders for their hard work without kneecapping everyone else. Raids are inherently disruptive to the balance of a game.

Small Group Content

By “small group content,” I mean content that is designed for groups, but groups of a size less than the traditional dungeon group — two to three people.

The fact there’s no commonly accepted term for content scaled to this size — the way there is for dungeons and raids — should tell you how common it is. World of Warcraft experimented with scenarios in its Mists of Pandaria expansion, which were catered to three player groups, and the upcoming Battle for Azeroth will add a similar feature in the form of Island Expeditions. Secret World Legends also has a feature called scenarios that can done by duos, but beyond those I struggle to think of many examples of dedicated small group content in MMOs (feel free to mention others in the comments).

People who prefer to play in twos or threes are therefore usually relegated to playing quest content that was designed for soloists, forcing them to endure phasing issues or difficulty that wasn’t tuned for more than one person.

And I really don’t understand why. Again, not being a developer or researcher, I don’t have hard numbers, but anecdotally as a longtime MMO player, I’ve found that groups of two or three (often couples or close friend groups) are by far and away the most common form of social group in MMOs. The fact that most group content is built solely for larger groups baffles me.

PvP

The chaotic PvP combat of WildStar

PvP doesn’t immediately come to mind for me when discussing group content, but duels and the occasional gank notwithstanding, player versus player gameplay is almost always group-based.

The trouble with PvP from a social perspective is that it necessitates losers as well as winners. For this reason, it has a higher potential for toxicity (not that PvE doesn’t have its fair share, as well).

As a result, I think it’s better to enter PvP with a group of people you already know and trust, rather than trying to form connections mid-match. The exception may be for slower paced, larger scale PvP such as Guild Wars 2’s WvW or Cyrodiil in Elder Scrolls Online. The persistent nature of those contests gives time for meaningful social connections to flourish.

Public Events

A world boss spawns, and the call goes out in general chat. In a matter of minutes, dozens or even hundreds of players descend upon the unsuspecting mob, full of fire, fury, and the lust for loot.

First introduced by the dearly departed Warhammer Online and made a major selling feature of both Rift and Guild Wars 2, public events are MMOs at their wildest and most chaotic. Whether this is a positive or a negative depends on personal perspective, but for my money, I feel public events are the purest expression of what MMORPGs should be, organic and epic in equal measure.

That said, there are other perspectives. Many argue — with more than a little justification — that public events are naught by mindless zergs. Even as a huge fan of the concept, I struggle to defend them from this criticism.

Others say that the lack of organization makes it difficult if not impossible to form meaningful social connections. If it’s just a mindless swarm of people spamming abilities, where’s the opportunity for friendships to form?

It’s a worthy concern, but I must say that the one and only meaningful friendship I ever made via MMOs was with someone I met at a world boss fight in The Secret World…


Five MMOs with the Most Dedicated Communities

MMORPG players are, by nature, an unusually devoted bunch. You have to be to sink hundreds or thousands of hours into a single game. But one thing I’ve noticed over the years is that some games’ communities are a bit more dedicated than most. They’re communities that will stick with a game through content gaps or major design blunders, or communities that grow so close they feel more like families.

Lord of the Rings Online

The Inn of the Prancing Pony in Lord of the Rings Online

When people talk about MMOs with good communities — especially good role-play communities — one of the first names that always comes up is Lord of the Rings Online. I haven’t spent much time in LotRO myself, but I’ve seen the praises of its community being sung high and low.

While the online world is awash in tales of toxicity and harassment, LotRO players are mostly known for being polite, mature, and helpful.

This is most evident in the famed player-run events held in LotRO, which allow players to show off both their commitment to the game and their community spirit. Most famous of these is “Weatherstock,” an actual in-game music festival where player bands perform for crowds of fans.

A good community doesn’t just happen. It’s something that has to be built and maintained, and that’s something that LotRO players seem to understand well. They care about their game and its community enough to go that extra mile.

EVE Online

eve online good mmorpg to play with friends image

EVE Online is one of the most notoriously difficult to pick up MMOs on the market. Most people who try it don’t last more than an hour or two. A lot of people (myself included) never even make it out of the tutorial.

Those who survive the initial learning curve do so because they have an intense passion for the game, its deep mechanics, and its cutthroat politics. EVE players are dedicated because their game simply won’t accept any less.

It’s that passion, combined with the game’s anarchic emergent gameplay, that allows the EVE community to generate more headlines than perhaps any other MMO’s players. It seems like almost every other month we get a new story of a major heist, or a brutal gank with a cost equivalent to thousands of real world dollars, or an hours-long battle involving thousands of players. One need look no further than the infamous World War Bee to see what the EVE community is capable of.

The EVE community is not always the friendliest bunch, nor the most trustworthy, but their passion and their dedication cannot be denied.

Star Wars Galaxies

A group of players in Star Wars Galaxies

How do you know if someone was a Star Wars Galaxies player? Don’t worry; they’ll tell you.

I kid, but it is a fact that to this day you can find no shortage of SWG players happy to sing the praises of what is often considered one of the greatest sandbox MMOs of all time. Galaxies players survived two of the biggest controversies in MMO history — the “Combat Upgrade” and “New Game Enhancements” — and continue to keep the memory of the game alive even years after its closure with countless think pieces and nostalgic blog posts, and a thriving emulator community.

If that’s not true dedication, I don’t know what is.

City of Heroes

A rally of City of Heroes players

Another dead game whose memory endures thanks to an incredibly passionate fanbase.

With a strong role-play community and little competition from other superhero MMOs, City of Heroes boasted one of the most tightly knit playerbases in the MMO world when it was alive, and even now that it’s dead, that community endures, albeit in a diminished fashion.

For proof of this, one need look no further than the bevy of crowdfunded “spiritual successors” to City of Heroes that are in development: City of Titans, Ship of Heroes, Valiance Online…

For those who need their City of Heroes fix in a more immediate form, there’s also Paragon Chat. While not a full emulator, it does allow former CoH players to reconnect via a minimalist recreation of the game that includes some of the environments and the ability to chat with other players, though not actual gameplay.

Secret World Legends

The Whispering Tide community-driven event in The Secret World

The original Secret World was a game renowned for having one of the most warm and mature online communities around. Having been an avid TSW player myself, I always felt that such stories were a tad exaggerated — we still had our share of trolls and elitists — but certainly TSW’s community was a cut above the average.

And I certainly can’t deny that they were also among the most fanatically devoted. I shudder to imagine how many hours of sleep I’ve lost delving into novel-length theory threads on the old lore forums.

Most communities would not have survived the upheaval Funcom handed down when it rebooted the game as Secret World Legends, and indeed, much harm was done to the playerbase. Many refused to give up years of progress by jumping over to the new game — myself included.

But many did make the change, and those that did surely deserve to be viewed as some of the most devoted players in all of online gaming. No one else would have the patience to endure being made to start over from scratch.

I don’t know if the TSW/SWL community is necessarily the most friendly nor the most dedicated, of all time, but it is the one that felt most like home to me, and thus it will always hold a special place in my heart.


How to Fix Lockboxes

Lockboxes. Oh, yes, we’re talking about them again. The endless controversy over this most-maligned monetization practice has players constantly clamoring for lockboxes to be banned (with some success in certain regions), but I don’t feel that banning them outright is the way to go. It’s not as if developers are simply going to shrug and accept making less money. They’ll find a way to make up the difference, by sneaking lockboxes back in through legal loopholes or adopting some new and even more predatory practice.

A legendary skin from Overwatch's ubiquitous lockboxes

I think it’s more realistic — and safer — to find ways to make lockboxes less problematic. I don’t think most games handle them very well, but I don’t think the concept is beyond redemption. I think lockboxes can be fixed.

Add Transparency

When people talk about regulating lockboxes in online games, one of most common suggestions that comes up — when people aren’t just asking for them to be banned outright — is to add transparency by publicly listing the drop rates of everything in the boxes, something already achieved in China.

Personally I think we all understand that the odds of getting the best reward from a lockbox are vanishingly small, but putting more information in the hands of the consumer is never a bad thing, and it might help to remove the perception of dishonesty that tends to swirl around lockboxes.

Make Them Earnable In-Game

Gamers tend to dislike when desirable in-game items are only available for real cash. But we tend to calm down a lot when those same items can be earned through gameplay as well as by forking over the dough.

Overwatch is a good example of a game that lets people earn a fair number of boxes just by playing the game normally. I suspect this is why Overwatch tends to avoid the wrath of the community despite being one of the more transparent examples of a game built entirely around selling lockboxes.

Another way to put lockbox items within reach of those who can’t or won’t spend real money is to make them tradeable in-game. Star Wars: The Old Republic does this with its ubiquitous lockboxes; everything found in Cartel Crates can be bought, sold, and traded between players, meaning that (at least in theory) everything can be earned without spending a dime.

Add Bad Luck Protection

A character in the lockbox-happy MMORPG Star Wars: The Old Republic

The trouble with randomized lockboxes is that you could buy literally hundreds of them and still have no guarantee of getting the item you want. This is of course part of what makes them such a successful business model, but it’s also a large part of why they’re so hated.

This criticism can be countered somewhat by adding in some sort of failsafe against bad luck. The simplest and most common way to do this is to add some sort of currency found within lockboxes alongside an option to purchase lockbox items directly with said currency. Overwatch and Elder Scrolls Online both do this by converting duplicate items found in boxes into a currency.

Realistically you’ll still need to buy a fair few boxes to get what you want, but at least you know you’re working toward a goal. You’ll get what you want… eventually.

Making lockbox items tradeable, as mentioned above, is another way to achieve this. If you want that rare mount really badly, you don’t need to gamble. Just grind in-game currency until you can buy it from someone else.

Keep Them Cosmetic Only

I’ve spent a lot of time talking about how the concept of “pay to win” isn’t really worth worrying about, at least in most MMOs. Frankly selling character power for real cash doesn’t bother me that much. I don’t like it, but it’s not something I lose sleep over.

But I think we can pretty much all agree putting player power in lockboxes is a bad idea. Honestly I’m not a big fan of the randomization found in traditional MMO loot to begin with — I think character power should be earned through skill and dedication, not dumb luck — and adding real money to the equation really doesn’t endear me to the idea.

Gambling for cosmetics and fun stuff is one thing. Some may disagree, but I consider that fairly harmless. Gambling for things could actually give you an advantage in-game is taking exploitative psychology to another level.

A player party in The Secret World

Making sure that lockboxes never offer anything but cosmetics may not assuage everyone, but at least it keeps their worst potential at bay.

Make Them Social

As with many things, I think perhaps the best take on lockboxes to date came from the original incarnation of The Secret World. They obeyed many of the recommendations outlined above: All of the game’s many lockbox rewards were tradeable and cosmetic only, many boxes provided bad luck protection in the form of Lucky Coins, and most were earnable through gameplay.

But they also did one very clever thing that I can’t believe I haven’t seen elsewhere. In addition to the standard boxes that offered loot to a single player, in-game events also brought group boxes that granted loot not just to the person to open it but to a large number of players around them, as well. There were even achievements and special emotes for those who shared with enough other players.

When we talk about designing to encourage players to be more social, I’ve seen few things work better than these group loot boxes (often called party bags by players). Yes, there were people who just dumped their loot on random strangers in Agartha, but others used the bags as party favours at guild events, or organized scavenger hunts or other social gatherings.

My personal habit was to go to the starting zone, round up a bunch of newbies, and welcome them to the game with a burst of loot from the latest lockbox. Honestly some of my most positive MMO social experiences have been the result of those loot parties.

Lockboxes are often seen as something toxic or immoral, but I feel like that perception would change a lot if they were more often used as a tool to promote positive player interaction.


Healing the Rift Between Player and Developer

Lately the gaming world is abuzz over the brouhaha involving Guild Wars 2 writers Jessica Price and Peter Fries. There are a lot of opinions flying around on who is in the wrong here — personally I’m in the camp that says absolutely no one came out of this smelling like roses — and I’m not interested in rehashing the same arguments that have been swirling around in circles across the Internet.

A Norn thief in Guild Wars 2

But it does present an excellent opportunity to discuss a topic that was already on my mind: the often toxic relationship between gamers and developers. Regardless of whose side (if any) you take in the ArenaNet/Price debacle, I think we can agree this is a symptom of the adversarial attitude that has developed between the people who make MMOs and the people who play them.

It’s a bad situation, and it’s only getting worse.

The Cult of Personality

I think one of the core contributors to this climate of toxicity is the habit of gamers to build a cult of personality around a specific developer and subsequently lay every complaint they have on the shoulders of that one individual.

For example, for years World of Warcraft players demonized and lambasted Greg “Ghostcrawler” Street, blaming him for pretty much anything that went wrong with the game. He was painted as an ogre who had single-handedly driven the game into the ground.

Nowadays Ghostcrawler’s moved on, but WoW players are now giving the same treatment to Ion “Watcher” Hazzikostas, and I’ve seen similar things happen in other MMO communities. Inevitably one or two developers become the scapegoat for everything wrong in a game, and gamers start harassing or calling for the firing of that person.

But here’s the thing: Game design is collaborative. Most MMOs have dozens if not hundreds of people working on them, and major design decisions are almost never the work of a single individual. Ghostcrawler was never the main developer on WoW; he was just the most visible.

This is something that’s very important to keep in mind when criticizing game development. Demonizing an individual isn’t just mean-spirited; it’s factually incorrect and utterly pointless. Even if the person you blame for all your complaints was to be fired, it probably wouldn’t change anything.

A screenshot from Champions Online

One should always keep in mind that MMOs are built by teams, not individuals. When you realize that, it’s much easier to not make things personal.

Good Ol’ Fashioned Intolerance

For developers who don’t have the luck to be born a straight, white man, things take on a whole new color of ugliness. As incidents like GamerGate have shown us, female developers especially tend to walk around with a target on their back.

For the record, I believe Jessica Price was wrong to lash out as she did, but I also think much of the response to her words is at least as much an overreaction as her initial comments were, and it’s hard not to see this as a reflection on her gender. To be blunt, there are a lot of guys in the gaming community who have a problem with women voicing opinions.

There’s not much I can say here, because this is a complex subject best handled by people older and wiser than I, but I will say this: Try to imagine walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. If someone overreacts to a small provocation, maybe instead of writing them off as a jerk try to imagine what stresses and obstacles they’ve had to deal with to make them this defensive in the first place. Try to understand the greater cultural context that informs people’s actions, and have some empathy.

Provocation

In case it wasn’t clear by now, I feel that the unhealthy relationship between players and developers can largely be blamed on players, but if I’m going to be fair, I must acknowledge that developers are not always saints, either.

I’m not aware of many examples developers of being nakedly toxic or cruel to players — at least as far as mainstream, big name companies go — but that doesn’t mean they’re above making mistakes. It is fairly common for them to carry a certain air of condescension, to talk down to players or ignore our concerns altogether.

A screenshot from Skyforge

I don’t believe this in any way justifies the levels of harassment that developers are often subjected to, but if we’re examining the roots of the toxicity in the MMO community, I must acknowledge it plays a role.

Ideas, not Individuals

For all of the problems that there are in the relationship between players and developers, I do think the solution is relatively simple.

It’s not that we shouldn’t be able to offer criticisms when we’re unhappy with the games we play. Criticism is what drives an art form forward. But there’s a line between constructive criticism and just being an asshat, and you cross that line when you stop criticizing ideas and start criticizing the people behind them.

It’s perfectly okay to think that a developer has made a boneheaded decision, and to say so. It’s taking things too far when you start to call the developer themselves a bonehead. Even the smartest and most well-intentioned people can and do make mistakes. It is not helpful, productive, or moral to vilify an individual because they made a bad decision.

Back in the day, I strongly disagreed with many decisions made by Ghostcrawler, and his logic behind them, but I never let that affect my opinion of Greg Street the man. Indeed, I have always held the belief that he is an intelligent and largely well-intentioned person, and I think I would greatly enjoy sitting down to discuss game design with him for an hour or two.

This is the way forward. Criticize, yes, but don’t make it personal, don’t call for people to be fired, and most definitely do not harass.


F2P is Individualism; P2P is Collectivism

In a genre dominated as much by raiding as it is by grinding for that next level, these two revenue models invite two different styles of play. Plenty of discussion has transpired on which is best, with fair reasons on both sides. Genre fans have debated each model’s merits ad nauseam. What hasn’t been discussed is which revenue model fits which social theory best.

Until now. I’ll be arguing why free to play mirrors individualism and pay to play mirrors collectivism.

What a crazy topic you’re thinking. Social theory on my MMO Bro? This isn’t some Nick Yee gaming science website. Nope, but it’s fun to contemplate motivations and personalities on a deeper level than the game mechanics themselves. So let’s break down each argument separately.

individualism vs collectivism

F2P is Individualism

F2P players are more focused on themselves. They want the most optimal deal on the market. Good free to play MMO games offer fun growth opportunities for completely free players, small spenders, and whales without diminishing the fun of the other groups. However, their low barrier to entry invites very transitory individuals. Without a financial investment, friends will drop as frequently as a theme park roller coaster. Every social list is doomed to an inevitable field of grayed out, offline users. This is because once a free MMO loses it’s appeal to an individual, another substitute awaits.

Pay to win also appeals to the individual. A select few may extend beyond that but only just so. An example here would be ArcheAge, where it’s hard even with a deep wallet to drive the narrative by yourself. These create oligarchic scenarios with a few people at the top running the show. Whether paying to win creates a dictatorship or oligarchy of winning, the focus is still on the few. Luckily video games like these aren’t the real world (at least universally) so annoyed players are free to hop off the real world money death train and move on.

Whether it’s a fair free to play model or a pay to win model, the individualist social theory persists. F2P players find fun in games in and of themselves. This doesn’t mean they’re anti-social, hate cooperating, or won’t help others. This simply means the focus is first and foremost on themselves. They don’t derive as much satisfaction from accomplishing tasks as a group, but instead seek personal benefits for such activities. Further exemplifying this mindset is the heavier focusing on grinding in a free to play game. Grinding is a low level mental task based on repetition with a reward of powering up individuals.

F2P players are more focused on their own growth, choose themselves first over communities, and make independent decisions.

P2P is Collectivism

Ever heard of the sunk cost fallacy? The more you invest in something, the less likely you are to abandon it. Are you more likely to abandon a game you’ve spent $200 in game purchases and subscriptions fees or one you’ve invested no money? This forms a core foundation for pay to play MMOs as a collectivist draw.

Pay to play games want to reward players at the highest level for participating in group activities. Whether it’s raiding in World of Warcraft, conquering Nullsec in Eve Online, or performing trials in Elder Scrolls Online these require near equal participation from a dozen to several dozen individuals. The cooperation and skill requirements in these games exceed the mindless encounters of say, a world boss in Black Desert Online. This forces a reliance on other players to accomplish high end goals. Thus pride in one’s guild or corporation develops as a result of such accomplishments.

When someone ponies up for a monthly subscription, they’re typically eschewing other potential time competitors. This gives the community more chances to interact with one another, and thus enhance a game’s gravitational pull. The bonds and friendships that such games create can be difficult to break. Further, players aren’t looking to break these bonds. The friendships and communities that arise from P2P games are the point. MMORPGs aren’t known for award winning mechanics, but their ability to bind people together is unparalleled.

P2P players are more focused on community growth, choose community first over themselves, and make decisions with consideration of and from others.

In Between

Like every rule, exceptions exist. Guilds formed of F2P players jump from game to game like individuals, but their guild focus aligns closely with collectivism. Many individual players get into a game like World of Warcraft for the story, the exploration, or the single player questing. They don’t care one lick about group progression and will pick up group if and only if it’s needed to advance. Life is rarely so simple to completely equate one thing with another. That said, the link looks pretty strong here.

Where do you fall on the free to play vs. pay to play preference? Do you see yourself more as individualist or a collectivist?