Warcraft Diary: Presenting the World of Warcraft to Educators

A week ago I took some of the patter I've been developing about video games and put it to use, giving a presentation on MMORPGs to a group of students and others who've been meeting at the TC library to discuss technology and education. The group was pretty young -- almost all of them around my age, plus Gary, a very forward-thinking library staffer who is already talking about developing a "virtual space," meaning a PROJECTION virtual space, in the library -- so the talk was really pretty exciting for me, with attendees asking excellent questions.

Most of the audience members were exceedingly sharp about what would and would not be doable educationally within a game. We worried about the binary nature of games as evaluators of skill, about the division of labor between players and their avatars, and about the ways video games take people away from the rest of their lives. Most of them seemed ready to consider the potential of games developed by educators rather than using commercial games in class, which was helpful, as it took us away from reckoning with the problems with existing games.

A few attendees raised their hands to suggest possibilities for the game, some of which were really interesting. One guy wondered if you could use avatar customization to get kids to think about the ways they represent themselves as sexual or as members of a group through the ways they dress. Not sure if anyone's done that yet, but it sounded good to me.

I was running through the things I liked best -- the chat functions, the pets, the professions, emoting, the scenery. The audience was also curious about whether we could get the av naked, so I stripped her down to her leather bikini. (Its impracticality was duly ridiculed.) Then, as I went on to discuss something else, I was interrupted by my av's cries of terror and the enraged growls of some horrible thing attacking because I'd sat still, naked, in one place for too long. I had to hastily dress her back up and somehow managed to neglect her pants, so she ran around for the rest of the presentation bare-assed, only the red and gold tabard of the Learned Freethinkers providing any modesty. I found myself anxious to have her running around like that in public places; don't know if it's the harrassment I get in WoW, or living in New York, but being less than fully dressed definitely makes me nervous.

There was one woman sitting in the back, maybe a few years younger than my mom, who didn't say anything the entire time. I took this silence as skeptical until, after an hour and a half or more of presentation and questions, she raised her hand. "So, wait," she said. "Are you controlling all of the characters on the screen, or is the computer? Why is this called 'massively multiplayer'?"

I've got my crackpot theories why their generation doesn't get it, or frankly anyone who hasn't laid hands on a controller doesn't get it. You have to be pretty profoundly screen illiterate to not have any idea who the protagonist is in a video game. My guess is this illiteracy can be chalked up to an incorrect reading of camera conventions. In most video games, the camera follows your avatar as the central point of its focus. World of Warcraft and contemporary games make this more difficult by giving the player control of the camera. But most of us know this, lock on to the av the camera seems to be following most often, and continue to watch that character. We've done it since we were kiddos.

The room rushed to answer the woman's question. "Hold on," I said. "I'll demonstrate." I piloted Roz out of the door of the inn in Goldshire and found myself in a large group of highish-level players. They were role-playing in earnest. I gritted my teeth, knowing they were going to hate what I was about to do.

"So, if you guys were talking to a bunch of teachers and librarians about WoW," I typed to the public channel, "what would you tell them?"

"It pwnz" appeared in the first bubble over a player's head. Had to explain that one, for sure.

"That they wouldn't understand it," wrote another. Two more suggsted that the game was good for teaching. One said math. The other said history -- "of the Middle Aegis (sic)." I was hoping it was clear the computer wouldn't come up with anything like this to say; I think the woman who asked the question got it.

* * *

At one point a guy raised his hand and asked, "So what's the point of this game?" Feeling a little protective of the non-combat elements of this game which I cherish so much, and which I'd spent so much time explaining, I quipped, "Well, what do you want it to be?"

It's been my approach to the game so far. I'm there to dance, to explore, to joke around with my friends, and to collect animals and other cool-looking loot. But Roz is level 16 now -- still a good 24 levels away from getting the horse I want so badly. And in the face of the REAL goals of the game, the thrill of the little flourishes the gods have given us is wearing thin.

Every time I log on I'm grinding, killing six crocolisks for their eyeballs or twelve rabid thistle bears for their rotting carcasses or twenty-four wailing Highborn for their ephemeral essences. Then I run to the questgiver, only to be given another quest. No questgiver ever says "Great job, why don't you go to Astranaar and enjoy the scenery for a while?" or "I like a gal who can take out sixty fleshrippers at a go. Care to join me for a swim? I know this waterfall that's off the beaten path..." It feels like fuckin' work, with no vacation! I keep expecting them to hand me a pile of textbooks and tell me to write 163 multiple choice questions. I begin to wonder whether I misrepresented the game in my presentation.

The divide between the things we do in-game for ourselves and the things we do in-game to progress in the game is pretty firm. And when my friends aren't on, I don't enjoy it much. Questing with Bill, Jess, and Chris is fun, but when you hook up with some random long-haired musclebound warrior dude there's a good chance he'll try to clumsily woo you between missions, and that's no fun. (Perhaps I should try only grouping with gnomes. Better people gravitate towards gnomehood, I find.)

* * *

Speaking of classes, being a human female has begun to feel almost intolerable. Roz's whiny voice is so ungodly grating that I swear I'm about to delete her ass. "Not enough energy," she mopes. "I don't have a target," she jeers. "Inventory is full!" OMG. "Attack!" sounds like she's telling off a cheating boyfriend. She makes me wish I was an effing dwarf. Posted my first comment to the suggestions forum today as a result -- I'd love to see a choice of voice sets, like there is in Neverwinter Nights.

Furious with my snivelling rogue, I fled to another server to begin life anew last night. I now have a tauren female on Terenas. Lowren is her name. She's red spotted, with black hair. A bay pinto. We've been enjoying the placid fields of her mesa, and the early levels of being a huntress. She's got a kind of Eeyorish voice, which may irritate me later, but is a welcome relief for now.

It seems very quiet on Terenas. I only know two people there, and they're not on often. I definitely wasn't looking to get away from people I know -- like I said, it's not fun playing without them -- but the solitude has definitely made Lowren a very different person. While Gunhild and Rozalind are the spoiled babies of the guild, showered with presents and gold, Lowren is an orphan. I have to gauge whether to spend my coppers on boots OR pants, rather than buying everything I need without regard to expense. If you'd like to join her there, it'll be us against the elements.

Posted by Gus at August 23, 2005 09:12 PM