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What I Did On My Vacationby Karrin Jackson Not only did I take a hiatus recently from writing The Medium, I also took a break from MU*ing in general. Even diehard enthusiasts suffer burnout, and I took my own advice for when such a thing happens--step back, take a break, and come back when the hobby is enjoyable again. So that’s what I did, and after a few months' downtime, the urge to RP began to nag at me, and I crept back into online role-play. What I brought back from my vacation from MU* was a dash of perspective. Looking at the medium from the outside offers a view that one who is deep into it might not see. It has affected the way I look at online gaming, its players, and the community as a whole. Some of the observations aren't very flattering, but there are a few gems left in MU* to make it worthwhile. All of these observations are valuable, in my not so humble opinion, and so I'll share what I learned in my adventure out in the Real World. This Hobby Sucks Up a Lot of TimeOne of the most glaringly obvious revelations I had once I stepped away from the keyboard was that MU* demands a lot of time. After just one month off from gaming, I did something that, in ten years of being online, I had never before accomplished: I wrote a novel. Since this is my chosen vocation, this is a big deal. I realized that the time I spend MU*ing is time I could spend doing something that might actually make money someday. I thought about all the stories that could have been written that weren't because I was spending my free time arguing with idiots and watching game after beloved game crash and burn, collapsing under the weight of its own corruption. It wasn't a pleasant realization, but after another month or so there came a kinder perspective, that being that we choose the time we invest in MU*ing, and it can't eat any more of our time than we give to it. One can write a novel and game, but it requires knowing when to log out and get to work. The medium can't be blamed for one's personal lack of discipline. Upon returning to the community, I've decided that MU* will only get the hours I can spare, and that work comes first. That means less time online, but considering how the endless hours led up to burnout, that might not be a bad thing. It's startling how many games require a minimum number of hours logged in weekly to keep one's character--I never was comfortable with the idea of being forced to commit to anything that boils down to something I’m not getting paid for. What can I say? I'm not the commitment type (just don't tell my husband). The answer to this conundrum is easy: I'm not going to play anywhere that requires a time commitment, even if that commitment is a mere hour or two a week. It's the principle of the thing--my time belongs to me, and if anyone wants a piece of it, the bidding starts at minimum wage. We Take This Way Too SeriouslyThis ties in with the time commitments--the idea that we take this hobby way too seriously. I'm not going to go off on a rant about how it's just a game--we both know that’s not true. MU*ing is a hobby in which players invest a lot of time and emotion, and it's engaging enough to place it a few steps in the gaming hierarchy above, say, checkers. On the other hand, there is something to be said for stepping back and taking a walk rather than beating your head on the keyboard and weeping in frustration when the hobby takes a turn for the stupid. Which it does. We all have our war stories of OOC scandals of twinking and staff debauchery. It's all part of the gig, but that doesn’t mean it's worth losing sleep over. The next time I hear myself say I have to be online I'm going to smack myself with a 2x4 and go do something useful, because the fact is none of us have to do any of this. We choose to, and the obligations that get placed upon us are obligations we choose to accept. The obligations that others place upon us, however, are not our responsibility. Just recently, I was told by another player that they couldn't RP until my character logged in again. This wasn't a hung scene, mind you. It's just that the other character wanted to talk to mine and wasn't going to do anything else until that happened. In the past, I would have set aside time and other projects to accommodate this. These days, I say use your creativity and assume my character isn't available. I'm not going to play when I don't feel like playing, especially when I didn't do anything to cause the situation. It's a good hobby, but when it's all said and done, that's all it is. That doesn't mean it's trivial--everyone takes their hobbies seriously, whether it's MU*ing or pro football. However, it does mean that missing a scene isn't going to kill a MU*er anymore than a football fan missing the big game. Sure, it's disappointing, but it isn't the end of the world, and I think that a lot of MU*ers lose sight of that. Remember that the goal is to have fun, and when it stops being fun, you're doing it wrong. Relax. Breathe. Go do something that has nothing at all to do with gaming, and when you come back, the big crisis might not seem like such a big deal anymore. MU* is Not a Public ServiceOne of my caveats for returning to MU* was that I would not play on public games. By public games, I mean games where anyone can get a character, whether by requesting one or creating one at the login prompt. The reason I don't do public games right now (and possibly forevermore) is that they are cesspools of OOC melodrama. The idea of gaming as a social activity has been lost in MU*, replaced by the idea that games are a public service that owe anything to their players. There is an atmosphere of expectation and entitlement that just does not exist anywhere but in the minds of the people who cater to the ideal. I don't, so it doesn't make me a very good candidate for public gaming. Gone are the days when a staff member on a public game can kick a player off for bad behavior. Now there are systems in place that make the US Judicial System seem easy and balanced in order to determine whether or not the player in question really deserves to be disciplined. Call me a psychotic hosebeast if you will, but I say putting me in a position where I have to take time out of my day to deal with this kind of crap has already made enough trouble for me to shoo you away. Sure, that kind of thinking leads to staff corruption and bad feelings, but if you want to play on a good game, vote with your feet and get off the bad ones. Staying on a bad game and complaining about how rights you don't have are being violated has not, in the decade plus that I've been at this gig, ever solved a single problem without creating several more. It's not worth it. This time isn't going to be different. Log off and find a better game. Which is exactly what I've done. On my return to gaming, I discovered the hidden Utopia of the invite-only game. Sure, it's a small player base, players are responsible for most of their storytelling, and everyone is expected to behave like mature adults. I love it! There is a completely different atmosphere on invite-only games than what I found on public games. There is no sense of entitlement. It's clear from the moment your app is accepted that you are a guest. This means you're expected to behave like a guest, and failure to do so means you get shown the door. Since I have never been kicked off a game for being unable to behave like a rational adult, this isn't a problem for me. The staff is friendly on account of not being perpetually stressed out, the other players were also invited and so they meet the criteria for RP ability and mental stability that I had to, and it's a neat little corner of MU*dom guarded from the idiots and melodrama. The downside is that the invite-only game accommodates the experienced player without allowing any way for new players to break in without already knowing someone on the inside. For that, public games will always be the training ground for the uninitiated, a mixed blessing at best. Mind you, I'm not saying public games are evil and unredeemable--the prospect of meeting new players is one important example of their worth--but right now I just don't need the stress of everything else that comes with public gaming: the sense of entitlement and obligation, the bureaucracy, the stress and OOC drama. I would love to see these issues dealt with so that large games open to all players can be more enjoyable, but so far I haven’t seen any end in sight. It’s Still the Best Hobby Money Can’t BuyFor all its shortcomings, MU* is still one of the best creative outlets out there as far as hobbies go. The interactive aspect engages the mind and nurtures the imagination in ways that television and even books can't. The text-based medium challenges the intellect, and for those who meet the challenge at least adequately, there are entire worlds, histories, and lives created with little more than the written word. The social aspect makes it possible to share the experience of role-play from the safety and comfort of one's own home, and while tabletop gaming provides the social aspect as well, there is a chance to meet new people, with new things to offer, with which tabletop can’t compete. Sure there are jerks, but there are going to be those no matter where you go or what you do. There are also some amazing minds out there, and to be counted among them is, not to put too fine a point on it, pretty spiffy. Even the negative aspects of MU* aren’t enough to keep a jaded old dino like yours truly away. The time away has given me a sense of perspective to make those negative aspects not such a big deal, and what I did on my vacation was learn to appreciate the medium in ways I hadn't before, and I hope this will keep me gaming for years to come. [ #18: Everyone Sucks But Me —> ]
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