Thoughts on In-Game Celebrations

My friend and fellow writer Aleks Krotoski has a nice piece in the Guardian about in-game celebrations.

She's an ex-pat, living the life in England, and as she says, virtual celebrations are a way for her to keep in touch with the American spirit. Her musings brought me back memories of what happened just after Sept. 11 -- and the state of games today

I was on a treadmill on Sept. 11, and like everyone else in the gym, my eyes were glued to the television screen. The first plane had already crashed into one of the towers -- and then, right before our eyes, the second plane crashed. My fellow reporters and I immediately hopped off the machines, showered, and bolted to work. My first few days were spent on the phone with people in the federal government, trying to write columns about how the architecture of the Internet allowed terrorists to easily hide their communications.

It was a miserable three days, maybe the worst I've had as a reporter. Soon enough, though, I moved back to my beat covering digital entertainment. It was then that I started getting messages about massive in-game vigils being held by players scattered around the world, who were abandoning their games for -- well, community time. Instead of slaying dragons or flying space ships, there were massive gatherings where people were just talking -- sharing stories, offering comfort, and connecting.

What struck me -- and I thought that I already knew this, but maybe I didn't know it as strongly as I know it now -- was that what was happening in the virtual worlds was exactly what was happening in my neighborhood. I'm a hermit, and generally avoid people as much as possible. But in the aftermath of Sept. 11, I found myself walking around Berkeley, talking to strangers, sharing a laugh, and connecting with people for reasons I can't begin to comprehend.

I never fully captured that spirit about games -- that for all their blustery sounds and graphics, what we love most about online worlds is that they give us a chance to interact with strangers, not just to go on adventures, but also to say hello. To announce that we exist. And to chat with old friends, virtual or otherwise.

Like the memories of Sept. 11, which fade through time, it's easy to forget that is what draws us to virtual worlds. That is their essense.

So, happy Fourth of July Aleks -- and all the rest of you who live digitally.