February 23, 2007
Where the Game Ends
Shortly before the launch of SWG, I was the director of information for a guild-to-be called the Consortium. We had one major competitor, Avian Technology And Trade (AT-AT). For some reason, they had no “avian.*” domain, but a couple were available. So I registered them, and placed indexes on the domains that directed the visitor to Avian’s real web site, with smaller links below encouraging the visitor to come take a look at the Consortium before committing to Avian.
The public outcry was almost immediate and overwhelmingly negative; the objection to this behavior was not so much what I did, as what I could have done. (Conspiracy theories abounded.) The Consortium rapidly disavowed any official support for this activity, rewrote the guild officer assignments to put website responsibility in someone else’s hands, and (while they never formally ousted me) dropped me from all internal communications.
After a few unproductive talks with other guild owners, I decided maybe I didn’t really want to play SWG anyway - I certainly wasn’t going to hold a position of importance within any guild.
The objection I heard most often was that I could have lied at these web sites and pretended to be the Avian web site. The most plausible such plot was that I might put up a site based on Avian’s real site, saying that Avian had merged with the Consortium and to go join the Consortium instead.
It is important to note that initially, we erected a site which offered better benefits to members than Avian offered. Avian altered their benefits page to argue that they really had better benefits. We altered our page to include a rebuttal of that argument. This was all well and good - two people going back and forth, no biggie.
Except that Avian recruited a graphic artist and web designer, who began investing several hours a day into their site’s interface. Their site rapidly began to look like something produced by a strong and well-funded startup. Ours looked like something produced by some guy in his basement, because that’s what it was.
I’m not a web designer. I’m a web developer. We had a great back end. Front end… not so much. So I took a developer’s path to combat this problem: I hooked their front end. When I first wanted to look at their site, I tried to go to avian.com, then avian.net, and finally avian.org before hitting a search engine to find them. I figured most people would do the same, so since the .net and .org were available, I went and registered them. Approximate cost: $10. Then I invested half an hour in hooking them up.
Now, where I don’t understand the problem is that fundamentally I just made an effort to achieve in-game advantage using real-world skills that aren’t possessed by most people, aren’t easily acquired by most people, and take significant time and effort to acquire. This is the same thing I saw happening with Avian - their designer has skills I don’t have, can’t easily acquire, and don’t have the time to acquire anyway. But there is one major difference.
I spent money.
That’s really what made the difference: I spent $10 to register domains. Avian had a volunteer invest hundreds of hours in professional work that would normally cost $40-60 per hour, but they did not actually spend any money.
This is basically where the game ends. As soon as you can gain an advantage over other players through some mechanism they cannot exercise equally, you’re not playing anymore. You’re cheating.
Filed under: Gaming, Philosophy, Software
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