Sky: Children of the Light

thatgamecompany is known for making computer games for people who wouldn’t otherwise be interested in computer games. Sky: Children of the Light is their attempt at making a MMO (Massive Multiplayer Online) game for people who would otherwise not be interested in MMOs. In my opinion, they did not succeed; if you’re not already a gamer with some experience and/or aren’t willing to face some bitter disappointments, you’ll find Sky a difficult game.

The rest of this review contains spoilers, so: SPOILER ALERT! Since the game is meant to be played over and over again, at most I’m only going to spoil the experience of the first run-through. Or maybe I’ll spoil the game by giving a critical review to what is may be a delightful MMO if I got over my own limitations. Once again: SPOILER ALERT!


In the first thatgamecompany game I played, Flower, you play a breeze guiding a flower petal to gather more flower petals. It was delightfully non-competitive. You could revel in the beauty of the environment, blowing past flowers to make them bloom and collect their petals. For the most part, you were playing with the game and not against it.

Their follow-up game, Journey, had you making an epic journey through several worlds to get to a light on a distant mountain. It introduced player interaction: In the second world, you met another player who could accompany you on the trip. You could only communicate through simple beeps. Your behavior options were limited: you could help the other person progress, or you could ignore them and proceed solo. There were hazards to avoid in a couple of the worlds, but the worst that could happen is that you’d lose the ability to fly somewhat and you wouldn’t be able to get some of the achievements.

When you complete Journey, you can play the game again. The incentive (apart from achievements) is that each time you’d meet someone else. Their behaviors could make each run-through different: Would they help you? Could you help them? Would they go off to journey solo? It didn’t matter that much from a game-play perspective, since the game didn’t require much skill to give a sense of satisfaction and completion. There was a zen-like quality to the worlds and the journey that made replays rewarding even if you didn’t meet anyone else.

Sky is similar to Journey: You travel from world to world, heading towards a light in a distant mountain. Your key mode of transportation is based on your cape; as you travel, you collect items (in Sky these are the Children of the Light) to improve your cape and let you fly longer. The design of the worlds in Sky is very similar to the worlds of Journey: the desert world; the skiing world; the world where monsters attack you; the world of the tower; the struggle to reach the summit of the mountain.

Children of the Light

The differences between Sky and Journey begin with your cape. In Journey the cape was useful but not required; in Sky it’s almost essential. Therefore visiting the Children and collecting their Light is a key component of the game. You can’t even visit the final world in Sky without collecting at least 20 of them, and if you consult the hint guides they suggest collecting at least 40 or more because of the difficulty of that level. My own experience is that you’d want at least 50.

Collecting all that Light is important. As you might guess, some of the Children are easy to find. Some are in locations so obscure that even with a hint guide you might not be able to find them. And some are in locations that are difficult to reach unless you have very precise control of your character.

In Journey, controlling your avatar wasn’t difficult. In Sky, the difficulty of controlling your avatar is a complex function of environment, world, cape energy, and whether you’ve just been slammed by a creature (more on that below).

More than once I’ve tried to do some precision flying in an environment and just clip some surface. The avatar starts ping-ponging all over the place, zooming uncontrollably, only able to turn slowly. If you were in the room at the time, you’d hear me screaming at my iPhone: “Why are you going over there? I didn’t tell you go there! Why aren’t you turning when I’m telling you to turn? Go up! I’m pushing the up button! Why aren’t you going up? Why are you flying when I’m telling you to jump? Why are you jumping when I’m telling you to fly?”

It makes me glad my cat is almost deaf.

As you might have figured out from the paragraph above, right now Sky is only available for iOS, on iPhones and iPads. When iOS 13 is released later this year, it will be possible to use a PS4 controller with iOS games. Perhaps then I won’t experience the frustration of trying to do precision movements on a touchscreen.

Hostile environments

As I said above, Journey had creatures that could damage your flying cape, but that wasn’t important to the overall trip. Sky also has creatures that can attack you and steal your Light, and gathering Light is basically the goal of the game. If your avatar loses Light and therefore flying power, you might have to start the game again from the first world.

Unlike Journey, in Sky these creatures are in dark environments where the screen contrast is very poor, even when when I crank my iPhone’s contrast to maximum. It can be hard to see the creatures, places you can hide, even exits from the area you’re in. There are worlds where standing in water drains your Light away.

Once, I was knocked by a creature into a dark area, my flying gone. The pit was filled with water, surrounded by blobs of blackness. I watched my Light disappear. I didn’t know what to do. (There’s a Sky equivalent of a Hearthstone in World of Warcraft, but I didn’t know about that option at the time.) I splashed around desperately, but there was no escape. Finally my avatar “died.” I found myself in another world of darkness, though with stars in the night sky at least, until I finally figured out the direction I was supposed to go.

If you play a game like Dark Souls, this sort of thing is par for the course. It certainly doesn’t match the zen-like joy of Journey or Flower. It’s as if thatgamecompany was trying to appeal to both hard-core gamers and the audience for their other games.

Other players

In Journey, you could meet with at most one other player in a given world. In Sky, when you enter an area there can be up to five players initially, and up to eight total (there’s a way to teleport to the location of one of your friends).

In the first couple of minutes of Sky, you’re limited to the same level of communication with your fellow players as in Journey: beeps and sitting down. That rapidly expands as you encounter Spirits, also known as Emotes for their basic reward. A Spirit takes you on a small trip across the landscape, with varying degrees of difficulty depending on the world. At the end of the trip you receive a new gesture, pose, or sound effect for your avatar.

There are something like 36 Emotes in the game, so potentially you have access to a wide range of expressions. Often you’ll see a group of players standing around in a common area showing off the Emotes they’ve acquired to each other. This sort of “playing around” is certainly not possible in Journey!

For more direct communication, there are chat benches in all the vendor areas of the game and scattered throughout the rest of the worlds. If two players sit on the same bench, they can type text messages to one another.

Another annoyance: The “microphone” key is not available on Sky‘s keyboard, so you can’t use the iPhone’s dictation feature.

For my part, I only found someone willing to sit on the bench with me twice. The first time they typed in Japanese. I tried to apologize for not understanding them, but they promptly left. The second time I was seeking help to get through one of the monster-laden worlds; the other player expressed ignorance and left before I could say more.

The next level of social interaction is to become Friends with another player. This costs a Candle (more on currency below). This allows you to assign a name to that player. For the few couple of Friends I took the time to compose names for them. After that I just hit “Randomize” for a quick name, so most of my Friends have names like Ewotuka, Acoc, Oyes, and Isefa.

The game is easier when you travel with other players. When you’re close to another avatar, the cape energy passively regenerates. When you’re Friends with another player, you have the option for one of you to hold the other avatar’s hand and lead them, guaranteeing the energy regeneration. You can even form chains of up to eight avatars, each one clasping the hand of the next one. There are Children of the Light that are almost impossible to reach unless someone else is there to help you regenerate.

You can see an example of this in the (spoiler-laden) videos available in the Sky wiki: In those videos, the player forms her own chain by playing Sky with four devices at once, regenerating cape energy rapidly.

All of this sounds wonderful, but there’s a communications gap: Without text and with the range of Emotes available, you can’t tell if someone wants to accomplish a game task or just wants to play around.

Here’s an example: Someone offered to become Friends with me. I accepted. They offered to clasp my avatar’s hand, and again I accepted. They promptly dragged me into the initial area of the most monster-laden world. Then they go of my hand. I interpreted this as they were asking for a guide to get through it. I knew something about the region. As I alluded above, I’m crappy at dodging the monsters and precision flying so I couldn’t give them a complete tour, but I could offer something. I offered my hand, they accepted, and I took them deeper into the world.

It wasn’t until we were deep into that world that it became clear that the other player wasn’t looking for a guide, they had been looking to play with Emotes or something and had picked the most dangerous world at random. In a dark area, they activated a spell that made their avatar glow. This is a purely cosmetic effect; it does not illuminate your surroundings in any way. But in a dark zone, it made my iPhone’s screen wash out with the bright glow. I could no longer see the dark terrain and the dark exit to get out of the dark zone. There was only the glow of my companion.

I didn’t want to abandon them in a zone they didn’t understand, but I was stuck fumbling around blind. I tried to initiate a text communication with them, but they refused. (I later learned that Japanese speakers are often embarrassed that they can’t communicate with English speakers.) I continued to try to find a way out, but finally we met up with someone else who knew what they were doing and I joined them, leaving my first companion behind.

That’s just one incident, and I’ve experienced others. The bottom line is that there’s no way to express ideas like “Please, I need some help” or “Please, let me help you” or “I just want to dance” directly. You only have guesses based on behavior. In the incident I described above, I tried to be helpful only to come across as rude in the end.

Of course there are ways around this, but they’re the standard MMO tricks. In this spoiler-laden video (, recorded just last night as I type this) you can see a Sky expert coordinating with her friends using some communications program; I can’t tell if it’s Twitch, Discord, or something else.

Eventually this will all shake down. Some standards will emerge and communities will form. Perhaps there will be default communication channels for each language. Something like this happened with World of Warcraft, except that WoW provided open text communication from the beginning, and servers were already segregated by geographic region. Maybe a sort of pidgin will evolve based on the available emotes.

This is far from the contemplative joy and basic companionship in Journey.


There are five currencies in Sky: Candles, Hearts, Ascended Candles, Seasonal Tokens, and Seasonal Candles. The last two are for cosmetic improvements only, so I’m not going to discuss them further.

Candles are the basic currency. Once you’ve interacted with an Emote and gained a new expression, that Emote becomes a vendor in a world’s social area. Candles will let you purchase some upgrades for your avatar.

Candles are also the basis for social interactions between avatars. When you make an offer to become someone’s Friend, the cost is one Candle. To upgrade interactions with that Friend costs more Candles. To be able to text-chat with that Friend costs yet more candles.

Candles can be forged by collecting wax from other candles in the environment (something I do in real life) and from other sources. It’s possible to spend time in the game each day grinding for wax. According to one of the videos I linked above, you’d get about 15 Candles for two hours of work each day.

Here’s where the real-world money comes in the free-to-play app: You can also pay for Candles. For example, for $20 you can get 60 Candles (actually, it’s presently 72 for $20 as a new-game promotion). That lets you make Friends freely and purchase quite a few minor improvements for your character.

You may ask, given that my critical review of the game thus far, did I resist paying for Candles? I’ve already confessed that I’m a former WoW pet collector, so you can guess the answer.

If you want serious cosmetic improvements to your avatar (hairstyles, masks, trousers, capes), you have to move to the next level of currency: Hearts. These costume items have no effect on the game. They’re a digital good, like WoW pets, that solely affect the appearance of your character. The cost of new trousers might be 5 Hearts; the price for a really nifty cape might be 30 Hearts.

Hearts can’t be directly purchased through real-world cash. You can purchase them from the Emotes/vendors at a price of three Candles for one Heart… once for each vendor. Since not every vendor sells a Heart, you might get 35 Hearts this way (at a total cost of 105 Candles, which takes us back to spending real-world money for Candles).

You can also get Hearts from Friends. If you send a Friend a bundle of three Candles, they’ll receive a Heart. So the way to get Hearts is to give them. You send Hearts to your Friends and hope they’ll reciprocate. Of course, there’s no guarantee that this “investment” of Candles will pay back in Hearts, especially if you haven’t paid Candles to initiate a text chat with that Friend to arrange any deals. You send out bundles of Candles and hope for the best.

This leads to another my criticisms of Sky, in the choice of their iconography. Suppose a newcomer to the game meets me. I could use someone else when visiting a difficult world, so I offer to be Friends with them. They accept, we travel around, I show them where some hidden Lights are. Later, I send them a Heart to see if we can work out an exchange.

Is this how they perceive it? There’s nothing obvious in the game about the informal Heart economy. You can read about it in fan-based web pages (that’s how I learned it) and it may be implied in the optional game tutorials (I haven’t checked).

In other words, a newcomer adventures with a stranger for a brief while and later they get a Heart from them. It might be perceived as a creepy gesture. I wish the Heart wasn’t a “heart” but some other icon without the same connotations.

That leaves Ascended Candles. They are a reward for going through the final world successfully; if you recall above, that’s the one that requires at least 20 Light to enter. The more Light you enter that zone with, the greater the potential reward… if you can manage a challenging environment.

The Ascended Candles can be used to purchase “permanent” cape upgrades from the Emotes/vendors; most vendors offer one such upgrade and a couple offer two. Each upgrade means that when you start the game again, your cape starts out with additional Light. Overall, this gives Sky some of the visceral feel of Diablo: You go through the same adventure each time, but you get a bit more powerful and maybe you can handle some tougher challenges.

Ascended Candles can also unlock the most potent Friend option: To be able to Warp to a Friend’s location within the same game world. Since Ascended Candles are so hard to get, I’d only use this option on someone I really, really trusted.

Unskippable Cutscenes

I wanted to mention the unskippable cutscenes in this review. Have I talked about the unskippable cutscenes yet? There are unskippable cutscenes. They’re annoying after the first playthrough, especially if you’re in the middle of a complicated maneuver that gets interrupted by an unskippable cutscene. There are skippable cutscenes, but not enough compared to the unskippable cutscenes. If you think this paragraph is wordy and annoying, just wait until you have to deal with the unskippable cutscenes.


I investigated Sky because a friend of mine was a big fan of Flower and Journey. They were looking forward to another game from thatgamecompany that echoed the meditative qualities of those two. I offered to test the waters for them and walk them through Sky when they were ready, as I had when I introduced them to Journey.

Sky: Children of the Light is not the game I think they were expecting. When my friend finally has the chance to sit down and play the game with me, I think they will be disappointed. It’s not likely that they’ll read this review (my blog is so obscure that not even my good friends read it), but I’ll keep the critical tone out of my voice and let them make their own judgements.

I’m neutral on the monetization of the game. You can play Sky without spending a dime. You can forge your way through the game solo, get the 20 Light to be pounded in the final zone, emerge to see the game’s ending, then never play again; I think you’d have more fun doing basically the same thing in Journey. You can also make Friends and gain Hearts by grinding for Candle wax, but you’ll spend time instead of money.

I think my WoW friends would perceive Sky as a very light MMO. I can easily see some of them playing Sky with one hand as they tank Ragnaros with the other… if they cared to play Sky at all. There’s definitely a market for people who like light MMOs; Second Life is one example. But I believe there’s more to do in Second Life than there is to do in Sky.

Sky is too much of an MMO to be like Flower and Journey. I’m turned off by its occasionally frustrating controls, difficult environments, and player communication issues. I hoped for better from thatgamecompany.

Final Fantasy X

Disclaimer: I did not play this game to the end, for reasons discussed below. This review is based on what I experienced until I decided to quit playing it.

A few months ago, I posted my review of Final Fantasy XV. I was still looking for something to occupy my time during my convalescence. A friend of mine recommended Final Fantasy X on the basis of its story. I’ll start with my immediate impressions.

It must be said: This is a clunky game. It’s a port of a game published in 2001 to modern gaming systems. It was strange to play a game for which the right knob on my PS4 controller did almost nothing at all. There’s no way to change camera angles; you take the view the game gives you. Switching between targets during combat is not intuitive.

Since it is an old game, I’m willing to let that slide.

In my FFXV review, I made a big deal about the blatant sexism of the character of Cindy. In FFX many of the female characters show a lot of skin, but so do the male characters so I’ll let that part slide as well.

However, I’m not going to give a pass to the character of Lulu. She’s modestly dressed compared to most of the other female characters, except for exposed cleavage. The issue I have is the game’s focus on that cleavage: many of the cutscenes have the camera pointed at Lulu’s chest, cropping out her face; Lulu’s “victory dance” at the end of combat has her flaunting her cleavage at the camera.

Lulu is a popular subject for fan costuming, so I may be overreacting; if female fans have no problem with Lulu, I probably shouldn’t either. Still, it bothered me that one of the most powerful characters in the game is presented as a subject for adolescent ogling.

An observation instead of a criticism: I was startled to see how many of the game elements of FFXV were also present in FFX: chocobos; potions names and effects; victory music at the end of combat. It made it clear that the Final Fantasy series has traditions of its own.

Let’s get to the game itself. You get to choose your viewpoint character’s name; the default is “Tidus” but I picked “Artax” (which in retrospect was a mistake). Tidus is a successful Blitzball player in the city of Zanarkand. After a confusing introduction that reminded me a bit of Kingdom Hearts 1 & 2, you find yourself 1000 years in the future. Through a few info dumps, you learn that you’re part of a team of characters whose goal is to defeat the monstrous creature Sin.

There are open-world elements to FFX, but basically it’s a linear story from your arrival in the land of Spira to the final confrontation with Sin. As you engage in combats you gain skills and stats, as is typical games of this genre.

This leads to my first frustration with the game: the Sphere Grid. Instead of the standard skill trees in similar games, the abilities and improvements for your character are unlocked by navigating a visually confusing circular display. As you win combats, you gain different kinds of spheres. You navigate between nodes on this display by gaining “sphere levels”; you activate the nodes by using special spheres dropped by most of the monsters you fight.

Here’s a much better explanation of the system:

Even after I understood how to use the Sphere Grid, I had two problems with it. The first is that it was all too easy to “lose your way” among the concentric circles. This cause me to waste sphere levels as I tried to navigate a character’s location on the grid, only to find out that I headed in the wrong direction.

The second problem is that sections of the sphere grid, with more powerful abilities or opportunities to navigate to other characters’ skill sets, are blocked off by “key spheres”. These are extremely rare and do not drop randomly. By the time I stopped playing FFX, I had activated all the characters’ spheres within their areas of the sphere grid. Without the necessary key spheres, I could not improve them further (not even basic stats like hit points). I accumulated sphere levels with no way to spend them.

Another issue I had with FFX was with the difficulty of the late-game boss combat. I played the game in Easy mode (as always), but there are increasingly more combats as you continue with the game that, realistically, can only be won by consulting a hint guide or by failing a lot until you learn the appropriate strategy.

The latter sounds acceptable; after all, someone must have done this before writing a hint guide in the first place. The problem is that the game punishes failure. If you lose a combat, the game is over. You can always restore to the last save point, and there are save points before every major boss combat. But restoring a game forces you to watch a three-minute unskippable cinematic before you can play again.

This means that, without a hint guide, late-game combat becomes “glasschewing”: You lose, spend minutes restoring the game state, fight the boss to the same point as before (which can take several minutes on its own), only to wipe again if you miss some important strategic concept for that battle.

When you reach a stage where only a hint guide can move you forward, you’re not really playing the game anymore; the hint guide is. That’s when I lose interest. Now that I think of it, that’s when I stopped playing FFXV, when I could only progress using hint guides.

But in FFXV, the Uncharted series, the Tomb Raider series, Horizon: Zero Dawn, even God of War, I didn’t need a hint guide to get to the end of the story. I only needed guides for the optional content, though I may not have realized it at the time. FFX required me to have hints to get to the end of the game’s story.

What of that story? My friend was right to say that FFX’s story is better than FFXV’s, without question. The problem is that while the story is better, the writing is awful. In the cutscenes, characters say the same thing over and over again, they repeatedly state plot points that are painfully obvious even to players unfamiliar to any of the conventions of the fantasy genre, and they whine incessantly and repeatedly about the same issues. I’ll give the game credit: both the male and female characters do the same amount of whining.

Perhaps this dialog sounds better in the original Japanese. Or perhaps it’s pitched to a very young audience. I discount the latter, because of the difficulty of the late-state combat and confusion of the Sphere Grid; I don’t think six-year-olds could deal with those game elements.

Or perhaps I’m underestimating six-year-olds. It would not be the first time!

Final (fantasy) verdict: Final Fantasy X served its purpose, to occupy my time during long stretches when I couldn’t move from my easy chair. At $15, it was priced reasonably for a time-waster. But I can’t give the game an enthusiastic recommendation.

Sometime in the next several months Square Enix will release a remake of Final Fantasy VII. Hopefully by then I won’t need time-wasters. Unless the reviews are glowing beyond measure, I don’t plan to visit the Final Fantasy series again.

Farewell to Azeroth

I’m leaving World of Warcraft.

I played the game from before the beginning, during its beta test prior to the game’s formal release in November 2004. After putting time and energy and money into the game for 15 years, I feel like some nostalgia and introspection; hence this blog post.

World of Warcraft (WoW) is part of a thread of my life that started in the 70s, when I began to play tabletop role-playing games. I played D&D at first, then expanded to my own system (Argothald, of course). I enjoyed these and similar games until about 1990, when the increasing distance between myself and my fellow players made the face-to-face tabletop experience no longer practical.

I missed the social interaction and shared storytelling of role-playing games. I found a substitute through a recruitment drive at a science-fiction convention: LARPing (live-action role-playing). I played in LAIRE from 1991 to 1996, and Mystic Realms from 1997 to 2003. That ended for a variety of reasons, but to discuss them all would require another series of posts similar to the ones I wrote about why I stopped working at the Ren Faire.

Once again, I felt the loss of the friendships and joy of role-playing. And again, I found a substitute: At the tail end of my experience with Mystic Realms, a group of those players got together to play World of Warcraft. We picked the role-playing server Earthen Ring; our guild was the Explorers of Evermoore.

In those early days, role-playing was as important as playing the game content. Our little community of friends, friends of friends, acquaintances, and acquaintances of acquaintances grouped together as informal group called the Toadpunchers. We once crashed the Earthen Ring server when we held a virtual clambake by shores of Auberdine; the designers of World of Warcraft never anticipated that so many characters would be in one place at the same time.

A brief explanation in case you’re not familiar with MMOs (Massive Multiplayer Online games): What I describe in the previous paragraph is “player-created content” and not meant to be the focus of the game. In WoW, characters advance in the game by killing monsters, fulfilling quests, and visiting locations. There are different aspects to this: PvE (player vs environment), which you can play on your own; dungeons, in which five players group together to face tougher challenges; raids, in which up to 40 players group to face the toughest environments; PvP, in which players advance by battling each other.

Raiding is considered the ultimate goal by most MMO players; you get to have the fun of playing the game in the company of other people. However, you can’t just create a character and start raiding. You have to advance your character to a certain point before first dungeon and later raiding opportunities become available. In the early days of WoW, this took many weeks even if you dedicated yourself 24/7 to the task.

Back in 2005, I enjoyed playing many different charactersin WoW. Each race had a different starting locations and there are characters classes with their own abilities. I created as many characters as the game permitted on the Earthen Ring server: Winston the Warlock, Theadora the Druid, Vasili the Priest, Pellinore the Paladin, Grotar the Warrior, Swiftslice the Rogue, Diddleswythe the Mage, Durumi the Shaman, Usda the Hunter. I explored the different areas of the game and learned each classes’ abilities.

All fine and good. But my fellow Explorers of Evermoore focused on perhaps one or two characters, instead of distributing their time across eight. As a result, they got to the point where they could begin raiding while I still had months to go. After a year, I finally got there and could start raiding with them, but I was way behind in knowledge and experience in raiding. I made novice mistakes in the raid encounters and violated what I later learned was basic etiquette in claiming the valuable magic items left behind when powerful monsters were defeated. This did not make me a welcome presence on their raids.

About two years later, World of Warcraft had its first major expansion: The Burning Legion. I enjoyed exploring the new territories and watching a new story unfold, but I’m going to continue to focus on the social aspect of the game.

In those two years some things had changed in my WoW community. Members of the Explorers of Evermoore were gradually leaving the game. People I knew by name and face were replaced by players I only knew through their on-line IDs. The Toadpunchers, instead of being an organizing force behind social events and raids, became folded into a different broad coalition of guilds, the Wildly Inept Raiders.

(My memory is a bit fuzzy here and I may be getting things wrong; the message boards that were used to organize all of this no longer exist.)

The role-playing aspect of WoW was fading away. Earthen Ring was designated by Blizzard to be a role-playing server. This means that players on the server were expected to contribute to an immersive story environment. In the early days of WoW, a character name like “Horneeduudx” might be cause for a formal complaint to one of the Blizzard’s gamesmasters on an RP server, while on other types of servers no one would care. Over time, as the general WoW player base became more focused on raiding and other game mechanics, less attention was paid to RP events. I saw no more invitations to clambakes. Blizzard gradually stopped enforcing the RP standards, and Earthen Ring began to fill up with Horneeduudxs.

In the absence of role-playing opportunities in WoW, I concentrated on leveling up a single character: Winston. I was still further behind in advancing my character than most of the folks I knew, but I got to the point where I could participate in raids in only months instead of a year.

But the raids had changed as well. Above, I said that up to 40 people could participate in a raid. That was true when WoW was first released, but in The Burning Legion that limit was reduced to 20. This revealed a problem: in the 40-person raids, my poor raid performance wasn’t an issue; I was one among many. In a 20-person raid, my character was putting out low enough damage that it was noticeable.

I did what I could. It was roughly around that time that the first tools became available for players to monitor their character’s performance. I stood on a hilltop where a powerful monster couldn’t reach me and practiced casting Winston’s spells to get my damage output to an acceptable range. I wish I could say it was time well-spent.

There was also the time factor: The raid encounters are difficult. All 20 people have learn the “beats” and transitions of each one. It’s typical for a party of 20 try to defeat a monster, fail, get wiped out, resurrect, and try the encounter again, repeatedly, for weeks, divided into hours-long gaming sessions. This is called “glasschewing,” because of what it feels like as you strain for that feeling of accomplishment.

The high-end raiding guilds might do this 5-7 nights a week. The Wildly Inept Raiders did this three times a week. I was comfortable with glasschewing once a week. WIR reorganized its raiding structure to separate those who attend 2-3 times a week from those who could attend less frequently; the latter could run once every two weeks.

I had problems learning the encounters when I only saw them once every two to four weeks. The other raiders weren’t enthusiastic about a clumsy and underperforming raider.

To make it clear: There were other things to do in WoW apart from raiding. For example, the Burning Legion introduced flying mounts. There were a wide variety of mounts available. Many of them cost large amounts of in-game currency or required weeks of earning reputation with in-game factions to purchase. I also worked on leveling up other characters after I got Winston to raiding level, just to see what it was like to play those characters. But collecting and leveling are typically solo activities.

Two years later, the Wrath of the Lich King expansion was released. I didn’t bother to ask to join any raiding groups. If I participated in a raid, it was a pick-up: “We need one more to go into Ulduar. Anyone wanna join?”

By this time, Wildly Inept Raiders had become Deadly Cupcakes. You can infer from this that at least my WoW community doesn’t take itself too seriously.

Wrath of the Lich King was the last WoW expansion whose story I enjoyed. It was the culmination of a tale that began before WoW did, in the Blizzard game Warcraft 3. It was in this expansion that I discovered the joys of mount collecting.

A word of explanation:

From the beginning, WoW characters have had the option of companion pets. They do nothing significant. They show up on players’ screens, perhaps with cute animations. You look at them. That’s it.

Characters can also gain mounts that speed up their travel and, with the second expansion, allow them to fly. One mount is as good as another; in terms of travel time you can get there just as fast on a simple brown horse as you can on a tiger. (This wasn’t always true, but has been for the past several years.) The difference between mounts is purely cosmetic.

Collecting pets and mounts serves no game purpose. It’s a self-imposed task to collect digital items that have no intrinsic value.

In this expansion, I noticed that, among WoW’s many game achievements, you could earn an extra mount if you acquired 150 of them. I already had 100 or so from previous expansions, so I worked on getting 50 more. After all, by that point in the game I didn’t have much else to do. I collected the quota, saw that there was another award if I collected 250 mounts… and stopped. (I must have casually picked up more mounts as I continued to play game through now, because at present my character has 260 mounts.)

Then the unexpected: I was invited by someone I only know as Snique to accompany his guild, Friends and Lovers, as they glasschewed on the Icecrown Citadel raid. This was the final raid of the Lich King expansion, the end of the story I mentioned above. I wanted to see it, and I accepted his offer.

I knew he wasn’t looking for high raid performance (to be sure, he got none from me!). He was looking to fill a slot in his roster. Nevertheless, I cooperated as best I could. I regeared, respecced, rehearsed. Finally, after some weeks of effort, we saw Arthas fall. Thanks, Snique!

The next World of Warcraft expansion was called Cataclysm. For me, it was meh. Snique offered to have me continue to raid with the Friends and Lovers guild, but though I was grateful to him I just wasn’t motivated to go raiding in expansion 4; the story didn’t interest me, and while I carved out time to raid in this special case, I couldn’t keep it up indefinitely.

I didn’t go into any dungeons or raids at all in Cataclysm. I leveled up characters, explored new or updated regions, and so on. Nothing really stands out in my memory of the expansion.

In 2012 WoW released Mists of Pandaria. The story was a bit more interesting, and there was enough that seemed new and fresh to engage my interest. The expansion included a new race and I started a new character, Yungi.

Still no dungeons or raids, until…

With this expansion, World of Warcraft introduced pet battles. Those cosmetic pets still didn’t help you defeat monsters or accomplish quests, but you could collect them and have them fight each other. It’s Pokemon.

Part-way into the expansion, Blizzard introduced the Celestial Tournament, an epic-level pet-battle challenge that required players to have a wide collection of powerful pets to succeed. By that point in the expansion, I had run out of things to do so I decided to collect more pets and go for the epic achievement.

In three weeks I had built up a collection from a bunch of level 1 do-nothings to enough level 25 specialty pets to defeat the Celestial Tournament.

I had been bitten by the bug. I wanted to collect more pets, I wanted to level them all to maximum, and I wanted all of them to be of Rare quality. The chief motivator was the ranking on, a web site that tracks the relative quality of WoW players’ pet collections. As I improved my collection, I gradually moved up in the ranks.

It turned out that there other members of Deadly Cupcakes who were into collecting pets. In particular, I was aided, abetted, and possibly enabled by Andius, whose skill as a WoW player and collector is far greater than mine. Thanks!

I finally raided again, using LFR (“Looking for Raid”), an organizational tool that Blizzard introduced for folks like me who were not part of organized glasschewing raid groups. Both the game challenges and rewards from these raids were less than normal; they existed solely so that people could see what they looked like. I raided for just one reason: there were some pets that could only be acquired by accomplishing tasks on raids. It was not always pleasant; the players had a random assortment of gaming and social skills, and I experienced some antisemitism.

By the end of the fifth expansion, my pet collection was in the top 10 on warcraft pets.

The sixth expansion was Warlords of Draenor… but I didn’t care much. The expansion was almost a background to me. What mattered was that a year after its release, I was the number one pet collector on Earthen Ring.

It was the worst thing that could have happened (provided you think that playing WoW is of some importance).

By now you’ve seen the problem: There was only one reason I was playing WoW, to get and keep that rating. Was it an addiction? I don’t think so. It wasn’t progressive, I wasn’t hurting myself or others, any money I spent was well within my limits of disposable income (I could have spent $1000 to get another pet or two, but resisted the mild temptation).

The seventh expansion was the Burning Legion. There I met a serious pet-collecting challenge, namely challengers. I was the number one pet collector on Earthen Ring, but there are plenty of other WoW servers out there, with even more dedicated pet collectors than I am. A couple of people, with an even stronger desire to be #1 than mine, transferred their characters to Earthen Ring to be #1 in the rankings on a server; they could be a big fish in a small pond. Or so I suspected, since I never spoke with either of them.

I had to grind hard to keep up. In particular, I had to spend months in PvP, which I hate, in order to get the last couple of pets to finally be #1 in the last few weeks of Burning Legion.

Then I looked at what it would take to stay at #1 for the eighth expansion, Battle for Azeroth.

It would mean more grinding at stuff I hated to do. In particular, there’s a pet I’d need to get by going into many Timewalking dungeons. Translated into English, that means visiting dungeons that I’d never been into before, over and over again.

Shouldn’t that be fun? Remember that there’d be four other people with me, total strangers. They became familiar and then bored with those old dungeons years ago. They want to zip through the place and get out. They’d have very little patience for someone who didn’t know the encounters, or even whether to turn left or right at crossroads.

Settle for not being #1 anymore? You’re joking, right?

I quit pet collecting cold turkey. I hadn’t even looked at warcraftpets until just now, when I copied the link to include in this blog post.

The Battle for Azeroth arrived and I started playing normally. I decided to switch characters and play one of my older ones, Theadora. There were interesting things to do, like visiting Drustvar. After I leveled her to the maximum allowed by the expansion, I started a new character in a new race from scratch, Winstonia, to experience the beginnings of the game again. And then…

I had a health problem. It’s caused me to be homebound for the past three months. During that time, as I try to find ways to occupy my time, I’ve felt no urge to play WoW. None.

Without pet collecting, the last vestige of thrill from Blizzard’s “Welcome to World of Warcraft” in 2004 is gone.

Storytelling? Blizzard hasn’t told an interesting story in years. Roleplaying? In WoW, it’s been gone more than a decade. Social environment? The Deadly Cupcakes have been nice to me and have been endlessly helpful with advice on how to play the game, but I don’t know any of them; I don’t even know their real names. (It could be reasonably pointed out that I never asked.)

The guild Explorers of Evermoore? For years I’ve stuck with it out of a sense of loyalty and memories of clambakes from 14 years ago. There’s only one other player who regularly signs on, and he’s another old hold-out from Mystic Realms as I am. (At least I know his real name!)

The central plotline of WoW is the Alliance versus the Horde. The Explorers of Evermoore is in the Alliance. On the Horde side, the guild The Onyx Crown once held the Horde characters of everyone in the Explorers of Evermoore. They had their own role-playing events… again, 14 years ago. Now, my two remaining Horde characters Grotar and Swiftslice are the only members of the Onyx Crown in years who’ve logged in.

After 15 years, World of Warcraft feels empty.

I realized I’ve felt this way for a while, but I wanted to wait a month or two to make sure. My feelings haven’t changed.

Lest you think I’m now bereft of all hope and joy, I’ll go back to the thread of events I began at the start of this post. In 2012 I walked into a game store and started playing board games with a bunch of people. Over the past few years that’s grown to regular visits to each other’s homes and playing D&D and other role-playing games via videoconferences. During my convalescence, they’ve visited me to play games in my home and given me lifts to play games in theirs.

And I know their faces and their real names. (Or so they tell me.)

I’ve come full circle, from eagerly anticipating my copy of TSR Hobbies’ Dungeons and Dragons in the mail back in 1976 to dealing with D&D5e on Roll20. It’s the people I’ve known along the way that have made the journey worthwhile.

So who needs World of Warcraft?

Horizon: Zero Dawn

It occurred to me that I’ve mentioned Horizon: Zero Dawn a couple of times in this blog, but my review of it never appeared here. For the sake of completeness and comparison, here are my reviews of Horizon: Zero Dawn and its expansion, Horizon: The Frozen Wilds. These reviews first appeared in a small members-only World of Warcraft forum, Deadly Cupcakes.

Horizon: Zero Dawn

This is one where you play a savage hunter going after mechanical dinosaurs.

I’ll start with what makes this game unique: the encounter mechanics. In H:ZD, you can’t go toe-to-toe with a foe unless you’re at least 10-15 levels above them, and often not even then. To deal with a given beast, you have scan them to learn their weaknesses (e.g., they have a canister that will explode if hit with fire), and come up with strategies for defeating them. The game does not force you into a particular strategy, it just provides you with a variety of tools, each with ammo of various elemental types (fire, shock, etc.): bows, tripwires, traps, and slings; there’s even some machine-gun-like weapon that I never used. You typically sneak around, plant your obstacles, lure a mob to you, do some damage… then run away before it can attack you, wait until it’s forgotten you’re there, then head back to do more damage.

If you all you want to do is blast away at enemies, this is definitely not the game for you. If you like to play a game that rewards patience and strategy, it’s a game to consider. For me, a player who has no twitch reflexes, it was a lot of fun.

This is an open-world game. After some initial tutorial quests, you can go pretty much anywhere you want, though the further you go from the starting areas the tougher the mobs get. There are the usual loads of side quests; I went on every one I found to out-level the main story content. There are also many types of collectables; my favorite was the Vantage, which gave you an overlay of the original high-tech landscape before the fall of civilization.

The graphics: This is a beautiful game on the PS4 (I don’t think it’s available on other platforms). The landscapes are lush, the details on the characters and the creatures are amazing. More than once I was befuddled by a shadow crossing the sky, then realize it wasn’t one of the flying creatures, but the sun rising. The one drag on this realism are the cut-scenes, which occasionally demonstrate some graphics glitches.

The story: You play Aloy, who (after a bit of a tutorial) starts out as a 19-year-old outcast from the Nora tribe. As you proceed in your efforts to be accepted by the tribe, you gradually become aware that there’s a destiny in store for Aloy, one that explains the mechanical creatures and the ancient remnants of a technological civilization that are all over the landscape. In the end, I liked the story; it did a good job of rationalizing the environment and tugged on my heartstrings as Aloy learned who she was and where she came from.

Diversity in gaming: Aloy is a 19-year-old woman, but none of her outfits looked anything other than practical gear. Several male characters (and at least one female character) attempt to flirt with her, but she has none of it: she’s focused on the task at hand. There’s an even blend of different human racial types represented. Aloy’s one semi-romantic interest (it goes no farther than “I’d like to show you that cavern someday”) is someone with a different skin color than hers. Like the recent Tomb Raider games, this game does well by the female lead (at least, according to this particular cis-gendered white male reviewer).

Final verdict: If you have a PS4, and you value patience in your game-play, this is a “must-have” game.

Horizon: The Frozen Wilds

This is an expansion for Horizon: Zero Dawn. When you install H:FW, a new large area is added to the Zero Dawn game map. H:FW assumes that you’ve already played the base game to completion (or close to it), since you face a level 30 mob just to reach the area and the mob and quest levels go up from there; for comparison, I finished the base game at level 48 and was level 58 by the time I completed the Frozen Wilds.

If you play Zero Dawn to completion (and after you go through the post-credits scene), a dialog box informs you that if you play again you’ll be taken to the point just before the end-game big battle, but with all the skills and gear you gained during that fight. That’s when Aloy (Horizon’s protagonist) was when I started the DLC. There’s no new quest marker; you have to look at the map, see the big new area, and head to it out of curiosity.

Once there, you find yourself among the Banuk, a tribe introduced in Zero Dawn with an affinity for communicating with the machine dinosaurs. Something has changed, and the machines in the far north have been possessed by a daemonic force. As you progress through the main quest (there are many side quests and collectibles, though not as many as the base game) you learn why this happened and what Aloy can do to stop it.

Guerilla Games put all their skill into this DLC. The character models are better, I saw no errors during the dialog sequences, and the graphics in the Frozen Wilds are as lush and varied as the base game. The challenges are greater, but you’re given access to better gear to handle them. Two new paths are added to dump your skill points into; they’re non-critical (better handling of mounts, better resources gathered) but they make grinding for craft supplies a bit easier. The story is shorter than the base game, of course; I think it me about 20 hours to get through everything, including all the side quests.

The overall gameplay of Frozen Wilds is the same as Zero Dawn: scan the monsters, plan your attack, grind for mats and craft supplies for your encounters. If you didn’t like that style of game before, there’s no change now.

If you liked Horizon: Zero Dawn, you should definitely consider Horizon: The Frozen Wilds. I enjoyed it, and I hope Guerilla is thinking about further adventures for Aloy.

Final Fantasy XV

As some of you may know, I’m homebound for a few weeks and was looking for a game to pass the time. I found one: Final Fantasy XV. Before I get to my review, I have to address the elephant in room (though it’s more like a T-Rex in a broom closet):

The very first female character players see in the game is Cindy. She’s got a chest that only exists in the world of computer graphics, and wears a car mechanic’s outfit of the sort you see models wearing in magazines like Hot Rod. She speaks in a Southern Belle accent and generally acts like a sex kitten. You can see an image of her here:

There are other women in FFXV. Those women are either standard anime tropes (the cute teenager with mystic powers; the woman warrior with revealing chest armor), or background NPC figures that are easily overlooked or skipped over in dialogs.

FFXV was published in 2016, well after awareness of representation in video games had become an issue. There was no excuse for this, other than to appeal to young Japanese boys who are presumably the target audience of the Final Fantasy series in its country of origin.

If I hadn’t just paid $50 for the game, I would have ragequit when I saw her. As it stands, I cringe every time she’s on the screen. This is fairly often, since she’s a frequent quest-giver and is responsible for maintaining your character’s main mode of transportation. Of course, whenever she refuels your car, you get the classic “bend-over” as she waxes the hood.

Setting that aside (and it’s a lot to set aside), let’s take a look at the rest of Final Fantasy XV.

FFXV is a fairly standard entry in the fantasy-world RPG genre. You fight monsters, complete quests, and explore dungeons. These gain you experience points to advance your character, money (the currency is “gil”) to buy items, and skill points (here called “Ascension Points”) to buy skills in a progressive tree.

Your character, Prince Noctis, starts off in an open-world environment, accompanied by three companions. Predictably, given what I noted at the start of the review, one of them makes frequent remarks on the female NPCs’ appearance. It’s very much a guys’ adventure, with typical male-bonding tropes.

The open world follows the conventions of the genre: villages, towns, cities, quest-giving NPCs, wandering monsters, etc. The difference is that the environment is based on modern-day imagery like that you’d find the mid-west. The towns are gas stations with diners, the main characters dress in Goth outfits, and you travel from place to place along interstate-style highways in a sports car. The monsters are still monsters, and you can still hack at them with swords, but you can also use guns if you wish.

Apart from what’s noted above, the story is FFXV‘s weakest link. It’s conventional: After the death of his father and the conquest of his kingdom by evil armored invaders, Prince Noctis must save his kingdom and marry the princess to restore order and happiness to the world. Evil foes with obvious motives obstruct his hero’s journey, including the mysterious Ardyn (who looks like the Fourth Doctor, acts like the Seventh Doctor, and turns out to be like the Valyard).

Apart from the lack of originality in the story, the presentation of the world’s mythology is confusing. There are big cinematic confrontations where it wasn’t clear to me who was doing what to whom and why. Maybe it would have made more sense in the original Japanese or to someone who played previous Final Fantasy games, but I found it to be opaque.

Another problem with the story is after Chapter Nine or so, the open world is left behind and you’re put on a generally linear path through the rest of the story. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing; a linear story revealed between combat and puzzle challenges is the description of the Uncharted series, which I enjoyed.

But the Uncharted games know what they’re doing, and FFXV does not. The linear portion of the story mainly consists of one cinematic after another, with very little player agency. It’s more like watching a movie than playing a video game. That would be fine as well, if the movie were interesting. But it’s just another tired series of cliches. For heaven’s sake, if you’re in Japan, just have lunch with the anime studio folks next door and ask them how it’s done; don’t come up with something boring.

The partial saving grace is that after you’ve finished with the linear story, you can time-travel back to the open world with all the gear, experience, and skills you’ve gained. The story is over, but there’s still plenty of open-world content to visit, depending on how long you chose to wait before completing the tasks that lead you to the linear adventure.

For the record, I played on the Easy difficulty level. The linear story requires you to be level 35-40, I didn’t go on it until I was level 50, at the end of the story I was level 55. When I returned to the open world (courtesy of a time-traveling dog), I was immediately informed of a level 99 quest. So there was plenty more to do, if I cared to do it.

I finally grew tired of the game when I hit level 77. It’s certainly possible to advance further than that; game forums speak of leveling up to a max of 120. But to get beyond 77 I learned that I would have to become less focused on adventuring and more on using tricks; e.g., eating foods and gaining items that boosted experience; resting in places that granted XP bonuses. It just didn’t seem worth it.

Conclusion: FFXV served its purpose, which was to occupy my time. It certainly is not the best open-world video game I’ve played; that honor belongs to Horizon: Zero Dawn. If you, like me, are looking for a basic time-spender, FFXV is acceptable entertainment, if you can overlook the misogyny and the story problems.

Now to find another time-spender. Platformers, first-person shooters, and multi-player combat games need not apply.

Red Dead Redemption 2

Red Dead Redemption 2 is a massive simulation of the Old West around the beginning of the 20th century. It’s an incredibly detailed game, loaded with quests, challenges, secrets, and several systems in which the world responds to how you play the game.

You play Arthur Morgan, a member of the Dutch Van der Linde gang. Among the other gang members are John Marsten and Bill Williamson, who will be (in the story’s internal timeline) the main protagonist and antagonist in the original Red Dead Redemption. The West is shrinking, and there’s less room for a gang of freebooters like the Van der Linde gang; the overall plot of the game is how your character plays a role in the gang’s fate.

I’ll mention that to get through the game, I found the following non-spoiler guide to be extremely helpful:

RDR2 has generally received high praise. However, I did not like it as much as I did the original RDR. I’m going to try to describe why.

My first major annoyance was with how the game uses the controller. The controls are context-sensitive, so a given button will do different things when you’re interacting with a shopkeeper, when you’re in camp, or when you’re wandering around a town. The game offers several controller layouts, but you’re limited to those choices; you can’t redefine the buttons individually.

The problem is that, when you’re not in specific situations, one of those buttons is always “insta-shoot.” I could be standing in front of a bartender, wanting to ask him a question, and I innocently press a key that seconds ago was used to order a drink. Only now it’s a quick-draw, I’ve killed the bartender, and the entire town starts shooting at me.

It sounds funny, but in practice it makes it difficult to play the game if I don’t want to play a character that shoots everyone. I had to hold the controller in an exaggerated way throughout most of the game to make sure I wouldn’t fire off my gun accidentally.

The game does not come with an “old folk’s mode” (aka Easy Difficulty) as many current games do. As I understand it, once you complete the game you can start a new game at harder difficulty level, though at 100+ hours to complete the game I imagine only a few die-hard players will get to that point. I didn’t have too much trouble playing the game at its default difficulty level, except for those situations that required precise movements of your character; most of that occurs in Chapter Five.

Since I mention the length of the game: Much of the time will be be spent traveling. The game offers few fast-travel options. It’s not unusual to spend more than ten minutes going from Quest A to Quest B. Optional activities like hunting and fishing also encourage a relaxed attitude towards time.

That leads to my second annoyance: You may learn patience while playing this game, but the NPCs don’t. It’s jarring that a game with such a level of detail that it makes you watch dung come out of horse has characters that aren’t much more reactive than the NPCs from 8-bit video games from 20 years ago. In particular, if an NPC makes a comment that indicates you’re taking too long, you’ve got at most two seconds to satisfy them; otherwise they’ll give up or start shooting or whatever.

Here’s an example: I’m riding down the road when I see a woman whose horse has fallen on top of her. I want to do a good deed, so I get off my horse and help her up. She tells me that her leg is injured and asks for a ride back to her place. I go to my horse and lead it to her, intending to help her up. She doesn’t react to this, and I can’t figure out what controller keys are needed to help her onto my horse. She complains “Aren’t you going to help me?” Just as I figure out that I have to get on my horse in order to offer someone a lift, she snaps “Well, I guess I’ll just walk on my own.” She starts limping down the road. From that point, she is completely unresponsive and I cannot interact with her, even as I ride alongside her on my horse.

Again, this sounds funny. In practice, it distorts every NPC interaction you have in the game, especially those involving doing good deeds for strangers. I eventually learned that there’s not much point in trying to do good deeds for anyone, since more than half the time a single delay or slip of the controller meant getting a bounty on my head.

I liked the overall story of RDR2. In many ways the story development was better than that of RDR. The problem here is the epilogue: RDR had an epilogue, but it only took a couple of hours. RDR2‘s epilogue took me about half as long as the original game had, and it wasn’t worth it; it was predictable for anyone who had played the the original RDR.

My overall verdict: I guess I kinda sorta liked Red Dead Redemption 2. But for such a big and complex game, I was hoping to love it. Looking back on it, I think I would have enjoyed playing Skyrim yet again over playing RDR2.

The Witches of Drustvar

I’ve played in World of Warcraft (WoW) since before its formal beginning; that is, I played in WoW beta test in 2004.

When you start either a Human or a Dwarf character in WoW, you quickly learn about flying between the Human capital of Stormwind and the Dwarf capital of Ironforge. Your character flies on the back of a gryphon from one city to another. You get to see the landscape as you travel above zones that, at the start of your character’s adventures in the game, are too dangerous for you to enter. One of those zones is the Burning Steppes, and within the Burning Steppes is a site called the Altar of Storms.

In the first WoW beta test, as I flew over the Altar of Storms, I saw a giant pentacle inscribed on the ground. As a Wiccan, I couldn’t help but be curious. During the beta test I never got to a high enough level to visit the location.

The full World of Warcraft was released in November 2004. When I took the gryphon between Stormwind and Ironforge, I saw the pentacle in the Altar of Storms was gone. It was replaced by a more abstract design. I never knew the reason for the change. Did anyone complain? I don’t know.

That was the only connection between World of Warcraft and Wicca over the years I played the game… until now.

In August 2018 Blizzard Entertainment released the latest expansion to World of Warcraft, Battle For Azeroth. One of the new zones added to the game is Drustvar. In Drustvar, there are witches.

The entire zone has general autumnal/Halloween feel to it, and these witches follow suit. They are entirely evil. They form an organization called the Heartsbane Coven. Their goal is to terrorize the people of Drustvar through curses and magic. They generally take one of two forms: a classic bent-over Halloween witch (vaguely resembling Laurie Cabot on a bad hair day), or an ethereal beautiful-but-deadly creature.

When your character interacts with these witches, they will always attack and try to kill your avatar. They say phrases like “The Coven will slay you all!” The non-player characters (NPCs) in Drustvar, like the NPCs throughout World of Warcraft, have random phrases they say when you click on them; in Drustvar, these phrases include “Death to the coven!” or “Death to all witches!”

I’m part of a community of gamers who play WoW. I was warned by one of them about Drustvar before I sent my character there. In context of the game, a player has no choice but to send their character to Drustvar and encounter these witches, since there are some long-term goals that can only be realized by doing so.

You can guess that, as a Wiccan and a Witch, this bothers me.

It’s not as if the designers of WoW are isolated from the world in some way. There are tons of pop culture references throughout the game. I wouldn’t expect them to know about Wicca explicitly, but they’d certainly know about Charmed and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In today’s media culture, it’s hard to avoid knowing that Witchcraft is a “thing” and that some people take it seriously.

If the WoW designers knew this, they ignored it. They went full-on “Satanic panic”. They reinforced that message with frequent anti-witch sentiments when you click your mouse on a character in Drustvar.

There nothing much that can be done. I’m certainly not the only Wiccan who plays World of Warcraft (there’s at least a couple in my gaming community), but I get the impression that our reaction is to put up with it.

I’m also aware that there many other similar issues associated with marginalized groups that deserve more attention than a computer game: gender discrimination, racial inequality, LGBTQ+ acceptance, believing assault survivors, and so on. The Witches of Drustvar are meaningless compared to the real-world violence and discrimination experienced by millions in this country and throughout the nations that play World of Warcraft.

So I can whine, but that’s it. It’s less than a first-world problem. Is there such a thing as a zeroth-world problem?

In case you’re wondering, I have not yet sent my Orc character through the zone of Nazmir to encounter the loa Bwonsamdi. I understand he gets fairer treatment than the witches do. Perhaps he deserves it!