Saturday, October 30, 2010

City Of Heroes : My First Time

I've recently been given pause, to reflect upon my past experiences in gaming. I'm finding it frustratingly difficult to pinpoint my very first MMO interaction. Massive Multi-player On-Line interfacing has expanded in extraordinary leaps and bounds with the integration of on-line compatible systems into every DVD player, pocket phone, and bedside reading lamp. We've come a long way from our huddled masses, cloying about the high-school computer labs in secrecy, attempting to sneak a LAN connected game of WarCraft II in before lunch hour had rung to a close.

Yes, there was a WarCraft before we had a World there of. Three distinct and progressive iterations, each more astonishing and breathtaking then the last. Through them were forged a great many trends and staples of the RTS. They made popular the gimmicks of Fog of War, Tower Defense, and the necessity of the Actions Per Minute count. War was a thing, and we Crafted it.

Though it would not be until many years later that I would have a computer all my own, and the excess earnings of youth with which to acquire a credit account and a real MMO. One that required you play on a server, surrounded by fellow enthusiasts of the same genre. One that would immerse you in a unique world brimming with walks of every imaginable life form. One that had you willfully shelling out those few extra dollars, just for another month of access. And one that I could only dream of playing as it's on-going development was announced in my high-school days. City of Heroes.

I had gotten it as an X-Mas present for December of 2005. I didn't even have a computer of my own, or a means to pay for the subscription, but I had wanted it so badly. Ranted and raved, and frothed at the bit to be able to just possess it. It wouldn't be until 2008 that I'd have a system capable of running it, or a credit card through which I could buy even a fleeting second of it's time. I'd toggle through the character selections, customizing an intricately costumed righter of wrongs. And when I was finally able to play, I discovered that I'd also been given access to it's counter-part. It had been produced while I'd waited all those years. City of Villains.

Everyone loves a "good" villain. It can't be helped. For every hero I had customized and suited up, I'd imagined a Rogues Gallery with which to do just combat. Now, I was presented the opportunity to do unjust combat, and it made me giddy. Moreso, when I had discovered the variations on the superhero archetypes. Without a moral compass, villainous creations were capable of corrupting minds and bodies, of puppeteer crowds and stealing thoughts, and donning a twisted or intimidating appearance while doing so. I immediately set the parameters for a Mastermind.

It's shell was gunmetal gray, tipped to the brink of all regulation size and weight scales. Hewn from layer upon layer of smoothed scrap metal, it's bulk was absurdly balanced upon skeletal robotic ostrich legs. Thick, tubular arms funneled into gargantuan riveted gauntlets. It had no face to speak of, merely a series of ever-watching scopes that indicated its facing. From orbital carrier, or through decisively placed underground tunnels, it would summon forth it's mechanical minions. It (being of complete unfeeling gender neutrality) was Mass Assembly, and I don't believe I've ever stopped loving it...

It wasn't the sheer scale of customization options that I loved. It wasn't the changeable aesthetics, or the merrily whirring robot minions, or the attempts at typing computer speak in all caps through the community server chat to give my Mastermind depth. It wasn't any of those things that made me love my character. I loved my character because he was a character. Every tiny detail I had poured into him made him one-of-a-kind. Through the customization of powers, body shape, and costume, I had made something special to me. It wasn't some human with slightly different hair color that got covered up by his armor to look like everyone else. It wasn't some exotic species that only came with four different head variations. It was something I had put thought and effort into. That made it whole. That made it a character, a role that I could play.

I appreciated the amount to which I could customize my super powers. Minions weren't restricted to generic street thugs (though those were an option), and I was even able to go so far as to name each individual as my villainous career progressed. Because I can be an alliterative arse at times, I called my skirmish drones Amalgamation, Aggregation, and Accumulation. Attendant and Accompaniment were my repair drones. And Arsenal was my war machine (whom, I might point out, was only relatively smaller the Mass Assembly). After some forty levels of play, I even had a deployable regenerative pylon and hovering proximity mines. I was a giant robot, summoning medium-sized robots, deploying smaller robots from my body, and shooting lasers where ever I damn well pleased. I was a theme villain, and the game accommodated for me.

Sadly, my youthful excess of earnings eventually dried up. When I left, the Rikti were well into their Second Invasion, and some secretive Time Police under the operative name of Oroboros had just appeared on the scene to muck around with history a little. From what I hear, heroes and villains now have the opportunity to go Rogue and add the anti prefix to their respective titles. I'm curious to see how the Cities of Heroes and Villains have gotten along without me. If I had the means to do so, I'd consider booting up the old Mass Assembly line and see how darkened my frenemy list has become. When you can manufacture your own minions, you seldom get lonely. Then again, a reboot might call for a Mark II model...

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