I remember the day I dinged max level. A world of new raid and dungeon content stretched out before me, beckoning with all its shiny purple l33tness. And what did I do first?
Start another character.
I think we’ve pretty much established here earlier that I’m not, nor will I ever be amongst the elite tier of gamers with a high item level and a stack of raid invites. It’s not that I don’t want to be. I freely admit that I am keenly jealous of those with the time and the determination to necessary to acquire such lovely gear scores, but my priorities in life have changed and I’m pretty sure it would be considered poor parenting to ignore my toddler in favour of new raid content. Don’t get me wrong, I fully intend on sharing the gaming experience with him! I plan to start as soon as he’s old enough to enjoy it, yet young enough still to not quite realize that “Farming Gold for Mommy” isn’t part of the main quest line.
But the whole incident again made me question why I play MMOs in the first place, especially World of Warcraft where I have historically struggled with Blizzard’s lack of endgame content for the moderate gamer even before The Tiny One was born. I think a large part of it comes down to feeling like I’ve made progress at something, and that is not to be taken for granted. In the real world, days can pass in a blur, a whole week disappearing again before I seem to have made the smallest dent in the ever-bulging notebook that passes as my “To Do” list.
Yet in Azeroth, my list is simple. 90 levels. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Each one ticking off a task. So ok, the laundry might not be done and the spare room still isn’t put back together, but I put in an easy 10 levels in far less time than that would have taken me and I didn’t even have to worry about forgetting to empty the lint trap.
If only life awarded valour points for cleaning quests. At least I’d be motivated to earn that Mop of Grand Disinfecting with +5 Hit Chance to all Germs and Bacteria.