Post by Murray Jay Suskind on Jan 15, 2009 4:03:53 GMT -5
Life Won't Wait: An Examination of Nostalgia as One of the Deadliest Forces in Urban Dead.
(Note: I've been meaning to make this the subject of a guest appearance, but with my renewed commitment to actually playing MJS, I'm not sure that this opportunity will arise. Hence, it's appearing as an essay.)
There's a certain power in shared experience. Players who have gone through an experience together will often form a bond that nothing will ever break. Players who have shared a particularly good experience together will try to encapsulate it in amber and hold onto it forever, even as the faces and the game around them constantly change. To me one of the greatest sources of conflict in this game comes from players who refuse to understand that those who did not take part in a certain collective experience have no attachment to it.
I came about during a weird time in Urban Dead. There was a high number of players from the initial few months of the game still playing, but they were starting to be outnumbered by newer players who took over the infrastructure that the oldest of the old school built. I had heard about Caiger I and Caiger II. I had been told about Stanstock. I was even a member of a horde started by a legend named Petro. I understood there was a significance to all of these things, but I never could never understand the attachment that other players put into these events and these people. That's because it was impossible to understand that which I wasn't a part of.
As the oldest of the old players passed the RRF over to a new generation of leadership, some older players revolted. Grim blew a fuse when Sonny was made Papa over him. Jorm quietly (at first) left the horde as Patrucio allowed death cultists in. Sonny couldn't comprehend an RRF devoid of the traditions he was tapped to shepherd. Old school players who fled for the MOB would bug me nightly telling me about how much more awesome it was in the old days before the RRF had death cultists, completely unaware that bitching to me about my way I liked doing things was killing the awesomeness of that horde for me.
Finally, we have the latest example. The one that brought me here tonight. Older members of the Quartly Library who cannot figure out why the RRF won't honor the truce with the Quartly Library. I have seen people go on for hours on this topic. Accusing people of starting things, belaboring arcane points over the most mundane details, making excuses for behavior that would be acceptable out of any other player who wasn't a part of the "truce." All of these things happening while ignoring one fundamental reality...
No one else cares anymore.
I don't mean to be harsh or to dismiss your concerns. I've always been respectful of the Quartly Library and have honored the truce. However, people need to realize that this is a sentimental attachment to a time that's well past and that has no meaning to those who have come afterward. Would it be awesome if everyone could just get along and magically understood and honored these traditions? Yes. Is it fair to expect them to understand and honor these traditions? To be frank, no.
It's always seemed to me that Urban Dead players have an unfortunate habit of latching onto their favorite memories of the game and trying desperately to recreate them. They fail to understand that what made those moments so special and unique is something that can't be recreated (otherwise the wouldn't be special and unique). The people participating are different. The mechanics of the game have changed. The way people play the game has changed. Absolutely none of these things in themselves are bad. However, they somehow become bad when viewed through the eyes of those who refuse to let go of the past.
I readily understand that the Quartly is unfairly singled out by griefers and scoundrels who seek refuge. I loved the concept of the no-kill zone because for a short time it somehow worked despite every logical impulse saying it never could. However, many of the people who made that short success possible are now gone. In their place are players who may be assholes, but even if they weren't, they would have never gotten it anyway. They would have seen you as an easy target, killed you and moved on (instead they're assholes and they don't move on). On the other hand, you've been trying to re-create a moment that was dependent upon certain people in a certain place at a certain time.
You've fallen into the same trap as the Barhah Fundamentalists who at one point tried to bully the Gore Corps out of the horde and later pushed me away from the MOB. You've fallen into the same trap as Sonny who thinks that a zombie horde run differently from the way he did is apostasy. You've steadfastly clung to the past even as everything else around you has.
You're always going to have a friend in me because I was there. I get it. I still care about it. Yet if you want to build up that kind of relationship with anyone else, you're going to have to change your way of doing things. What made the no-kill era so special wasn't the policy itself. It was the people who made it happen. What made the Quartly Library special wasn't the building it was in, it was the people who passed through it.
I don't pretend to know the answers to all of the problems you face. However, you were a group that welcomed all comers with open arms and would have fun with the assholes who tried to take advantage of it. Instead of investing yourself in that, you became invested in the symbolism that conveyed it: the open doors, the no-kill policy, the square on the map itself. You're valuing your own nostalgia above many other things.
And it this game, nostalgia is nothing but a road to bitterness.
(Note: I've been meaning to make this the subject of a guest appearance, but with my renewed commitment to actually playing MJS, I'm not sure that this opportunity will arise. Hence, it's appearing as an essay.)
There's a certain power in shared experience. Players who have gone through an experience together will often form a bond that nothing will ever break. Players who have shared a particularly good experience together will try to encapsulate it in amber and hold onto it forever, even as the faces and the game around them constantly change. To me one of the greatest sources of conflict in this game comes from players who refuse to understand that those who did not take part in a certain collective experience have no attachment to it.
I came about during a weird time in Urban Dead. There was a high number of players from the initial few months of the game still playing, but they were starting to be outnumbered by newer players who took over the infrastructure that the oldest of the old school built. I had heard about Caiger I and Caiger II. I had been told about Stanstock. I was even a member of a horde started by a legend named Petro. I understood there was a significance to all of these things, but I never could never understand the attachment that other players put into these events and these people. That's because it was impossible to understand that which I wasn't a part of.
As the oldest of the old players passed the RRF over to a new generation of leadership, some older players revolted. Grim blew a fuse when Sonny was made Papa over him. Jorm quietly (at first) left the horde as Patrucio allowed death cultists in. Sonny couldn't comprehend an RRF devoid of the traditions he was tapped to shepherd. Old school players who fled for the MOB would bug me nightly telling me about how much more awesome it was in the old days before the RRF had death cultists, completely unaware that bitching to me about my way I liked doing things was killing the awesomeness of that horde for me.
Finally, we have the latest example. The one that brought me here tonight. Older members of the Quartly Library who cannot figure out why the RRF won't honor the truce with the Quartly Library. I have seen people go on for hours on this topic. Accusing people of starting things, belaboring arcane points over the most mundane details, making excuses for behavior that would be acceptable out of any other player who wasn't a part of the "truce." All of these things happening while ignoring one fundamental reality...
No one else cares anymore.
I don't mean to be harsh or to dismiss your concerns. I've always been respectful of the Quartly Library and have honored the truce. However, people need to realize that this is a sentimental attachment to a time that's well past and that has no meaning to those who have come afterward. Would it be awesome if everyone could just get along and magically understood and honored these traditions? Yes. Is it fair to expect them to understand and honor these traditions? To be frank, no.
It's always seemed to me that Urban Dead players have an unfortunate habit of latching onto their favorite memories of the game and trying desperately to recreate them. They fail to understand that what made those moments so special and unique is something that can't be recreated (otherwise the wouldn't be special and unique). The people participating are different. The mechanics of the game have changed. The way people play the game has changed. Absolutely none of these things in themselves are bad. However, they somehow become bad when viewed through the eyes of those who refuse to let go of the past.
I readily understand that the Quartly is unfairly singled out by griefers and scoundrels who seek refuge. I loved the concept of the no-kill zone because for a short time it somehow worked despite every logical impulse saying it never could. However, many of the people who made that short success possible are now gone. In their place are players who may be assholes, but even if they weren't, they would have never gotten it anyway. They would have seen you as an easy target, killed you and moved on (instead they're assholes and they don't move on). On the other hand, you've been trying to re-create a moment that was dependent upon certain people in a certain place at a certain time.
You've fallen into the same trap as the Barhah Fundamentalists who at one point tried to bully the Gore Corps out of the horde and later pushed me away from the MOB. You've fallen into the same trap as Sonny who thinks that a zombie horde run differently from the way he did is apostasy. You've steadfastly clung to the past even as everything else around you has.
You're always going to have a friend in me because I was there. I get it. I still care about it. Yet if you want to build up that kind of relationship with anyone else, you're going to have to change your way of doing things. What made the no-kill era so special wasn't the policy itself. It was the people who made it happen. What made the Quartly Library special wasn't the building it was in, it was the people who passed through it.
I don't pretend to know the answers to all of the problems you face. However, you were a group that welcomed all comers with open arms and would have fun with the assholes who tried to take advantage of it. Instead of investing yourself in that, you became invested in the symbolism that conveyed it: the open doors, the no-kill policy, the square on the map itself. You're valuing your own nostalgia above many other things.
And it this game, nostalgia is nothing but a road to bitterness.
with proper attire