News of the war council spread to every corner of the realm, and everyone wanted in. Character upon character converged on the palace, creating an impromptu fair on the field beyond its walls. There were merchants selling goods, heroes fighting the monsters that the game insisted on spawning, and, of course, player after player after player dueling one another. It was a kind of Dark Ages Bonnaroo without the bands.
Only those with an invitation were let beyond the moat. Players who lived in Portland or had a connection to technology, television, and/or medicine were recruited. In an unprecedented move for a Warcraft guild, invitees were required to give their real life names, occupations, and places of residence. Two senior guild members were tasked with screening and reviewing all applicants, turning away far more than were allowed to pass.
It had taken Jackie no small effort to get there. She had “borrowed” her mother’s credit card, and then spent more than five hours downloading the Warcraft software along with a never-ending stream of updates. She’d found the one spot in her room blind to the ATN cameras—in a corner on the floor, next to her closet—and sat there, huddled over her computer.
After a while, one of the producers poked her head into the bedroom, wondering how Jackie had vanished. When she saw Jackie sitting cross-legged on the floor, her MacBook in her lap, the producer shook her head and left. Twenty minutes later, and just a few minutes before Jackie finally arrived in Azeroth, a technician came in and affixed a new camera to the ceiling, aiming it directly at Jackie’s corner. His face was riddled with guilt, and he muttered “sorry” before he left the room. It didn’t matter to Jackie; they still couldn’t see her computer screen.
Jackie’s character was a male dwarf warrior called Gerald the Generous, the name a nod to Hazel’s character. When she—or rather Gerald—first arrived in Azeroth, he was standing in a small outdoor plaza, surrounded by walking, running, and leaping avatars. The theme was medieval, or maybe more aptly, computer-generated medieval fantasy.
An enormous, green-skinned female elf was standing in front of Jackie’s dwarf, its arms gesticulating wildly. When Jackie moved her mouse over the character, she saw that it was Guinevere the Glad—Hazel. Jackie had no idea what to do. The two of them stood there like that for a couple of minutes.
Jackie was just about to give up when she noticed a small chat box on the World of Warcraft dashboard.
Hazel
Can you hear me?
GtGen
Hear you?
Hazel
Yeah, do you have your headset plugged in?
GtGen
I don’t have a headset. Besides, anything I say out loud will just wind up on TV.
Hazel
Right, of course. Okay, we’ll do this the old-fashioned way. We’ll type.
For the next hour, Gerald the Generous followed Guinevere the Glad from one virtual glade to the next. Jackie learned how to manipulate her character, how to fight monsters, how to talk to people, how to pick up and drop materials, how to attach herself to a group, and so much more. She found the game mind-numbingly fun.
When she and Hazel arrived at the palace, they crossed a drawbridge and found two guards arguing with a muscular, human male warrior just outside the colossal stone door. Hazel could hear the conversation; Jackie could not.
“I am invited,” the male warrior was saying.
“Sorry, newb,” the guard answered. “This is a private guild meeting. No one under level fifty allowed.”
“What’s going on, Farsifal?” Guinevere asked.
“This newb is lost,” he answered. “We’re trying to help him understand.”
“Nyet!” the warrior insisted. “Jackie invite me.”
“What’s going on?” Jackie typed into her chat box.
“Some kid who says he knows you,” Guinevere responded. “I think he’s Russian.”
“Max?” Jackie typed.
“Solnyshko! Please tell them I am good.”
“Jackie, did you invite someone?” Guinevere asked. “I’m not sure that was such a good idea.”
“It’s okay. He needs to be here. You can trust him.”
Ten minutes later, Guinevere the Glad was banging the butt of her sword on the stone table, calling the council to order. The myriad side conversations died down.
Jackie waited as the first part of the conversation took place by voice. Hazel had warned her that this would be the case.
“This guild has done more good in the land of Azeroth than any in the realm,” Hazel began.
There were murmurs of assent.
“We have slain mighty foes.” The murmurs grew louder. “We have recovered plentiful bounty!” Louder still. “And we have helped those in need.”
The assembled interrupted with “woots” and “huzzahs.”
Jackie’s Facebook IM flashed.
Max
Solnyshko, what manner of talking is this?
Jackie
I can’t actually hear them, Max, but don’t worry about it. This is a role-playing game, so it might sound funny. Just follow along the best you can.
Max
I will do my hardest.
Jackie
“I will try my hardest,” Max, or “I will do my best.” I think you got them mixed up.