You’re In Our World Now:
Examining The Influence Of EverQuest
On Tuesday, March 16, 1999, the world of Norrath opened to us all and forever changed my life.
I still vividly remember the first time I saw images from EverQuest, from a preview in PC Gamer Magazine in 1998. Pictured was a barbarian warrior, with his face painted blue like the Scottish in Braveheart, striking with a sword. Flipping through the pages of my favorite magazine, I knew I had to play this game when it was released. I knew that the ability to traverse through a massively multiplayer online role-playing game would fill me with immense wonder, but I could never have guessed the true impact of this game on my life.
EverQuest is an MMORPG set in the mystical realm of Norrath. Norrath is expansive and diverse, with numerous regions and territories to explore, such as the icy tundras of Velious, the dense jungles of Kunark, and the vast plains of the Karanas. Players can become elves, dwarves, gnomes, ogres, humans, or several other races. They can play one of sixteen classes, like warriors, wizards, druids, bards, or rangers. They can participate in raids on dangerous monsters and gods and embark on tens of thousands of quests. Norrath is magical, and so are the real-life humans who journey there, seeking endless exploration, discovery, and adventure.
My fascination with the concept of MMORPGs began with media coverage of Ultima Online, a game I had not played but desperately wanted the opportunity. When EverQuest was being prepped for release, I knew that I had to try. Although I was only thirteen, I successfully lobbied my parents for the game. For younger readers, we were still in the days of dial-up modem connections. One phone call and your party would be left to deal with the vicious minotaurs of the Steamfont Mountains without you. I found myself extremely lucky that we had a second phone line in the basement; I was set up for success.
My first character was the barbarian warrior Madmartigan, named with affection for Val Kilmer’s character in the 1988 movie Willow and styled after the preview displayed in that issue of PC Gamer. I soon discovered that EverQuest was slow-paced, dark, and unforgiving. The last time I played the character, he fell off of a boat in the Ocean of Tears, was eaten by a shark, and I lost his corpse forever. I had to start over, so I deleted the character and tried something else. This harsh gaming reality is the lifeblood of EverQuest.
Paradoxically, the difficulty and hardships are what gripped the player base. The immersive experience was something I had never experienced before, and have never felt so strongly since. The game was hard; failure was common. Dying an unfortunate death could mean an hour of recovering your corpse, without any of your hardwon weapons or armor. For the first several years, most in-game traveling was done by foot or boat (or the occasional teleport from a wizard or druid). Corpses of other players’ characters littered the landscape. I’ve tried plenty of other MMORPGs over the years without the need to mention them by name because none of them had the pull of EverQuest. The cultural mindset had been altered. Gaming was different now. Life was different now.
The appeal of EverQuest’s challenge arises from being a digital world built for a still-analog world. Its players spent their childhoods weaving stories in Dungeons & Dragons with paper and pencils and playing Magic: The Gathering around tables. The commitment was different; the feelings were different. Actions had consequences. People were encouraged [forced] to work together to achieve their goals and had to spend hours upon hours scrapping for minimal treasures.
EverQuest punished players for failure in ways that modern games would never. Death in-game would cause characters to fall backward in their progression and development, losing levels and becoming weaker. There were no automated features for finding other players, crafting potions or food, or selling valuable loot to other players. Players drew maps on graph paper and uploaded them online to websites, sharing the locations of special monsters and building a community of information and resources. Commerce was player-designed, and on most servers, the free marketplace was in the tunnels between the East Commonlands and the Northern Desert of Ro.
After EverQuest was released, there was now a time that a video game world was going on without you. If you weren’t logged in, you were missing out. Not just on swords and platinum pieces, but on life within the game. What happens if your friends are playing and leveling beyond your reach? It created in some an addiction, but in others a strong sense of community.
Aside from straight gameplay, people have become close in and out of Norrath. Humans have been married and had children with elves they met in the world of Norrath. Lifelong, multi-decade-long friendships have been forged. EverQuest is no ordinary game, as the bonds forged by spending hours camping Pickclaw goblins in High Keep in the Antonican Mountains are strong.
There is no sign that EverQuest is slowing down. Although the population has dwindled compared to its height in the early 2000s, thousands of people worldwide still log into the game daily. After twenty-nine expansions over twenty-four years, the collective time and emotional investments are massive. While there is occasional talk about sunk cost fallacy amongst the player base, the pull in-game is undeniable.
Admittedly, I have not played consistently since 1999. There have been breaks over time, as computers break and life got complicated or I just hit a wall. My current character, a Dwarf Berserker named Scuz Cambria, can be found on the Mangler server, which was designated at creation as the 20th Anniversary server. I had taken a break from the game for a few years but knew that my former guildmates were still smiting dragons and slaying gods. After several months of debate, I jumped back into the game and was welcomed back by old friends like Preez, Ashur, and Xaint.
The whole point of an MMORPG is to interact with other players in this world. This process, plus the longevity of a game that quite literally and pointedly has no end, allows for the development of close relationships. I’ve sustained relationships with the aforementioned players, amongst others, for nearly a decade. Though we’ve never met in real life, I’ve heard stories of Ashur’s daughter from her time in elementary school until after her high school graduation. The longevity of these friendships in the world of Norrath is a testament to the devotion and accomplishments in this fantasy world.
I recently traveled to Seattle for AWP 2023. While there, I made plans to meet up with a longtime EverQuest friend, Toadstyle (in-game names only for this article!). It was my first time meeting a friend from in-game, though there have been other attempts over the years that didn’t quite pan out.
Putting a non-Froglok face to the name was wonderful. We introduced our romantic partners and mostly talked about life outside of Norrath, though we did have a discussion about the game that touched on many of my written thoughts in this essay. After our ramen, we expressed appreciation for the shared company, wished each other well, and said, “I’ll see you in-game!”
In the end, it’s the connections and the community that keep us returning to this game that has existed for nearly a quarter century. The graphics and interface are decades old, and some of the mechanics and coding is clunky and unwieldy. But the people are unlike any other — they are prepared for the tenacity necessary for the slow burn of leveling. We are Norrathians, and we are prepared to continue telling our tales forever.
