Diablo III shows why.
About a year ago, the video game company Blizzard made a huge announcement about the latest edition of its beloved Diablo franchise: The long-awaited Diablo III would feature an in-game "auction house" where virtual goods could be bought and sold using both the game's gold coins and real-world currency. This was a big change for the Diablo series, and it meant adding a newly stringent forms of digital rights management for players. Gamers would have to be online all the time while playing Diablo III (which had never been the case before), and would be limited in how they could use their auction-house items after buying them.
Long-time fans of the series complained that these changes infringed on their rights. Why should they have to be online while playing the game? What if they don't have access to an Internet connection secure enough to share personal information? And why can't they have more control over items that they bought with their own money? In true Blizzard form, the company refused to budge, maintaining that these changes would revolutionize the way people play games together. Critics have continued to protest Blizzard's new plan, but for real change to occur, gamers themselves need a clearer sense of their own capacity for civic engagement in these virtual worlds.
Diablo III was finally released on May 15th, 2012. It became the fastest-selling PC game of all time and received an impressive number of glowing reviews. But there was a problem, even before the auction house was launched. Players began reporting that their accounts had been hacked and their in-game property—virtual hordes of weapons, armor, and treasure that players had labored countless hours to acquire—had been stolen.
Reading reviews for Diablo III, it's easy to see why people take virtual property so seriously. "The main element in Diablo...isn't really your persona," Seth Schiesel wrote in the New York Times, "It's your equipment." Arthur Gies of Polygon called loot "the beating heart of Diablo III." Mike Schramm explained in Joystiq that the thrill of playing was continuous reward: "That loot, that sweet loot, always falls right into your pack with satisfaction." Even the more critical reviews in PC Gamer, Eurogamer, and Edge all faulted the game for failing to make the loot as satisfying as it was in Diablo II. (In my review I called the loot "tchotchkes" and insisted that the game is still very fun without taking it so seriously.)
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The full figures are not available, but Blizzard stated that several thousand users were banned from the game for cheating or hacking. The company released a number of gracious apologies and explanations accounting for performance issues. The launch of the real-money auction house was delayed three separate times, until finally the company unveiled new security measures last week to assure customers that their virtual property would be safe. As of early last week, the real-money auction house is officially live. It's too early to judge the relative success or stability of the platform, but one thing is abundantly clear: Blizzard is poised to reinvent both the internal economics of virtual game worlds and their corresponding precedent for legitimate digital rights management. And, as fellow industry leader Tim Willits said in support of the company, they're using a "juggernaut" title to force gamers to accept this.
The need for gamers to assert their rights becomes immediately apparent now that real money has been introduced to the Diablo world. As Edward Castronova, Professor of Telecommunications at Indiana University Bloomington and scholar of virtual economies, explained to me, multiplayer videogames have long featured complex economic interactions with real-world implications—whether in money gained or lost, or simply the amount of time sunk into a virtual world. Since EverQuest first launched in 1999, games often used a "dual currency model"—where all goods within a virtual world are exchanged with a unique virtual currency.
But within any dual-currency model, a third party market invariably arose where users could trade virtual goods through a platform like eBay. Lacking the regulation of either the game itself or a real-world government, these sales gave rise to "gold farming" (harvesting virtual goods or currency to sell to other users, such as this Diablo III player claiming to make 60 million coins an hour) and periodic charges of de facto "virtual sweatshops" arising (a more insidious form of gold farming where groups of players work inhumane hours for substandard pay)—transforming a leisure activity presumed to be fun into a geopolitical nightmare.
Blizzard reasons that taking control of the entire economy will allow it to be more safely regulated. As they explained in a statement when reached for comment on this story:
Knowing from the previous games in the series that many players would seek out a means of selling and purchasing items for real currency, we felt it was important to provide a convenient, high-quality mechanism for this completely within the game environment and enable players to directly benefit from participating.
Could a company offer such an intricate economy without requiring digital rights management? "Probably not," John Walker, a writer for the British PC gaming site Rock, Paper, Shotgun told me. "So the question is: Do we actually need this in the first place?"