The 7 Most Elaborate Dick Moves in Online Gaming History
Massively multiplayer online role-playing games are a psychological test we pay to fail. We've looked at the biggest dick moves in online gaming before, but multiplayer games are like porn stars -- no matter how big a dick you've seen, somewhere there's an even bigger one doing unspeakable things to people. For instance ...
The RuneScape Falador Massacre
RuneScape is a free MMPORG which anyone can access through a browser. Lowering the barrier of entry means that they have to create conditions to keep their game from devolving into a wasteland of constant murder and anarchy. There are various controls around combat -- players can fight each other, but only in designated places or as part of combat minigames. RuneScape had created a less violent, more honest society than the real world. The Falador Massacre originated at a house party which represented everything good about the game, beginning as a wacky accident and ending with the slaughter of hundreds. It's like that episode of I Love Lucy where it turns out Lucy's the Boston Strangler.
Player "Cursed You" was celebrating the fact that he'd maxed out on the recently added Construction skill by inviting people to a home he'd built with his hard-won expertise. At this point, you might expect a marauding gang of jealous players to tear his house down, since being constructive is generally not the internet's thing. But in RuneScape, where people apparently celebrate one another's achievements, Cursed You's party was the jam of the century. There were even combat minigames to provide some controlled ass-kicking to keep everyone entertained. So many players showed up to the party that the server started to buckle. Eventually the lag got so bad that Cursed You had to boot everyone back to the peaceful city.
As players milled around, presumably gossiping about who was making out with who before the cops busted it up, the players who'd been in the party's combat ring noticed something: They could still kill people, even if they weren't at a combat location or playing a minigame. They were the first and only people who to have this ability in the history of RuneScape. Of course, making use of the power would require them to slaughter innocent fellow players who had put hours into the online lives they'd be ending. What happened next says worse things about gamers than Jack Thompson.
Any discovery requires repeated trials.
They immediately began killing bystanders. The evening quickly went from a demonstration of online gaming goodwill to a vivid illustration of why Earth can't have superheroes. Random people were gifted with amazing new powers and used them to tear through the world like innocence-fueled combine harvesters. Their victims couldn't fight back even when attacked, and within minutes, the supervillains embodied the deadly sins of rage, pride, greed, and douchebaggery. Some slaughtered low-level players en masse just to get the biggest body count, while others hunted suddenly defenseless high-level players to steal valuable items. The devil signed human nature by having this happen on 6/6/06.
This was one of the most valuable items stolen. We're not joking. It's valued at 1.6 billion gold coins (about $1,416 in real money (and we're still not joking)):
They kept murdering for a full hour before moderators arrived to stop it. How psychotic would you have to be to keep clicking on defenseless characters for 60 minutes when they can't fight back? We're assuming local police departments found out when a moderator permanently banned everyone who did it, unleashing them on the real world.
An EverQuest Guide Gets Greek On Players' Asses
Online gamers are the most ludicrously entitled beings since Caligula made his horse a senator, and at least the horse never said anything stupid. I don't say that as an insult; I say it with plenty of self-depreciating love. Hell, almost everyone at Cracked is an online gamer, including me. But there are entitled gamers, and then there are ENTITLED gamers. EverQuest had an overflow of the latter, so they employed "Guide" characters to deal with them. Unfortunately, giving special powers to someone and then ensuring they are exposed to some of the world's most obnoxious gamers turned out to be a better recipe for supervillainy than dropping a criminal mastermind into a tank of chemicals.
A Guide on the Terris Thule server snapped and went full Prometheus on a bunch of players, summoning them to Veshaan's Peak and binding them in the stomping path of a giant dragon. Because eagles are for pussies. Even those who weren't bound found themselves stuck between the dragon and a pack of racnars, aka EverQuest velociraptors, making a rock and a hard place look like a threesome.
"Racnar (noun): Original monster design is hard."
They were forced to die and resurrect over and over again, enduring more pointless deaths than a Groundhog Day marathon. An emergency team of Guides with the same powers were dispatched to take down their rogue colleague, making this the first and only time an MMO dick move accidentally wrote the perfect Jean-Claude Van Damme movie.
The Ultima Online Ecto-Containment Unit
Slimes are how designers tell RPG players to screw themselves. "We know you're going to play anyway, loser, so if you want enemies we put effort into, you can just level up." But years ago, it used to be standard for slimes to split any time you hit them. This is a bigger problem than you might think. It allowed game designers to get away with an impressive amount of laziness by occupying more of your time with the most boring type of enemy. Plus you had to deal with the psychologically crippling realization that your heroic blows were just the foreplay in the slime reproductive cycle, and that you were probably more sexually involved with the amorphous blobs in a video game than you were with any real person.
"Sorry, was this getting in the way of all the oral sex you were having? Didn't think so."
And then one day, slimes in Ultima Online stopped splitting. You probably assumed game designers had decided to challenge themselves, if you noticed the change and know nothing about game designers. But in reality, their hand was forced when a player who went by "Chrae" stood up to make a difference. The first step of his plan was a plague that made God say, "I wish I'd thought of that." He trapped slimes in a house and started firing purple potions (weak alchemical grenades) at them. Since slimes regenerate health, split when damaged, and are able to stack (have multiple enemies in one spot), he generated a house full of exponential slime. Then he opened the door.
It was Steve McQueen's worst nightmare. The land was buried in slimes 100 deep, killing everyone on the server, and then killing the server too. The next day, Chrae demanded a ransom or he'd do it again. People laughed at him, which was pretty brave, given that their universe had crashed the day before ... So he did it again. The day after that, the developers announced that slimes would no longer split when struck. It was a rare case of one man's dickery making a virtual world a better place.
Online gamers are MacGyvers of murder. There is nothing they can't improvise into death and grief, an art perfected by Fansy the Famous when he inverted a rule preventing high-level players from bullying beginners into genocide. The Sullon Zek server was an infamous "no rules" haven of exploits until Fansy made it cry uncle. The server was 70 percent evil and 20 percent neutral, turning the usual epic battle between good and evil into a circle-stomp on good's weeping face. Every fight went the way combat between an army of evil and a few lone heroes would actually go.
Fansy was a Level 5 good bard -- in EverQuest, that meant he was barely potty-trained and at such a low level that other players couldn't attack him. His only combat ability was running faster than a group of lumbering Sand Giants. But Fansy had a plan. He realized that his simple, intimidating power could be turned into a devastating weapon to kill everyone, everywhere. In the middle of a battle that he had no right surviving for more than a minute, Fansy provoked two dozen Sand Giants into attacking him. This probably looked profoundly stupid to anyone who bothered to pay attention, since Sand Giants can kill everything. And then Fansy started running. What he'd realized is that Sand Giants can only kill what they can catch. And since he was one of the only things in the game that didn't fall under that category, he could kill everything by using the Sand Giants that were chasing after him. Fansy annihilated vast swathes of the server by running away at them.
You'll notice that one giant is 1) 20 times the size of a player and 2) screwing that entire building.
But Fansy's true exploit was making sure his victims deserved it. He'd wandered around the "no rules" server like a fantasy Forrest Gump: being nice to people, wearing bright colors, and being called Fansy, ensuring that everyone had called him a -- well, you know what they fucking called him -- at least twice. Then he unleashed vengeance with a vast conga line of burly giants pounding everyone's asses. At which point the cool evil players suddenly decided "no rules" was unfair and whined until moderators arrived. The first moderator to show up said "cool," reminded Fansy there were no rules, and enjoyed watching him do it.
The second moderator asked him to stop, based on a rule on the no rules server (which hadn't existed earlier that day), and Fansy acquiesced. All someone had to do was ask nicely! Which no one on Sullon Zek had tried, although they had tried calling him a no-life 12-year-old basement-dwelling slur. It's a little strange that people playing a fantasy game would hate him so much, since he's basically recreated the the exact plot of Lord Of The Rings for them: a small, underpowered idiot using unkillable allies to defeat a land of evil. We're sure the irony wasn't lost on Fansy, and that he was just too nice to point it out.
Asheron's Call's Shard Of Harry
The entire history of mythology is unrelenting douchebaggery, from heroes deciding that murder is cool as long as the victims are a different race to gods bending cosmic forces to screw over someone who forgot to say thanks once. And on Asheron's Call's Thistledown server, one group transcended this divine dickishness to become legend. The game ran a year-long story triggered by players shattering precious crystals, because chasing shiny objects and killing things are all MMO gamers ever do. Unless you want them to, in which case they'll do the exact opposite.
The "Defenders of the Shard" set up camp around the sixth and final crystal, the Shard of the Herald, the prison of Bael' Zhaeron, Hopeslayer. Also, they nicknamed it Harry. 24 hours a day they defended it against other players and sacrificed themselves to it, because Asheron's Call monsters can level up by killing players. The Harry Krishnas impaled themselves on His Spikiness until He was practically invincible. This one group was holding up the next update for every server of the entire game. The developers, in the awesome manner of movie bad guys, stepped in to fight the players on their own level. Instead of simply rewriting the crystal as gone, they appeared in-game as mythical characters and called two high-level players to join their attack. These players had completed an earlier quest making them indebted to the story's cause, but brilliantly, one had already defected and was now a Disciple of Harry.
Emases Street, working together to make sure NOBODY plays.
The admins donned their epic weapons, sallied forth ... and promptly got their asses kicked. They were killed by their own players in a world they'd built, making this officially a science fiction movie. 20 Turbine staff watching on a break room screen were treated to players jumping up and down on the admins' corpses. Because Asheron's Call doesn't have a crouch button. Worse, Harry had resisted command-level instructions to power down. The staff joked that He had attained sentience. Understand: If a computer program ever escapes and kills us, it won't be because of the military. It'll be because gamers trained it to. The staff tried again. And again. The third time, they got lucky in their own game, and instead of banning people, they paid tribute to their valiant foes. The Thistledown server got a unique monument, the "Shard Vigil Memorial," honoring the players who had kicked the company's ass for so long.
Crowd Control Productions (CCP) infamously lives up to its name with EVE Online, a spacefaring game wherein people pay to plug into a computer to pretend to work for simulated corporations. You could say the company has a dedicated fanbase, but only because clicking on the player agreement means it's legally not slavery.
In an act of diabolical genius, CCP created its own currency without all the problems of being declared a rogue state or arrested by the Icelandic Ministry of the Interior. They set up PLEX (Pilot Licence EXtensions), with which you can convert fake game money into 30 days of extra playing time. With a cash value of $15. So now players can work in the game to be allowed to continue to work in the game. It's the closest humanity has come to the Matrix. They invented their own world and cash currency to use there. There are drug lords with less control over their customers. And if you think this was CCP's full evil plan, they haven't even started stroking their fluffy white cat yet.
The diabolical dick move was to introduce PLEX as in-game items, meaning you could trade it and carry a cargo of real money through a universe of players out to murder you. When you destroy a ship, there's a chance its cargo will turn up in the wreckage loot -- and the word "chance" in this sentence is pretty important. Players "slickdog" and "Viktor Vegas" found a lone cargo hauler carrying 74 PLEX (worth over $1,100), and promptly blew the shit out of it. Including every single one of the dollars. Not one PLEX survived.
Over a grand was electronically vaporized, because that grand had already been paid to CCP, which professionally doesn't give a shit what happens to money after that. They've set up a system whereby they make money when other people destroy it. You can't even Occupy Jita, because you'd have to pay them for the privilege.
The Man Who WonThere are two main types of MMO. In player vs. environment (PvE), everyone's in it together, fighting the monsters. Meanwhile, in player vs. player (PvP), you can kill each other, because everyone thinks they're going to be Mad Max instead of the guy who tried to catch the razor-boomerang.
World Of Warcraft player Angwe taught them the error of their ways. He was like dropping libertarians into Somalia -- killing them with the embodiment of everything they claimed to want. He camped a bottlenecked route into Menethil Harbor, the only path to a couple of mid-level Alliance destinations, and murdered every single person who passed, every single time they tried.
There was more online rage against Angwe than against everyone who's ever been compared to Hitler combined. There is no body part he hasn't been accused of sucking, eating, being, or enjoying his mother's. He received death threats, but World Of Warcraft death threats are less worrying than fireballs, which can at least pretend to hurt something. Since Horde and Alliance players can't speak to each other via in-game chat rooms, Angwe created an Alliance account so he could listen to his victims. And in an act of combat dickery worthy of the U.S. Army Psychological Ops division, it was called "Angwespy."
He was the incarnation of PvP. People asked if he ever worked. Some wondered if he even slept. They wrote entire FAQs on how to get past him involving teleportation stones, clone characters, and leaping from a boat and swimming along the shore instead of going through the port. Players regularly went through more hassle to get past Angwe than real people did to get into America. He was less a dick than a force of nature, a landscape-altering dick deforming the entire world, like Zeus or Odin. Beating him was an achievement back before that was a thing.
So mankind aren't just the real monsters; we make the best boss characters, too!
For more gaming dick moves, check out The 7 Biggest Dick Moves in the History of Online Gaming (Updated) and A Gamer's Manifesto.
Luke McKinney's favorite tactic is maintaining Level 3 teleporters on Dustbowl while explaining how beer built civilization. He also tumbles and has a website.
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