# Analysis LLMS index: [llms.txt](/dvw/en/llms.txt) --- Conjecture: Playing virtual worlds is a kind of hill-climbing activity through identity space; the hero’s journey is an algorithm for finding a very good local maximum, if not necessarily a global one. I believe that the hero’s journey does directly apply to player development in virtual worlds. However, the fit is not exact. Given that the hero’s journey has evolved independently in all cultures through the millennia, should some effort be made to try and make the fit better? Or is the fit not exact because in truth it isn’t a fit at all? I’ll go through what I perceive to be the main issues. This is all speculative; see what you think: - The belly of the whale. Although it’s fine to identify the character creation screen as “womb-like” in its effect, normally a myth would have something that was suggestive of a womb in appearance, too. A cave, a pit, a log cabin, a belly of a whale…. Would making character creation take place in such an environment speak more deeply to players’ subconsciousnesses? Or does the fact it’s called “character creation” do away with the need for such symbolism as it’s pretty obvious what’s happening anyway? - The meeting with the goddess. It’s very tempting to equate the addiction that many players feel about virtual worlds with the “unconditional love” metaphor here, but sadly it doesn’t work. Not only does addiction share none of the qualities that unconditional love is meant to symbolize, but it doesn’t really bite until the next stage anyway, where the player gets to use their new-found powers. That said, then, what is the virtual world’s equivalent of “unconditional love?” The goddess could be a player’s guide or a web site or some other fount of knowledge, but where does love come in? It’s a very common metaphor in myth. - Woman as temptress. This is a stage that all players go through, but it’s not really any more special than the transition from griefer/opportunist to networker/ scientist. If we lost lots of players here who decided that now they know the rules they don’t want to play, fair enough; but we don’t. Why is this step important for the hero’s journey but less important (although still present) in player development terms? - Atonement with the father (I). The mere existence of this step suggests that the player’s presence in the virtual world must come to an end; players need the closure, they can’t go on forever. This is not something with which the developers of virtual worlds would necessarily concur. They don’t want players to leave [^93], so they continually add new content—thereby denying atonement and initiation. In such circumstances, players have huge difficulties satisfactorily completing their hero’s journey: They can only do so by rejecting the father (who has rejected them), which is not pleasant. - Atonement with the father (II). Atonement implies that acceptance isn’t automatic: The player must “deserve” it. This is where a PD world delivers and a non-PD one doesn’t. If success is guaranteed with time, acceptance isn’t in question. - Atonement with the father (III). Virtual worlds can only measure tangible things. For planner-type achievers this is easy enough (experience levels, skill levels, possessions, and so on), but for politician-type socializers, how do they gain final acceptance by the designer? - Atonement with the father (IV). What happens when control of the virtual world is wrested from the design team and handed to, say, the marketing or the community service group? An individual can act as a foster-father figure, but they didn’t actually create the virtual world. Has the father abandoned the hero? - The ultimate boon. The reason that most virtual worlds don’t have this is because developers don’t want people to leave. Although some players may accept the inevitability of their departure, most developers don’t. It wouldn’t be hard to give players recognition either within the virtual world or without it; indeed, some virtual worlds do this [^94]. It doesn’t have to be the player’s ticket home, but it should be something special that players can only ever obtain once. - The magic flight (I). Without a boon, this still sort of goes to plan: Players try to leave against the wishes of the guardians of the virtual world. With a boon, the magic flight would perhaps work counter to this. It’s easy to see how forcing a player to retire would lead to attempts by that player to continue to play. Secondary accounts would be opened then closed, attempts to masquerade as a new player would be made then detected, and so on until eventually the player would get the message and stay away. This is not how magical flights normally work! Heroes will usually have to break out of the new world to reach the old, rather than be stuck in the old because they fail to break back into the new. - The magic flight (II). If players don’t leave, does not their continuing presence interfere with the progress of other players? Can heaven become full? Doesn’t the sheer number of heroes still wandering around debase the currency of heroism [^95]? Perhaps trying to keep players involved indefinitely is actually bad for a virtual world in the long term? - Master of the two worlds. The keepers of the virtual world can’t give anything to the player that is of material use or value in the real world because people will cheat to get it (imagine what would happen if there were a substantial cash prize for reaching the level cap, for example). Unlike the new world of myth, people really can enter virtual worlds; what’s more, they can visit it with their buddies and bring out boons by the truckload. Players take from the virtual world the confidence, self-esteem, friendships, and life skills they picked up there, but that’s all that’s of any use. It’s up to them what they do with these. - General. Players can achieve immersion without following all these steps. If there is no formal end-point, for example, that doesn’t stop people from reaching full immersion; it might be harder or more frustrating for them, but they can still do it. This may be a template for a hero’s journey, but you can become a hero by following your own path, too. You don’t have to leave a virtual world if you don’t want to (they’re just places, after all), but for some people it’s a necessary closure. Is denying an exit—through the design of the world—therefore immoral? As you’ve probably come to expect now, this is discussed later in Chapter 8. Not everyone can complete the hero’s journey; not everyone can be—or wants to be—a hero. People can and do stop beforehand; some may even be heroes before they start. Everyone can try to be a hero, though, and a well-designed virtual world gives them a better chance of succeeding than almost anything else available to ordinary people. The critical thing is, although you can do heroic deeds in the virtual world, you have to leave for them to count. You visit the virtual world to become a hero, but you can only be a hero in the real one. The virtual world is a part of the real world. Warriors are only heroes when the battle is over. While the battle is raging, they’re just trying to stay alive. [^93]: Commercial virtual worlds are particularly keen on keeping players. [^94]: MUD1 listed the names of its wizzes on tombs in a graveyard. MUD2 also does this, and gives out wiz manuals and other goodies to people who get this far, too. [^95]: This is the “when every one is somebodee” argument again.