By David Ho
When I told my editor about an upcoming press conference inside the online sword and sorcery game World of Warcraft and he suggested I attend, my first thought was: How do I explain this one on my expense form?
The event held last week by the software firm Socialtext Inc. parodied the increasing number of corporate news events held in Second Life, a virtual Internet world. Some technology reporters and bloggers have criticized that trend, noting the hassle and technical learning curve needed to participate.
As no stranger to computers and video games, I wasn't scared off. But as the parent of a toddler, my game consoles have more dust than high scores these days.
My best training for this assignment predated the Internet's coming out party, when "high-speed connection" meant a plodding modem that makes today's dial-up seem cheetah-like. There was no Web, just text-only bulletin board systems where a couple dozen people could call in to a computer at someone's house.
In that world, fantasy gaming's cutting edge was BladeMaster, a gladiator game where two players fought with swords and creative weapons such as the "Trident of Agony." Graphics were the real fantasy -- the square arena was sketched with zeros while letters and dashes represented clashing players.
Today, Warcraft's vast 3-D animated mayhem enthralls millions of players around the world.
My press conference preparations began with a 2-hour software download. I registered for a free trial (Whew. No expense report.) and created my character, a night elf hunter named Coxneus with glowing eyes, curved Bugs Bunny ears and a hairstyle familiar to those who know me.
While only skimming the instructions, I took my "training" seriously. I had to learn to move, converse with others and, most importantly, keep myself from being swallowed by horrific, drooling beasts before the Q&A.
Socialtext promised powerful high-level characters would defend vulnerable reporters from orc attacks and other misfortune, but I wasn't taking chances.
So I did what players call getting "leveled up," gaining strength and skills by spending several hours going on quests and slaying giant hairy spiders and bear-like monsters that scurry off when you have them beat. I did a fair amount of running away myself.
It reminded me of preparations I've made for some other press events. Well, sort of.
By conference time, I'd reached Level 9 (of 60) and had exchanged starter rags for more fashionable leather armor.
While sitting in the game waiting to be called to the press event, another elf invited me to fight monsters in a cave while retrieving a mystic feather. I didn't reply: "Sorry, I'm waiting to report on a news conference from a collaborative software company."
But I should have.
After accepting a summons, my hosts teleported me across the game planet to the Twilight Grove, a raised stone platform in a spooky forest with a giant glowing green portal looming nearby. It was a dangerous place far above my elf's pay grade.
Socialtext CEO Ross Mayfield met me there as his heavily armored and armed character Master Sergeant Kalevipoeg.
Perhaps becoming the envy of countless executives who host press conferences, he said he hoped the dragon beyond the portal would come out and kill everyone before we left.
Dwarves, gnomes and humans arrived on horseback, flew to the site or beamed in Star Trek style.
How many of them were the bloggers and reporters who RSVP'd and not just Mayfield's gamer friends was hard to tell. The closest thing to a press pass was the ethereal IDs floating above characters showing names like "Snowchyld" and "Jillexi."
A few entry-level characters in the crowd made me feel like a pro, but advanced players who could slay my elf by breathing hard were everywhere.
Fortunately, I was not in "player versus player" mode, meaning the others could not attack me without my consent. I wanted to avoid being slain, becoming a ghost and missing good quotes as I meandered back to my body.
The news conference started late, showing that some things are universal even in a virtual world.
I served as both reporter and photographer, using my keyboard to snap screenshots of waiting attendees dueling, casting iridescent spells and joking through chat messages.
"Let's bring this press conference to disorder," Mayfield's character said. And when a Level 60 paladin with a sword called the "Obsidian Edged Blade" nearly as big as he is speaks, you listen.
Mayfield, who announced a company developer contest and an online Warcraft book, admitted the whole idea for the news conference started as a joke but evolved into "experimental theater."
One attendee wanted to ask Mayfield about the "wiki" collaborative Web site concept, but had to duel him for an answer. Clashing swords and colorful explosions ensued.
I scrambled for position to get close-up images while avoiding being hacked and slashed-- also not that different from some real-life press conferences.
Keeping my virtual hand on my virtual bow, I carefully asked about how this experience compares to Second Life's news conferences. I got real answers and was spared certain defeat in a ridiculously mismatched fight. Darn it.
Later, while I organized my notes in New York and my character stood quietly amid the post-event networking and sword fights, Mayfield asked if I needed help leaving.
Being the adventurous reporter (and doubting I'd get this far in the game anytime soon), I said I'd explore a bit before using a magic stone to zap my elf home.
A gnome said ominously that this was a high-level region and if I wandered off I "would die very quickly."
So Mayfield's paladin and the gnome escorted me on a brisk run through some woods and countryside. I felt like a child having my hand held through the wonders and horrors of my first field trip.
It was a good thing, too. Giant wolf and spider things snacked on me on the way.
"help," I typed frantically at one point.
Without my host's healing magic, I would have filed my story post-mortem.
Reaching the relative safety of Stormwind City, the gnome laughed and said: "You don't see many 9th level night elves here." Or reporters apparently.
So now I'm left with some ethical quandaries:
-- Is it OK to shoot a reluctant source with an enchanted arrow?
-- Is it inappropriate to accept teleportation to an advanced location, the equivalent of getting a lift on a corporate jet to an exotic locale?
-- Is accepting an executive's healing spell more egregious than eating bagels provided at a news conference?
-- Would my bosses foot the bill for teleportation costs or require me to fly coach on the back of a gryphon?
Perhaps my biggest decision: do I pay a monthly fee to keep playing this addictive game?
As I hear my son dashing about nearby I think I know the answer -- some realities deserve more attention than others.
But maybe a little more Warcraft wouldn't hurt.