1618: The End of a World

I’ve never been present at the end of a massively multiplayer online RPG. I’ve never even been present at the end of a beta testing period, which is usually marked by some sort of special event that, thematically, wipes the world “clean” and ensures that everyone starts on a level playing field when active service starts.

So, given Final Fantasy XIV’s curious development history — for those who don’t know, it originally launched in 2010, was heavily criticised for its numerous flaws, then closed in 2012, only to reopen as its current, completely revamped and considerably better-received form A Realm Reborn last August — I was curious to see exactly what the shutdown of the original version looked like. The shutdown of version 1.0 is crafted into the narrative of A Realm Reborn as an event in the game world known as The Calamity. During the events of The Calamity, there was a large-scale battle between the Eorzean Alliance (the three nations that player characters represent) and the Garlean Empire (the villains of the piece, who reprise their role in the main scenario of A Realm Reborn) and the moon Dalamud — actually a weapon created by the ancient Allagan Empire — was pulled down from the sky by dark magic. Dalamud broke open and revealed Bahamut, the giant and extremely pissed-off dragon god. Bahamut’s rage pretty much obliterated most of Eorzea, forever changing the landscape, but not before the heroes of Eorzea — the players of version 1.0 — were pulled into “The Rift” outside space and time, to be released only once peace had returned to the realm… or once A Realm Reborn had been released.

With that in mind, then, here’s how it went down from the perspective of several friends who apparently decided to see the apocalypse through together.

Although a simple event — it’s just players standing around with some haunting music playing in the background for much of the video above — it genuinely feels like something momentous is coming to an end; like the world is really ending. The players know there’s nothing they can do about it; they know that their (virtual) lives are shortly coming to an end, so all there is to do is to spend their final moments in the company of people that are important to them.

Watching the video made me want to shed a few tears, even though I didn’t know the people involved. The quiet melancholy of the scene was surprisingly touching; as the time until the end of the world ticked down, the gathered friends started using their emotes and aesthetic items — fireworks and the like — to mark the end of their time together as a celebration, not a tragedy. Strange server messages started punctuating the chat log, and someone in the area was counting down the minutes until the switch was flipped and Eorzea would cease to be — at least temporarily.

Then, eventually, it happened; the world ended. It was marked not with a huge cataclysm in the game world, but with a simple change to a tiny element of the on-screen interface: the data transfer meter in the top-right corner of the screen changed from green to red, and the “R” number, indicating the rate at which data was being received by the player’s client software from the game servers, dropped to zero. There was a moment of quiet as nothing happened — nothing could happen, as client and server were no longer communicating with one another — and then a black screen and a loading break, followed by the spectacular cutscene that closed Final Fantasy XIV’s initial incarnation once and for all — and which also opened A Realm Reborn.

Prior to last August, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what sitting through an event like this must be like for people who have been actively playing the game which it concluded — flawed or otherwise. Now, I can’t help but think the whole thing would be an absolutely heartbreaking experience; although true friendships will persist outside of the game in which they were, in many cases, forged, the next time you see those people — whether it’s in reality or in a new game altogether — they’ll likely be very different. And those elusive moments you had together in your previous forms will be forever be trapped in the past — but they’ll live on in your memories, as trite as that might sound.

I hope A Realm Reborn stays healthy and lively for many years to come yet — at its current rate, things are going to be fine for quite some time, I’d say, thankfully — but when it eventually does come to an end, I hope I have the opportunity to see its final moments through with those whom I’ve come to know through playing. We’ll laugh, we’ll cry, we’ll perform the Manderville, we’ll set off fireworks — whatever we do, I can see it being a special but sad moment that will live with each of us in a way that very few other video games will be able to replicate. (Unless they’re another long-running MMO, of course.)

Still, let’s not be melancholy; patch 2.3 of A Realm Reborn is coming early next month, and it’s bringing with it a continuation to the game’s excellent and enjoyable story plus a whole host of other content. I and my Free Company are really looking forward to it — and if you’re interested in joining, may I point out that it’s currently available at a discount on PC as part of the Steam Sale?

I’ll see you on the Ultros server, non?