1451: Learning to be a Better Virtual Person

Contemplating my time in the virtual realm of Eorzea so far, I feel that Final Fantasy XIV has had something of a positive effect on my mental wellbeing in a number of ways. I also acknowledge that it brings with it its own problems and considerations — primarily the fact that what is one of its best qualities — its inherently social nature — is also something that makes it compelling and addictive, and consequently distracts from other things. As with anything, it’s all about finding a good balance.

But I don’t want to focus too much on the less positive aspects of the experience because they’re all things that can be solved with a degree of self-control and discipline. What I instead want to focus on is, as I mentioned at the beginning, the positive impact it’s had on me.

I started playing Final Fantasy XIV’s new version A Realm Reborn for several reasons: I’d been curious about it for a while, but had never played the much-maligned version 1.0; I’d enjoyed my time in Final Fantasy XI, but had never got that far; and someone I knew via a combination of Twitter, 1up and possibly some other places around the Web too invited me to come and play with a group of like-minded somewhat casual players who were in it to have fun rather than become the sort of people who run tightly-regimented raids and complain about “noobs”.

When I fired up the closed beta version of the game, I was instantly smitten, and my love for the game only continued to deepen as the closed beta became open beta, and open beta became live service — with significant, noticeable improvements along the way. But what keeps me playing day after day is the fact that the people whom my friend invited me to come and play with have turned out to also be extremely pleasant virtual company — and while I don’t know very much (or indeed anything) about their real-life selves in many cases, in the land of Eorzea I most certainly consider them to be friends.

The growth of these friendships has not only helped me from the simple perspective of making friends and having a reliable group of people to interact and play with every time I log on, but it’s also helped me to build up my own confidence slowly and gradually.

As longtime readers will know, I struggle somewhat with social anxiety, particularly from an assertiveness perspective. Even when I’m among friends, family or other people I trust, I find it difficult to be truly assertive and say what I’m thinking or what I want. And indeed I often find myself acting the same way in online games — I find myself apologising in advance for messing things up, or not knowing how something works, or not being as familiar with the challenges ahead as more experienced players.

Over time with FFXIV, however, I’ve noticed myself changing somewhat. Whereas a month or two ago I’d respond to a guildmate’s request for companions to take on a dungeon or boss fight with an “I’ll come if you’ve got room for me” or “I’ll come if you don’t mind a newbie coming along” whereas now I feel a lot more confident in stepping forward right away without qualifiers. I’ve even stepped up and led my own expeditions into particular dungeons, or helped provide the impetus for a group excursion into more challenging content by expressing my desire to see it.

There was still the question of strangers to conquer, though. Final Fantasy XIV features a system called the Duty Finder whereby you can queue up to play the multiplayer content by yourself or with friends, then get matched up with other people to fill the spare slots in your party. For someone with anxiety issues about meeting new people and disappointing them, this is a daunting prospect, but again over time I’ve noticed myself changing. I’ve not only been happy to queue for the level 50 dungeons I now know quite well by myself, I’ve become more confident at stepping into the “Duty Roulette” option to challenge a random dungeon with a group of random strangers.

Not only that, but I’ve started experimenting with party roles other than my traditionally-held post of black mage — a damage-dealing class that specialises in standing back from the main melee, flinging spells, killing monsters and trying not to draw the attention of the more powerful enemies. No, while I still consider Black Mage to be my “main” class — largely because it’s the one I’ve spent most time with, feel most attached to and have consequently kitted out the best — I’ve been having a lot of fun with playing as a healer, though I haven’t yet got to the dungeons where it’s a significant challenge to be the healer, and this evening I tried tanking for the first time.

Tanking is a particularly daunting prospect in a game like this because you become the de facto leader of the party. You’re the one who goes up front; you’re the one who starts fights; you’re the one who’s supposed to protect everyone else. The tank has important responsibilities — ensure you maintain the attention of the monsters, and don’t die. A tank is generally expected to know what they’re doing but, of course, everyone has to begin somewhere.

I’d levelled Final Fantasy XIV’s “Gladiator” class to level 15 previously, which is the earliest point at which you can take on the game’s multiplayer dungeons. But I’d never yet had the courage to step into a dungeon and lead one like a proper tank. The prospect was scary; I was worried about doing a bad job and getting yelled at by my fellow party members. And as such, I’d put it off.

This evening, however, I formed a party with my “real life” friend and board-gaming buddy James, who’s recently started playing, and another guildmate who agreed to come along. That only left one slot for strangers, and that helped me feel a bit more confident about using our run through the game’s first dungeon as a learning experience.

It didn’t start well; I died at the first monster, but that was because James was busy figuring out important healer things like how to target me and how to cast curative magic on me, not himself. As we progressed through the dungeon, I felt myself getting the hang of what was expected of me — still hesitant and keen to get the advice of my comrades, but more confident about being the one standing at the front. By the time we reached the end and successfully beat the boss, I felt like I’d happily take on that challenge again — though I couldn’t resist a quick apology to the lone stranger in our party — who was also something of a newbie, as it happened — for my “incompetence”.

“It’s cool,” she said. “We made it through, and that’s all that matters.”

As any social anxiety sufferer will tell you, the reality of a situation that’s been a considerable source of anxiety to you is rarely anything even a little bit like what you’ve built it up to be in your head. And that’s something that Final Fantasy XIV is helping me remember more regularly.