From Pixels to People - A Retrospective on the Fallout 76 Community

[Goupil]

Source : actualité originale sur Bethesda.net

 

It began with the announcement from Todd Howard at the Bethesda E3 2018 Press Conference. In Fallout 76, “each of those players is a real person.”

A Fallout game where the world was populated by more than just myself? A veteran of other MMOs, I was immediately intrigued by the idea of collaboratively exploring a universe I knew from the Capital Wasteland and the Commonwealth. The ability to actively engage in the environments and experiences with my husband–rather than passively watching–was an immediate draw. The excitement was real, and we convinced some friends to get on board.

Cue opening music, that speech by Vault-Tec, and the moment the vault door slowly rolls open as the blinding light of the world beyond fills the screen.

Those first weeks of B.E.T.A. into the official launch were ones of hilarity and suspense. This was a new concept–capped servers with a dynamic environment–and I found myself often wondering if the next player encountered would be gunning for my junk (that 400-pound stash box filled up fast!) I agonized over using my mic in the game world, but the only way to truly engage with the experiment of Fallout in a multi-player format was to do exactly that. My small group of friends finally started using the in-game voice system and we were shocked.

As we traveled around in our Responder outfits, people chatted with us, asked questions about us, sought help or dropped junk for us. People started to tag along, join our sessions, chat about the game, and then at a point that is hard to identify, they were a part of our little group: the Fallout Five-0 New Responders.

Over five years, I watched that group grow from a handful of friends into a community that stretches across systems with so many distinct personalities, where it was no longer about pixels on the screen, but the people behind it. We grew together, developing a narrative for those who picked up the mantle of the Responders of old, and sought to try and help Appalachia find itself again. It was a cohort of creativity that sparked character growth and experience. I watched it happen as the Fallout Five-0 came together with the idea of ‘what if the Responders and Raiders went to war and the outcome would determine our fate?’ That was the Battle of Big Bend Tunnel, where an unscripted PVP match ended with the Warlord of the Vultures Raider Gang on trial. But it was more than just that moment. What sprang from this in-character battle was the Fallout Five-0 as a community itself diving fully into the realm of storytelling, collaboration, and outreach with other factions and groups.

Ultimately, what makes the Fallout Five-0 such storytellers and creators is the camaraderie–both internally with the group itself and externally with the community at large.

A community became a family, not just within my roleplaying group, but the entirety of the player-base that invested in the idea that, according to Todd Howard, “Every person and character is real.”

While I know he meant it from the angle of an online experience, it is a profound statement that is a truth regarding this community at large: we are all real and connected. I saw it in small ways in the first year when people created characters that became known for their deliberately positive, in-character interactions with others. Roleplay groups formed, mine included, exploring the idea of fully embracing the identity of characters that survived and their interactions and relationships with others. Virtual photography exploded with people searching for that perfect angle in the Mire and sharing their tips and tricks freely and enthusiastically with others.

As we became comfortable with the idea of a community that supported each other regardless of the approach we took to the game–builder or photographer, PVPer or roleplayer–I saw this community go from casual acquaintances to friends and families. We became a village of compassion and a network of support.

Before my eyes, the Fallout 76 community embraced the creativity of any who wanted to dip a toe into the irradiated waters. Podcasts, machinima, and even live theatre productions, all inspired by the community, took root and blossomed. It is not easy to release your creative project to the public out of fear of rejection, but this community has demonstrated, time after time, that they will stand behind and support those willing to invest in content creation. Not because there was some sort of secret reward; no, the members of this community did that (and still do!) because these were their friends, their neighbors in this cherished village that is the community of Fallout 76. That, I say, is quite telling.

The bonds we share in this community are not limited to our interactions in the game and what we create. This community is one of selfless compassion, and I am continuously struck by the willingness of this community to help another person. When the home of Dr. CJ Martin’s player caught fire and was destroyed, it was this community that stepped up and raised funds to help him in the rebuilding process. When Wasteland Medic’s player was about to lose her car, it was this community that intervened, and helped secure it for the future. When Ken, author of the CHAD podcast, faced insurmountable medical bills, it was this community that covered the costs.

When Greg Ballard (Gamer Redefined), a cherished friend and member of this community, unexpectedly passed away, it was this community that collectively gasped, then fell into each other’s arms to share in the grief that was both so public and so personal, and honor his memory through cooperative funding and support.

We have embraced the concept that we are a family, that support comes in many forms, and that while we may not know where Fallout 76 will take us, we do know that we have a bond with the people behind the pixels. And that’s ultimately what’s happened to all of us over five years–at some point, we stopped seeing the pixels and started seeing the people. Maybe it was through a faction we joined or a trader network we used, a podcast we heard or a machinima we watched, a GoFundMe we supported or a Fallout For Hope charity event we attended. Maybe it was when we gathered as fans last year for the anniversary across multiple locations to celebrate Fallout, or perhaps it was when we saw pictures of weddings and announcements of births for the people in this community that we call family.

Pixels are just little dots on a screen, composing various colors to create a larger, more discernible picture. I would argue that in the Fallout 76 community, pixels have become so much more: they are the multi-faceted reality of a collection of amazing people who come from all walks of life and a plethora of experiences who have embraced the idea that community means family.