Byline: P.J. Huffstutter Daily News Staff Writer
Midnight. Los Angeles. Loud, aggressive music. A glowing computer monitor. A keyboard worn smooth by twitching fingers.
For Michael Hershewe, it's just another night out chasing and shooting and slaughtering with the boys.
The 29-year-old computer marketing representative gets on line and begins searching for members of his Quake ``clan,'' a team of friends who play the uber-violent computer game. He finds one, then another, then a third.
Once united, they begin scouring the Net for certain other Quake players. These villains, Hershewe notes, dared to insult his clan on line. They tried to cheat. They stole images off Hershewe's Web site.
``It's a matter of honor,'' Hershewe said. ``We can't let them dirty our name this way.''
As the demand grows for games on the Internet, hundreds of thousands of people are playing for more than points. They kill for friendship.
For the first time, networked gaming allows shoot-'em-up fans to chat with one another. The direct interaction - albeit a text-only conversation - nurtures a thriving subculture amid all the gore.
Often violent on the surface, these computer games place modern people in a social structure that no longer exists. In this virtual world, civility is dead, but the bond of brotherhood thrives.
In the realm of games like Quake and Diablo, where fast thumbs and death reigns, players speak of alliances and following a code of honor. Blood-seeking Quake players unite in clans, while Diablo fans gather in ``guilds.'' Eager to escape the present, these people tap the past for cultural guidance and social acceptance.
``It may seem strange, but it's actually a very rational response to our digital society,'' said Johnny Wilson, editor in chief of Computer Gaming World magazine. ``It's the classic hero myth, only in a different medium. You can start at the bottom, earn respect and work your way up. With so many people working in so many tiny cubicles and staring at so many tiny screens, how many people get to be a hero these days?''
The Middle Ages flourish on the Internet, where users adopt different personae and interact on line in chat rooms. Once there, they play their parts by typing out dialogue and simple commands.
Thousands of self-described thieves and knaves, lords and ladies, champions and rogues jostle through the crowded on-line streets. They hunt for trolls, yearn for jousts and live for glory.
``A lot of the people who design the games we play today were really into Dungeons and Dragons,'' said Bayard Winthrop, vice president of business development for WebChat Broadcasting System. ``They read a little too much (J.R.R.) Tolkien and William Gibson. It's all based on very romantic notions about the past.''
That's why, Winthrop notes, it is so odd to see Quake players adopt the dreamy language of the Middle Ages. Quake, to put it mildly, is not for everyone. The goal is simple: Kill everything that moves.
Created by Id Software Inc. last year, Quake has attracted a worldwide following among those seeking a rush. The fast-shooting, trash-talking, gore-splattering game lures a predominantly male audience to its Gothic digital halls - or ``levels.''
``I love the metallic taste I get in my mouth whenever I shoot someone in the head,'' said one Quake player who claimed his name was Chainsaw. ``It's a totally heinous game.''
Other titles follow a similar path. Blizzard's Diablo, for example, features players searching different levels of a dungeon for treasure and things to destroy. Often, users attack one another for fun or profit.
Thanks to faster home computers and phone connections, as well as software programming advances, players have turned the Net into a global battleground. Once the game software is installed on their home PC, players drop into any of the hundreds of computer servers that host customized Quake levels.
More than 1,000 clans and 3,500 places to play Quake are listed on the Id Web site - http://www.idsoftware.com - while more than 500 guilds and 1,500 places to dabble with Diablo are found on the Blizzard site - http://www.blizzard.com.
The demand for these games grows each day. Jupiter Communications, a New York consulting firm specializing in Net-based issues, noted that 100,000 U.S. households played on-line games last year. The company predicts that number will jump to 7.2 million by the end of the decade.
``People like to develop identities on line, to select names that are uniquely their own,'' said Kristin Asleson, vice president and general manager of Mplayer, a Net-based game service. ``For a few hours a week, or even a day, you can disappear for a while and fight a few dragons and demons.''
D&D meets CD-ROMs
Indeed, many game experts attribute Quake's gloomy setting and Diablo's medieval tone to the Dungeons and Dragons craze of the 1970s and early '80s. The role-playing game allowed players to create imaginary worlds where their characters lived and battled. On kitchen tables, in cluttered bedrooms, away from the confused looks of their parents, kids of all ages charted foreign lands with a pad of graph paper and the roll of a 20-sided die.
The dungeon concept carried over into high-tech culture. As graphics on the Net evolved, so did the look of action-adventure and role-playing games. Instead of vivid written descriptions of a room, players move through a colorful, three-dimensional space. They don't need to read about the cracked floor and the cobwebs clinging to the doorways. They see them.
For the person who doesn't feel successful in the real world, these Balkanized cyber-communities provide a degree of recognition, status and power. That can be fulfilling, even though there's no confusion between what is real and what's not.
``After you've killed enough cyber-versions of people, the game only remains interesting if you can share the experience with someone else,'' said Rusel DeMaria, an author and game designer who lives in Boulder Creek, Calif. ``Even while we murder each other, we're social creatures at our core.''
New players looking to gain glory post challenges on the Internet newsgroup rec.games.computer.quake.misc, or contact their opponents directly. Others chat and toss verbal barbs in electronic lobbies. Loyalties are earned, teams organized and alliances formed.
``The game reflects the real world but uses different words to build its social structure,'' said Jeff Leibowitz, president of the Irvine-based game service Engaged Games Online Inc. ``There are rogues who break the rules, there are teams that work together, there are heroes that save the helpless. It's all about maintaining order in a nonphysical world.''
On-line justice, however, can be brutal. The scorned and injured can turn to the League of Bounty Hunters, a loose-knit society of expert gamers who hire themselves out as digital assassins.
Players post the name of the person they want ``killed,'' the reason for arranging the hit and a suitable reward. Bounty hunters then search the Net for this individual, blast him to bits and retrieve proof of the act. In Diablo, for example, a bounty hunter often removes a dead character's ear and carries it away.
One recent posting on the Mpath bounty board pleaded for someone to ``bring me the ears of the coward who killed me while I was helping a less fortunate player.'' The posted reward - several mythical weapons, a few mystical spells and ``as much money as you would like.''
``It's all a no-risk scenario, a safe passage from one violent reality to another,'' said Thomas DiPiero, an associate professor of visual and cultural studies at the University of Rochester, N.Y., who studies the dynamics of Net-based communities.
Added DiPiero: ``But obviously, these people are not going out and actually cutting off ears.''
On-line elitists
The power and allure of such gruesome dalliances rests on the player's ability to create alternative identities. Networked games serve as a fertile landscape for the lonely, allowing people to transcend their immediate surroundings and foster the creation of an ethereal reality. The nuances born from the players' own imaginations wield more sway than the game's actual graphic details.
When the computer is turned off, the game disappears. But the emotional connection shared between the players remains, as does their virtual identities.
``People are searching for a way to belong, to feel special and to control their destiny,'' said Wilson, the magazine editor. ``In our society, which idealizes egalitarianism, there are very few instances where people can be elitist.''
But in a game like Quake, only the elite survive. A person's on-line life span is linked to their identity and which clan they call their own. A lone player quickly dies without the protection of his on-line brethren.
``There's this need to belong that can be overwhelming,'' said Jonathan Briar, 23, who plays both action and role-playing games. ``I prove my importance to my clan by playing better and doing things to show I'm an important part of the group. I'll redesign the Web page or call up a friend to talk about strategies.''
Others rely on their noncomputer talents. A member of Hershewe's clan, the Methods of Destruction or MOD, happens to be a professional musician. He recorded an album of aggressive electronic music and sent copies to fellow MOD members.
``Now we all listen to the same music while we play,'' Hershewe said. ``It's a brotherhood thing. Unless you're part of our clan, you wouldn't understand.''
Female players found Psycho
Man Slayers
Some of the Internet's biggest bad boys are girls.
Tired of being taunted by macho men, a group of female Quake players decided last fall to form their own clan. Dubbed Psycho Man Slayers, or PMS, the founding four quickly expanded to 13 players and began cruising the testosterone-filled Quake servers in search of a match.
They challenge. They play. Most often, they win. And soon, the clan earned the grudging respect of their on-line male counterparts.
``Yes, we do exist. Yes, we do play. And yes, we are girls,'' says 14-year-old PMS member Jen Press. ``If you stop firing long enough to flirt with me, I'm going to kill you.''
Press, a top-ranked player, recently began wielding her digital shotgun semi-professionally. She usually spends at least one weekend a month traveling with the GameMasters, an elite team of Quake players that tours the U.S. performing for cash and prizes at computer trade shows.
``Most of my friends don't believe that I actually play Quake,'' said Press, who is a high school freshman. ``All they know is that I'm highly competitive. They just can't imagine me shooting a rocket launcher.''
Those who stop by their Web site - http://www.planetquake.com/pms - get greeted with the slogan ``Under every floral print dress lies a lady wearing black garters, carrying a big (expletive) gun.''
Recently, other female players have followed along the PMS path. The Sisters of Quake (http://www.ts.umu.se/(tilde)hd/quake/siq) chastise male players for being soft, while the CrackWhores (http://www.crackwhore.com) taunt users to ``challenge us if you're man enough.'' Gentlemen, they note, need not apply.
-P.J. Huffstutter
CAPTION(S):
5 Photos, Box, Chart
Photo: (1-4--Color) No caption (On-line warriors)
(5--Color) Michael Hershewe
Box: ON-LINE WARRIORS: VITAL STATISTICS
Chart: (Color) Who? The average gamer is male, college educated and between the ages of 25 and 45.
Bradford Mar/Daily News
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