I remember my 30th anniversary of life. Friends surrounded me and showed me a day of awesome fun, surprises galore and a ton of dangerous food. It cemented that the number ‘30’ is a good number. A solid number. A respectable number.
A hefty portion of those three decades involved the Warcraft franchise in one way or another. Whether I was ferreting around a horde of pixelated axe-throwers, having my best mates’ Mum teach me the finer points of a ‘Tree of Life’ rush, or wondering just how much DPS gear was too much for tanking a dungeon, it was a constant point of interest in my life. Throughout the phases of my existence, some form of Warcraft was seemingly always present – like one those mates that threw me a sweet thirtieth. Hell, I share a ton of my Warcraft experiences with those mates.
So, 30 years of Warcraft should have a similar celebration, right?
Fortress Sydney was the destination – the place was transformed into an altar for all things Warcraft, with myself attending as both an old salt of Azeroth and as a set of journalistic eyes. Not many franchises get to celebrate a 30th birthday, so I was keen to see how it all comes together.
And the party analog sticks pretty well – given that it was a night of food, drink, music and games. Guests were given lanyards to write their gaming moniker on, a massive guest book was available for people to sign and share a thought …you could even get a baseball cap designed to your tastes, be it faction-specific or just flavoured to your particular brand of Warcraft celebration.
For those wishing to get up close to a Warcraft developer, this was their chance – like a micro-BlizzCon right in their own backyard. No panels, just a queue and the choice of four people who have been elbow deep in the myriad incarnations of the game. Some in attendance questioned why there was no big presentation, but it falls back on the real purpose of the event – this wasn’t a roadshow, it was a party.
Pumpers only, clearly
Much like the game world itself, this was the kind of party all walks of life could attend – being a free event, the only things that decided your fate to get in on the action was scoring one of the free tickets, and finding yourself in proximity of Fortress Sydney at this time. Doesn’t matter if you are a mythic raider, a lore junkie, a twitch streamer or a humble mount collector – you are among peers in this place. Everyone had something in common.
What stood out to me was the main vibe of the event – one centred around community. Sure, it was Blizzard’s party – it was Warcraft’s birthday after all – but everyone in attendance wasn’t really there for Warcraft, they were there because of it. I mingled and chatted with all manner of players, from every spectrum mentioned above, and there was always some facet of their history with Warcraft that suggested it was far more than a fun way to waste time bashing Orcs and Night Elves upside the head.
Some had met their partner in the game. Others had formed friendships that would last a lifetime. Others had found support in their darkest moments – when all else felt lost. Chatting even briefly to a huge bloke named …well, ‘Hugebloke’ (Leif Wilson) gave me insight into Club Titos, a social club that does more than just enjoy each others company – they serve as a mobile ‘inclusion nexus’, suiting up in orange and white and dispensing friendly company to any that might be feeling a little lost. From their history, they have overtly saved at least one life with their weapons-grade ministration – and likely countless others that never ended up reaching the edge of despair. And all this was born from a BlizzCon panic attack.
It could be argued every community has its fair share of heart-warming stories, but Warcraft has sheer volume. Three entire decades absolutely contributes to this in a massive way – but there is also the simple fact that this series really has offered so many things to so many people. Whether it is was their first MMO, an RTS that had them googling what ‘APM’ meant or even making the idea of travelling thousands of miles to attend a convention that is entirely dedicated to just one company’s games an attractive option, the macrocosm of people impacted and engaged with it all is staggering.
And here, under this impressive Sydney roof, I feel connected to every one of them. My exposure to Warcraft started when a friend installed Tides of Darkness on the family computer and I was dismayed when I realised I needed the disc to play. Decades later, I find myself with a daughter named after a Warcraft hero, more than a few emcee duties at guild members’ weddings under my belt and my very own BlizzCon story to share.
The magic is there. It is real. And in that moment, surrounded by people who have felt it too, it’s a great deal more than just a game.
Here’s to thirty years of Warcraft.
