No Money Down
EverQuest was my first MMO and -- for pint-sized imp creature me -- it was a revelation. That said, my first steps were anything but graceful, with everything from the smallest giant rat to the most gigantic Sand Giant beating my character to a polygonal pulp for even the most elementary of mistakes. EverQuest treated me like a dumb puppy, except it tossed out the rolled-up newspaper in favor of a comically oversized frying pan. It didn't make learning easy, but man, that stuff stuck with me. And I got by with a little help from my friends.
Yep, the first enemies are still rats. Ah, it's good to be back.
Fast forward 11 years, as I began my journey by surveying the emaciated remains of EverQuest's character creation screen. Four races, four classes. If I wanted to go for something spicier than the rather vanilla warrior, rogue, cleric, and wizard selection, I'd have to pony up. First, though, I rolled a barbarian warrior and dove headfirst into... a multi-hour tutorial? Happily, the opening labyrinth of text, tunnels, and no David Bowie was entirely skippable, but it was my first sour whiff of EverQuest's shaky attempt at a new direction. Where once EverQuest encouraged group play by necessity, it's now a series of slightly more challenging, infinitely more tedious WoW-style quests. "Kill 25 spiders," "plant bombs on supply crates," "collect teeth from a race of mutant toothless panthers." You know the drill.
After about 40 minutes of play, I got a pop-up ad -- you know, like those things that used to coat the Internet until Al Gore defeated their leader in single combat.
The second whiff of something fishy carried a far more sinister odor. After about 40 minutes of play, I got a pop-up ad -- you know, like those things that used to coat the Internet until Al Gore defeated their leader in single combat. -- suggesting that it'd be really, really great if I upgraded to a Gold membership. "Extra character and backpack slots!" it proudly announced. "Hire more powerful mercenary NPCs, create guilds, and send mail." Honestly, though, I'd have been sold if it simply said, "Make these damn pop-ups stop flinging a wrench into this already awkward interface every 40 minutes." That's not to say I didn't have some fun as a free player. After 18 expansions' worth of content (17 of which are free), EverQuest's zone count clocks in at roughly half a thousand, which meant that -- with the help of a handy, organized-by-level Zone Finder -- a fresh change of scenery was always just a short hike away.
EverQuest has gotten softer in its old age, but it's still a dangerous place.
In fact, once my warrior dinged level 15 after 12 or so hours of play (Blasphemy! That took me weeks back in 2001), I got tired of solo-slogging my way past players who -- thanks to the aforementioned easily rentable NPC mercenaries -- had no interest in grouping up to quest. My solution? I broke out my world map and charted a course to all my favorite zones from the Shadows of Luclin and Scars of Velious days. Honestly, as far nostalgia trips go, that's tough to beat. Sightseeing in higher-level areas, however, proved difficult, since all of virtual nature's majesty wanted nothing more than to turn me into the world's first Swiss cheese pincushion.
Insert Coin
Naturally, I slowly unsheathed my wallet. Nickles, dimes, and a hotel card I never threw away glistened under the cool spring sun. Somewhere, a crowd gasped about something unrelated. First, I bought a full set of stat-boosting armor that scaled based on level for a sale price of $3 (normally it goes for $5). It actually didn't do much, seeing as the one-size-fits-all-classes set lavished bards with special attention, but only gave my warrior a modest armor-stat bump.
But then I found a way to sort of break the game. Keeping with my travel theme, I decided to drop $9.50 on a coal-black winged stallion. According to the description, my majestic sky-steed was supposed to hover slightly above ground. And it did -- so long as I was on completely level ground. On inclines, though, It steadily climbed to roughly 25 feet -- high enough, in other words, soar right over enemies and tickle the toes of the gods themselves. Needless to say, I air-galloped over large portions of zones that would've swallowed me whole had I so much as placed a pinky-hoof on solid ground.
And you say I can also get a free 30-day trial of AOL? Hot dog!
At $15 per month, it's just as pricey as the likes of WoW, Rift, and SWTOR.
And, of course, there's still the pop-up-powered elephant in the room: Gold tier. At $15 per month, it's just as pricey as the likes of WoW, Rift, and SWTOR, but it does net you access to all 16 races and classes, all spell ranks, 10 bag slots by default, five tiers of mercenaries (free players only get two), eight character slots per server, unlimited alternate ability unlocks, guild creation, mail sending and receiving, prestige items, and perhaps most importantly of all, access to time locked progression servers, which are basically classic EverQuest -- gradual unlocking of expansion packs and all. Also, it does, in fact, make the pop-ups go away -- hopefully to some nightmarish realm of eternal pain and Two-and-a-Half Men reruns. Then there's Silver, which is a permanent upgrade that requires a one-time fee of $5. Basically, it's just the free tier with some slight perks -- namely, four character slots per server, six bag slots per character, guild creation, 1,000 alternate abilities, and 15 active quests as opposed to Free's 10. The short version? Silver and Free are fine for dabbling, but Gold's awfully attractive for those planning an extended stay. Alternate abilities and prestige items, especially, are musts for advancing high-level characters, and snagging classes individually can turn EverQuest into a piggy bank's Everest at $7.50 per purchase.
Moreover, while the Fippy Darkpaw and Vulak'Aerr time locked progression servers aren't perfect reproductions of old-school EQ (they still have updated zones, different stats, slower but still accelerated experience gain, etc), they're excellent throwbacks that lock mercenaries, de-emphasize questing, and make group play a far more appealing prospect. Unfortunately, in my experience, a lot of lower level zones were basically ghost towns, as high-end raid drama -- just like in EverQuest's heyday -- is the main event on those servers.
My snazzy GameSpy green armor brightens up even the most puma-filled of caves.
Happily, the remainder of the store is stocked with cosmetic items and minor, four-hour boosts to stats like speed, mana/health regen, and stamina at $1 a pop. I used an Iksar monk as a guinea pig for some of Norrath's most illicit performance-enhancing drugs, and the differences were noticeable but hardly game-changing. The speed potion made his fists ever-so-slightly more furious, and the stamina potion helped him withstand a few extra blows.
Free or Flee?
With 17 expansions open from the get-go, it's hard to deny the value in EverQuest's free tier. It has, however, evolved into a rather slow and -- at times -- tedious solo-friendly experience, and many of the more interesting classes and options (for instance, retro throwback progression servers) are hidden behind a curtain of cash. And in-game ad pop-ups? Inexcusable.