Death is a Serious Matter

Since I started at Fenris Creations (formerly CCP Games), two mottos have followed me: “We create virtual worlds more meaningful than real life” and “Death is a serious matter”.

The former is the long-standing mission of the company. The latter is a fundamental design philosophy for EVE Online. I’ve always grasped the idea and agreed with the direction, but for the past month, I’ve been thinking about the importance of death being serious in a video game.

Some game developers choose to remove friction by making death irrelevant. Not that I think it’s a bad design, but it really makes you think about the experience you want to create for players.

In EVE Online, and in EVE Frontier, death costs everything. The feeling that a mistake, a misunderstanding, an oversight or simply bad luck can erase what you’ve been grinding for hours, weeks or even months. Does that make players feel more attached to their in-game journey? Does it make this world more meaningful than a world where death isn’t serious?

If you ask EVE Frontier players, they’ll probably tell you that it gives meaning, attachment and value to their experience. Maybe what creates worlds more meaningful than real life is a serious, finite death.

There is another world, where death is serious, which you’re all familiar with: the real world. Turns out the designers didn't invent anything. They copied the oldest rule in existence: things matter because you can lose them, and life is the original example of this design. Everything precious, like a night out, a phone call or a person, feels that way because it won't come back.

The finiteness of life is invisible to most, because you don’t grasp it unless you’re confronted with it.

Any drive to the Italian grocery shop could be the last one. What if tonight was the last time I saw this family member? What if now is the last occasion to tell them I love them?

In the past weeks, I have been confronted with that finiteness, and what it taught me is that nothing must be taken for granted. If something feels missing, that just means what you've lost was valuable.

Everything has an end, which we can't foresee. And when I thought I was prepared, I was totally wrong. No matter how long you know about it, you’re never truly prepared for such an event. I don’t want to live with regrets. There is sometimes no goodbye. There is sometimes no “we’ll do that later”. Sometimes there is only a tragic end.

Could I have done things differently? Probably. Could I have prepared for it? Maybe. The only way is forward. Now I live with the memories and I cherish them.

But the hard truth is that you can’t get it back. You won’t get back those early-morning messages wishing you a good day. You won’t see those half-closed eyes, that smile, that chuckle.

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From the bottom of my heart, for both of you I’ve always looked up to, I miss you and I wish I had spent more time with you.