MMO zones are strange places. On Coruscant just about every room is usually a cavernous hall, meant to give players the room to move between objectives without clipping through each other. On planets, the cordons that bind players to levelling zones are disguised with SWTOR Credits odd cliffs and unnatural mountain ranges. Rock formations and scattered low-poly trees take within the consistency of papier mâché. Monsters
linger in stationary clusters, carefully spaced in order to avoid players from aggroing lots of at once. I get this sort of feeling from all MMOs, that I'm exploring a static diorama produced by a piece of concept art signifying a place which may feasibly exist.
I've go to enjoy this about The Old Republic, an MMORPG that pits the MMO half from the RPG half. The down side—the mob grinding, gear fiddling, taskbar-tapping massively multiplayer part—presses uncomfortably up against the Bioware Star Wars RPG that I crave. They coexist like mortal enemies squashed into the same rush hour tube train. In-game, they're separated by the ostentatious glowing green barrier that denotes precisely where important story events should happen, and where they can be not.
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