As time has worn on, we have seen people join and fall of the Community Management team. While we still have older faces such as Bashiok, Lylirra, and Zarhym, they’ve added a new punching bag to the line up: Nyorloth.
What’s different about this new CM, though, is that they don’t have the broad-encompassing presence we have come to know from the team. While we’ve grown used to the snide comments from Bashiok regarding a wide swath of topics, the cynicism, teasing, sarcasm, and taunting for Nyorloth will be more or less limited to lore and story. Nyorloth, having come directly from the bowels of the creative development team, will be providing more of a foundation regarding the story – that is to say, engaging the community with the literature behind the games. I’m just glad that he recognized up-front that he will serve as a scapegoat for all those who don’t like what is going on with the lore.
At the very least, the fact that the CM team is growing indicates that they want to communicate more with their fanbase in varied ways.
- Increase the transparency of how we develop stories within our games and ancillary fiction.
- Encourage more constructive discussions of the lore, so that we may better understand your likes/dislikes in order to shape our future projects.
- To serve as a scapegoat for when something happens in the lore that you don’t like.
Again, those are just a few of the reasons I will be monitoring and posting on the Story Forums (WoW, SC, Diablo). Perhaps you will discover more reasons for my presence?
Is this a good sign for the community? People have been upset before based on the lack of blue responses. Perhaps this is will increase the number of Blizzard responses we get? While he is limited to lore and story development, it would be interesting to see the kind of posts he responds to.
Bashiok also had the honor of introducing their new team member with the following novel:
It was in the cold winter that I went through the night with the restless Community moderators to see Nyorloth; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw wailing forms buried under Global Writing Contest entries, and grinning faces hidden amidst ruins of cities. And I saw worlds battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling suns. Then the paper storm played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about paper cuts and ocular fortitude, Nyorloth drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted developer offices. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We swore to one another that the Community offices were exactly the same, and filled with purpose; and when the florescent lights sometimes do fade we curse the electric company over and over again, and laugh at the strange faces we make.
What I know of Nyorloth is his inscrutable purpose; sinisterly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the Old Gods can tell. To look upon him now I see a sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirl blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond these worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous Old Gods the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyorloth.
Nyorloth also posted a small intro for himself as well:
You seek the Truths of worlds known to you in electronic glimmers, in dreams, in song. What clumsy hand draws the line betwixt the real and the unreal; that such lines exist is the fantasy.
Let us dance to the unplayed, unheard rhythms and sing the songs that will end the world.
Poetic, but a bit self-aggrandizing. Let’s hope he’s up for the job.