Do Private Servers Benefit Or Harm MMORPGs?

Thanks to debilitating internet speeds and a 4GB hard drive I arrived late to the MMORPG scene. A brand new Dell Pentium II one Christmas finally let me join my friends in Ragnarok Online. But we didn’t slaughter porings together on Gravity’s official server. A friend hosted a private server from his basement, where we each competed to see who could grind the most Bathory’s and reach level 99. I never did, but it’s an experience I cherish. And I’m convinced that if it weren’t for that private Ragnarok Online server I would never have taken part in the genre.

But the server ran in defiance of Gravity’s sanctioned network. Were we wrong for playing in our world, defying the edicts of the Terms of Service none of us understood? It’s a debate that continues. Lately, companies have had to shut down their servers due to high costs and saturated competition. But the games live on through fan-managed networks. Or, zealous players start their own server because they dislike a title's direction after the latest patch. I wanted to know whether server emulation ultimately harms or benefits the games they emulate. 

I’m not concerned about the hastily skipped EULA’s or TOS’s in pursuing this question. I am not versed in law or the complex nature of copyright, and to present a legal discussion here would be a waste of time. 

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Why Would Someone Make A Private Server?

As a kid I couldn’t play on Ragnarok Online’s official server, not only because my parents faith in credit card internet security was nonexistent but because the official experience rates were painful. Leveling from 1-10 required the slaughter of an entire Poring nation, a traumatic experience after my novice boots were covered in kawaii goop. But private servers have their own rules and ours doubled vanilla experience rates, making the grind tolerable (but still a struggle to level from 1 to 99). 

After our server shut down I migrated to dozens of private Ragnarok Online servers, like a digital nomad without a homeland. Each one had their own experience rates, level caps, items, grind spots, and gameplay emphasis (whether it was grinding MVP bosses or the War of Emperium). Each jump was a novelty, rejuvenating my passion for Ragnarok Online’s universe. And after years of server hopping I tried playing the official server and was bitterly disappointed. Because Gravity’s edition of RO emphasizes a progression system running counter to my desires—one tuned to be familiar to the massive MMORPG player base. But it wasn’t the Ragnarok Online I cherished.

In one sense private servers did harm my perception of the game. Because they presented me with what could have been, or was, on the official server—like a tangible thought experiment. And RO isn't alone. Numerous officially supported MMORPGs have diverged from their original incarnation and transformed into a new game—often to the dismay of veteran players. After years of patches and expansions a game like World of Warcraft no longer resembles its youth. But private servers capture the original experience, crystallize it, and hold it in suspension for as long as the bills are paid.

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Bonds Forged In Private

Perhaps the strongest motivator for joining a private server is the robust community that forms its foundation. Community is essential to any game’s immersive quality and longevity. Nothing is more disheartening than grinding in a zone by yourself, even as an introverted player. And the community that rallies behind a private server is typically composed of committed enthusiasts. They install the game to participate in its world, not test the waters before hopping to the next free to play title.

In my experience private servers also have a more hands-on community team, organizing frequent events and actively participating in the world’s development. Running the server is their passion, not their job. Private server game managers don’t follow strict community policies but actively engage the game to create the experience they would want to play. Many RO servers would host spontaneous boss events in town, or create quests for custom loot. And when the team running the game is as immersed in the experience as players I feel compelled to participate.    

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Private Servers Diminish Real Servers

I have never encountered evidence suggesting private servers diminish the communities of officially run servers. By definition the majority of  private server players disown the official experience. Games aren’t static objects, they evolve with time. And oftentimes the adaptation doesn’t appeal to the entire player base. They desire a return to glory days and seek a particular experience; how many of your friends fondly remember vanilla World of Warcraft? When players can’t find their memory they move on to the next ostentatiously shiny title. Or, they migrate to a private server that’s preserved their imagined perfection in amber.

Developers ought to recognize the desire for particular game rulesets and experiences. Daybreak Games signed an agreement with the creators of the EverQuest vanilla emu Project 1999, launching a server that’s a doppelganger of EverQuest the day it launched on March 16, 1999. Instead of sending takedown notices Daybreak welcomed the time-locked progression server. Whereas Jagex preserved Old School Runescape after overwhelming player demand. Both companies chose to open their arms to private servers, realizing that legal documents don't eliminate the demand for altered gameplay.  

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Resurrecting The Dead

Emulating a deceased game is a service to the industry. When MMORPG’s are no longer supported they disappear. You can’t boot up Darkfall Online by sliding a COMPUSA-purchased install disc into your CD-drive (if you have one). There is no means to play a dead MMORPG unless someone chooses to host a server. Private servers preserve relics such as Star Wars Galaxies which would otherwise only exist as a Wikipedia entry. But when the dead are brought back to life as a means of opening a bank account the private server isn't likely to live long.      

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For The Money

Not all private servers are created by exuberant fans eager to share their passion. In 2010 Blizzard sued a privately run World of Warcraft server for $88 million. It was run by a woman who sold custom gear to players as an exchange donations—under the company Scape Gaming.  Running for many years, it once claimed 32,000 players on a single day. But it’s ultimate shutdown was not unwarranted. Using unowned IP assets to profit is not only illegal but poses competition to the officially sanctioned server, placing a fat bullseye on the owner’s cranium.   

Similarly, Inspirit Online was a stolen copy of Elite Lord of Alliance that monetized through an in-game shop. Webzen's response to the North American private server was to release their game and directly compete on the market. Soon after, Inspirit Online’s website went dark and no one's seen the game since.

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While both of the aforementioned cases are seemingly clear examples of illegal practice, they ultimately bolstered the games they emulated. Like an Eve Online scandal, any press is good news. And scandals generate buzz about the MMORPGs in question. If it weren’t for the Inspirit Online affair I never would have installed the game, and Western audiences likely wouldn’t have an NA release of ELOA. And, while Scape Gaming vaporized and the host escaped to an unknown Caribbean island, any players who couldn’t get their WoW fix migrated to the official server or another private server.

Player's passion doesn't cease when the server shuts down. Private server players are immersed in the same IP as the official server. They generate buzz through their passion. They turn to forums, Wiki’s, and YouTube to devour and create content. It’s additional advertising and influencer support that would otherwise be void.

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Private Utopia

As a singular player I am confident asserting that my entire experience with MMORPGs has been shaped by participating on private servers. And while that entails bias, it doesn’t dismiss the objective benefits community servers bring. Barring legal questions, private servers preserve the past, foster tight knit communities, create new experiences through slight mechanics alterations, and generate interest in games by extending the IP’s reach. Developers ought to learn what private server managers do to spark interest, and—in some cases—extend clemency to fan projects. While the courtroom might dismiss private servers, they have created an enormous positive impact on the genre.