Index Page 6 of 10 players could trade more easily among themselves. The Berlin Wall fell, and capitalism rushed in The free market made things more fluid, but also more unfair. Soon, rich players drove the price of basic goods so high that poor players became much poorer. Once again, the designers had to step in would"drop"objects in places where new players could easily scavenge them, giving them a chance to amass a bit of wealth. The designers also set up programs to buy the otherwise useless items generated by poor players(such as animal skins)to give them a chance to make money. In essence, they created handouts for the disadvantaged. Ultima Online had morphed into a modern welfare state, where a free market coexists uneasily with an activist government. As a developer, I would love to leave it all as a free market, " says Anthony Castoro, one of Ultima Online's first designers. "But people who are new to the game would have nothing, and the big players would have everything A year after Castronova began his writings on the field, on-line games were sufficiently mainstream that he was a media celebrity, with CNN, National Public Radio, and endless newspapers calling him for comment But economists at universities still weren't impressed. Castronova submitted his original EverQuest paper to a few economics journals. They rejected it instantly. One reviewer wrote a snippy note saying he preferred"to stick with things that are real rather than virtual One can appreciate the economists'confusion Even the most highly valued virtual goods do not seem in some essential way, real. An Axe of the Heavens may be great for killing virtual orcs, but it cannot be enjoyed in the physical world. You cant eat virtual food to stay alive. But that distinction shouldn 't matter-at least not in economics, which is, as Castronova never tires of pointing out, the study of the entirely arbitrary values that people ascribe to things. Most of a diamond's value is virtual, too, "he The ultimate proof of this idea is in the game world s emerging merchant class- people who make their real-world income purely by"flipping"virtual goods. Much of their everyday jobs is conducted within the game One of these merchants is Robert Kiblinger, a thirty-three-year-old West Virginian. A commercial chemist by training, he worked for Febreze, the company that invented the popular cleaning agent, for which he still holds a couple of patents. ("I was basically selling perfumed water, " he jokes. ) But then he started playing Ultima Online, where he ran into a player who was tired of the game and wanted to sell his entire account. The player owned two houses and towers and oodles of rare items, and only wanted $500, which Kiblinger figured was a steal. he drove to Cincinnati to close the deal. "I met him in a taco Bell parking lot and I gave him a cheque, he recalls. The next day, they met inside the game, and the seller handed over the virtual goods. Kiblinger turned around and resold the whole shebang a few days later to another player on e Bay for $8,000, producing a tidy profit He was hooked. He began buying up items from anyone who was willing to sell, and set up a Web site UOTreasures-to advertise his inventory. Today the site gets thirty-five thousand visitors a week Kiblinger employs five hundred people inside the game, paying them a small stipend (in Ultima Gold and cash) to act as virtual couriers, scurrying around inside the game to deliver the goods to the players who,ve paid for them. A few elite customers have bought more than $20,000 of stuff from him. A couple of years ago, business was so good that Kiblinger quit his job as a research associate at Procter Gamble to work full-time as a virtual vendor, though he won t tell me his exact income. "It's in the six figures, he says. It's a decent living Kiblinger introduced me to one of his clients, Becky Ruttenbur, a thirty-seven-year-old woman in Montana. Outside the game she's a single mother; inside she is"married"to another virtual character http://www.walrusmagazine.com/printpl?sid=04/05/06/1929205players could trade more easily among themselves.The Berlin Wall fell, and capitalism rushed in. The free market made things more fluid, but also more unfair. Soon, rich players drove the price of basic goods so high that poor players became much poorer. Once again, the designers had to step in. They would "drop" objects in places where new players could easily scavenge them, giving them a chance to amass a bit of wealth. The designers also set up programs to buy the otherwise useless items generated by poor players (such as animal skins) to give them a chance to make money. In essence, they created handouts for the disadvantaged. Ultima Online had morphed into a modern welfare state, where a free market coexists uneasily with an activist government. "As a developer, I would love to leave it all as a free market," says Anthony Castoro, one of Ultima Online's first designers. "But people who are new to the game would have nothing, and the big players would have everything." A year after Castronova began his writings on the field, on-line games were sufficiently mainstream that he was a media celebrity, with CNN, National Public Radio, and endless newspapers calling him for comment. But economists at universities still weren't impressed. Castronova submitted his original EverQuest paper to a few economics journals. They rejected it instantly. One reviewer wrote a snippy note saying he preferred "to stick with things that are real rather than virtual." One can appreciate the economists' confusion. Even the most highly valued virtual goods do not seem, in some essential way, real. An Axe of the Heavens may be great for killing virtual orcs, but it cannot be enjoyed in the physical world. You can't eat virtual food to stay alive. But that distinction shouldn't matter — at least not in economics, which is, as Castronova never tires of pointing out, the study of the entirely arbitrary values that people ascribe to things. "Most of a diamond's value is virtual, too," he adds. The ultimate proof of this idea is in the game world's emerging merchant class — people who make their real-world income purely by "flipping" virtual goods. Much of their everyday jobs is conducted within the game. One of these merchants is Robert Kiblinger, a thirty-three-year-old West Virginian. A commercial chemist by training, he worked for Febreze, the company that invented the popular cleaning agent, for which he still holds a couple of patents. ("I was basically selling perfumed water," he jokes.) But then he started playing Ultima Online, where he ran into a player who was tired of the game and wanted to sell his entire account. The player owned two houses and towers and oodles of rare items, and only wanted $500, which Kiblinger figured was a steal. He drove to Cincinnati to close the deal. "I met him in a Taco Bell parking lot and I gave him a cheque," he recalls. The next day, they met inside the game, and the seller handed over the virtual goods. Kiblinger turned around and resold the whole shebang a few days later to another player on eBay for $8,000, producing a tidy profit. He was hooked. He began buying up items from anyone who was willing to sell, and set up a Web site — UOTreasures — to advertise his inventory. Today the site gets thirty-five thousand visitors a week. Kiblinger employs five hundred people inside the game, paying them a small stipend (in Ultima Gold and cash) to act as virtual couriers, scurrying around inside the game to deliver the goods to the players who've paid for them. A few elite customers have bought more than $20,000 of stuff from him. A couple of years ago, business was so good that Kiblinger quit his job as a research associate at Procter & Gamble to work full-time as a virtual vendor, though he won't tell me his exact income. "It's in the six figures," he says. "It's a decent living." Kiblinger introduced me to one of his clients, Becky Ruttenbur, a thirty-seven-year-old woman in Montana. Outside the game she's a single mother; inside she is "married" to another virtual character, Index Page 6 of 10 http://www.walrusmagazine.com/print.pl?sid=04/05/06/1929205 10/28/2004