BEING IN A CLAN
17 years of clan matches, rambling conversations, and… weddings.
In 2001 I played the demo of Operation Flashpoint for the first time, courtesy of PC Gamer’s cover disc. A month later, after the release of the full game, I found myself in love with its multiplayer, and at the start of an intriguing journey that I’ve been on ever since.
Hosting a multiplayer mission in GameSpy with a 56K modem was like trying to race a camel whilst tied to a bungee rope. In 2001 Operation Flashpoint’s map editor was exceptional but, given my 56K connection, the only way I could play my homemade missions publicly was if I sent the files to people with better connections. That was how our clan began, and a year or so later we’d rented our own public server and begun using TeamSpeak 2.
‘Striker, are you there?’ a muffled voice called out through my tinny Logitech speakers. I hated answering phones, and the first time I used TS2 I was filled with dread. Despite that, everyone was lovely, and soon I’d struck up some meaningful friendships. One person came to visit me in Newcastle, another invited me up to a wedding in Scotland.
In the years that followed, we played dozens of clan matches and enjoyed countless sweaty-palm moments. Never without the odd forum drama or ‘hackusation’, most of us stuck together and clung onto Operation Flashpoint as the community slowly drifted.
Then in 2006, the very sad passing of one our members was a catalyst for our big meet-up in Manchester, with some traveling in from as far as Germany. One of the guys from Sunderland picked me up and we drove down through Lake District snowdrifts. Two fun days of solid drinking and wobbly English ensued.
In the months that followed the OFP community flaked away, and we found a new home in Battlefield 2.
ALL CHANGE
Fast forward to today and the landscape of PC gaming online has changed—at least it has for our clan.
At one time members of the team might bring a friend, a workmate, or even a family member along, but these days the opposite is true. Many of our number have disappeared in favor of playing with real-world pals.
Members still hook up, but they dip in and out of their rooms on Discord, using it as a place to chat as much as game. Archived forum discussions are long gone, too, given up initially for a huge communal Facebook chat, and now replaced by a stream of conscious diarrhoea and dog gifs on Discord. Once-coherent conversations have been drowned out in our own sea of emojis and memes.
There are other Battlefield clans parallel to ours whose servers we’ve played on over the years, and it seems they share this trajectory. Tags help to advertize the clan, and without them it’s almost impossible to recruit.
For me, more worrying still is the multiplayer model that popular games such as PUBG have adopted, where, instead of browsing for a dedicated server, you hop in and out of matches, temporarily connecting with other players via matchmaking. Dedicated clan servers have always supported the longevity of their games, acting not just as platforms for the teams who rent them, but as hubs for the community. In spite of this, we’ve gone back to Battlefield 4, and occasionally still manage to reignite the old clan romance across its dwindling servers.
Time is scarce these days, with most of us now past 30 or
the first time I used TeamSpeak 2 I was filled with dread
40 years old. The intensity of all-night gaming marathons has been replaced by late-night baby feeds, punctuated by two-hourly ass wipes and burping. Maybe life has just taken over.
But, delightfully, two of our Dutch chaps flew in from Amsterdam for my wedding in 2015, which is testament to what lasting friendships we’ve made. As if that wasn’t enough, they came fully armed with two pairs of customized clogs for myself and my wife. 17 years on, my feet may now be splintered, but I know it’s all been worthwhile.