EVE Online: Reality Check

Dr Eyjólfur Guðmundsson, CCP's lead economist for EVE Online, takes the view that the nature of our communication through tools like Facebook is redefining what we can consider as reality.

"In the future, we are going to be defining ourselves much more in terms of the social circles we engage with rather than geographical locations," he says. "You become part of something in this world and you can communicate with someone anywhere else. The ability for us to help you engage and find new people and have new experiences is actually adding to the real value of yourself.

"These worlds are not virtual. If you're in a conference call to your grandmother, are you in a virtual world? No, it's two real people talking through a device. You can look at any game client as a communications device, but there are real people at the end of each device.

"I truly believe that we can understand real-world conflicts in general in terms of EVE. By studying social groups, it is easier to understand where conflicts come from and this knowledge could be applied in real life."

Dr Eyjó is also responsible for curating the Council of Stellar Management. Democratically elected by the player-base, its members travel to Iceland twice a year as legitimate stakeholders in the organisation to present player concerns. It's not often pretty, and global CEO Hilmar Pétursson puts it bluntly, albeit with good grace: "They call us out on our bullshit."

Given the anecdotal atmosphere that permeates throughout the discussions at Fanfest, it's hard to resist sharing a story of my own with Nathan Richardsson, senior producer for EVE Online, following our interview: that the exploits of the Eurogamer Corporation led to a published article, which led to further work, until eventually I'm sitting here telling him this story face-to-face.

A quietly charismatic man in conversation, Richardsson has chosen to take a step back in order to allow the next generation of CCP developers to have their moment in the spotlight. That, of course, doesn't stop him from stripping down to his bright red budgie-smugglers for an on-stage appearance with the band at the closing party – there are certain expectations, after all.

Smiling, he tells me his own story. An old-school 0.0 Alliance player, he would create reams of design documents, bombarding CCP with his outlandish demands, until eventually they relented and offered him a position at the studio. For both of us, the virtual sandbox of EVE Online has had a very real and tangible effect on our lives.

As the last of the stragglers from this year's Fanfest make their way home, I find myself chatting to a player at the airport. He seems distracted and weary beyond the tedium of airline processing on the back of four days of hard drinking. Somewhere in the realms of outright agitation, in fact. Perhaps he's a nervous flier, I think, or maybe he's feeling the natural post-trip blues already.

Instead, we're back to that mischievous twinkle at the breakfast table.

With a look of good-humoured exasperation on his face, he tells me that an old adversary met with him at Fanfest, explaining at the end of their conversation that his absence from the game had been taken as the perfect opportunity to unleash a full onslaught onto his Corporation's infrastructure, now lying in near tatters.

For this particular player, the long and tedious wait at the airport gate, combined with the tiresome mechanics of real-life travel, has become an artificial barrier sitting between him and a resolution to the problem back home – where reality impatiently awaits.