Picture it: You wake up one day and head down to your favorite amusement park only to discover that, for some reason, no one else has decided to attend today’s opening. Unbelievable, I know, but go with it.

You come in through the gates met not with a sea of bodies and their odors, but instead pristine paths, stores sitting in a presentable state, the churro stand waiting for you. They’re still too expensive, but at least now you don’t have to wait. You get several because it’s a special day (or maybe because I’m running this scenario and that’s probably my first move, not gonna lie…) and move deeper in, the tranquility of it all feeling surreal in what should be, by all means, a cacophony of shrieks and giggles.

The serenity barely makes itself known as you hurl about in mechanical near-death-experience simulators, wind whipping your hair into wild shapes, only for it to be undone by inevitable splash zones. Hours go by in the blink of an eye as you go from event to event, the only thing slowing you down being the laws of physics and your desired pace.

In fact, maybe it’s too perfect, maybe the inconvenience of others leads to a more enjoyable experience overall. Yes, you are unhindered in your actions, but does that make things more enjoyable? Certainly not having to wait is nice, but there is a somewhat intangible part of the living experience that, as much as some of us might like to shun, still exists. We crave the existence of others.

Party Up!

Now, I should explain, perhaps, that this is different from the desire to interact. Much like a wine enthusiast differs from one with an addiction, you can appreciate others without overconsumption. Even the most reclusive of us have that urge to see others. If you went to Limsa Lominsa’s aetheryte plaza and saw and heard nothing, would you not be unsettled?

The absence of people in places they should be is inherently unnerving. Should you still not believe this, it is not something you have to think hard about to come around.

The settlers of Dynamis are a perfect example of this phenomenon in action. While many have moved there, it is not uncommon to see them in Aether, Crystal, or Primal looking for others to tackle adventuring challenges with. What makes this especially peculiar is the increase in what some might call “NPC groups” or “trusts,” hiring services that allow a singular adventurer to complete tasks on their own. They can be perhaps a little slower in this way, but there are no wait times. You are able to set your own pace.

It is essentially the example of the theme park transposed into the realm of exploration. So why else would people undergo the difficulties inherent with travel when they can live their lives in a vacuum?

The adage “no man is an island” is often used to suggest that one should not be expected to accomplish things entirely on their own, but there is another implication to it, that we are not meant to be cut off from the rest of the world. We are all interconnected, and whether you want to be entwined in the center of the group or orbit as a satellite, it is a base urge we all want to fulfill. We are lucky, then, that we have so many tools to allow us to interact. Despite all that, though, sometimes wandering about can feel so empty.

I am not the type of person who CRAVES to go out all the time. In fact, I much prefer the quiet comfort of the known objects that litter my room to the wondrous sights and landscapes that are but a teleportation away.

Still, I do also enjoy the occasional foray into the wilderness, shedding my slippers for combat boots and seeing what lurks in the shadows of mountains perilous. Yet each time I do, I quickly lose interest as I aimlessly drift, surrounded by monsters and no one, left to contemplate my thoughts, the sounds of my footsteps matched only by their echoes. There is sorrow in the emptiness.

Sometimes I go out to collect fruits and berries, whatever I can, to help my friends with their various projects. Occasionally a group will rush through, screaming, chanting, looking to take on particularly dangerous beasts that encroach too close to society. Just as quickly, the masses are gone, on to the next hunt. But for a moment, there is a sense that the world is alive.

However, for new adventurers, this will not be something they experience for quite some time. And why should they? There is no great reward for storming lands where the untested can develop their skills. Perhaps there should be, though. The tragedy is that we are all trapped in a system that encourages loneliness. Even so, there are glimpses of what we COULD have.

The Island of Val, better known as Eureka, sits near Kugane in the Glass Ocean. It is an untamed place, save a scattered bunch of tiny settlements, where adventurers put their mettle to the test. Scores of creatures pepper the landscape, ready to violently subdue any who would enter their territory. And the people of the island are willing to pay handsomely to those who would take on such risks.

I, too, have visited on more than one occasion, if nothing more than to sate curiosity. At first, the appeal went over my head, just another land to passively take in by myself, or so I thought.

Before long I found myself in the midst of a massive team of others, all working together to face the threats found across the island. This felt, in a way, similar to the aforementioned hunt groups, but with some differences. Eureka has a strange power to it - even the strongest explorers feel their strength sapped when they arrive, and they must acclimate to the new environment.

Those who are more familiar with the island’s ways do not brush these newcomers off as unwanted baggage, though. Their aid was crucial to me on several harrowing occasions, where what should have been an afterthought for me proved to be near-fatal.

To contrast, in my time as a new adventurer on the mainland, I would sometimes deliriously lay unmoving in a spot wondering, hoping that someone would come to provide assistance. No one would, and I would be forced to make it back to a city to seek emergency aid from the chirurgeons. This is not uncommon to see, should you travel these well-known areas. The weakest among us are often left to fend for themselves without the means to effectively do so. And now the tragedy comes full circle.

If we are encouraged to rely on no one, making bonds and connections can be much more difficult later down the line. Self-sufficiency is a blessing, but it can also be a curse.

We are creatures of habit and once we learn how to do something, changing that can feel impossible. It does not have to be this way, though. So now I am going to make a plea. First, if you have not and are able, I encourage you to go to Eureka, to experience this environment of teamwork and comradery for yourself. Second, I ask you to consider taking the time to go out and look around places you have been before, places new adventurers earn their chops. Help them out, even with simple things.

We may be encouraged by the system to focus solely on ourselves, but we also have all the tools we need to break the cycle. We just have to realize that and take action.