I don’t need to be number one at anything, least of all a mobile MMO. I’m quite happy pottering along at my own pace, chatting away in the alliance chat, helping people out, being helped out in return. That’s the actual game, as far as I’m concerned. The leaderboard is just wallpaper.

Not everyone sees it that way. And that’s the problem.

There’s Always Someone Chasing The Top Spot

Every mobile MMO has one. Doesn’t matter if it’s a city builder, a survival game, a kingdom sim — the State of Survivals, Evonys and Rise of Kingdoms of this world all run on the same instinct. There’s always that person, sometimes several, who’s decided the entire point of the exercise is to be ranked first. Not to enjoy the building, the strategy, the daft little community that forms around an app you downloaded on a whim. Just to be top.

On its own, fair enough. Chase what you like. The trouble is that in an MMO, nothing you do happens in isolation. Someone else’s obsession with rank one becomes everyone else’s problem, whether they signed up for it or not.

The Camaraderie Is The Actual Point

The bit that keeps me coming back to these games isn’t the grind, it’s the people. There’s something genuinely nice about a group of strangers coordinating, covering for each other, having a laugh in the group chat about something utterly trivial that happened in a game about pretend policing or farming or whatever the premise happens to be that week.

That camaraderie is fragile, though. It only survives if everyone’s playing roughly the same game — the relaxed, sociable one. The moment someone decides they’re playing the competitive, must-be-first version instead, the tone shifts. Suddenly there’s pressure. Suddenly casual players who were having a nice time feel like they’re dragging the alliance down. Suddenly it’s not a hobby, it’s an obligation.

You see the same pattern whether it’s a farming sim, a tycoon game, or one of the endless “build your empire” titles that seem to be advertised on every video on the internet. The genre doesn’t matter. The leaderboard does the same job every time. I’m currently playing one myself — Police Chief, a mobile MMO about building up a station and cracking down on cartoon crime — and even in the early hours you can already spot who’s playing for the community and who’s playing for the rank.

What The Leaderboard Chase Actually Costs

Here’s what I’ve watched happen, more than once, across more than one of these games:

• The person chasing rank one starts spending real money to keep pace, and quietly expects everyone else to match the energy.
• Alliance chat stops being banter and starts being logistics — assignments, quotas, “why hasn’t everyone donated today.”
• Newer or slower players get made to feel like deadweight for daring to play at a normal pace.
• The relaxed players — the ones who made the game fun in the first place — start drifting off, because who wants a second job.
• The chaser eventually gets near the top, or close to it, and the alliance they’ve hollowed out to get there isn’t much fun for anyone anymore, including them.

That last one’s the real sting. The chase doesn’t just spoil it for the people happy to play casually. It tends to spoil it for the chaser too, eventually. Number one is a lonely, high-maintenance spot to defend, and it turns out a leaderboard position doesn’t do banter back.

You’re Allowed To Just Play The Game

If you’re the sort who enjoys an MMO the way I do — logging on, doing your bit, having a laugh with the alliance, not losing any sleep over rank — you’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it exactly right. These games were designed to be enjoyed at a normal human pace by normal human people with normal human amounts of money and free time.

The number one spot is designed to be unattainable for most players, precisely so a small number of them will spend a large amount of money trying anyway. That’s not a design flaw. That’s the business model. You’re not missing out by declining to take part in it.

So if you’re in an alliance with someone quietly turning the whole thing into an unpaid full-time job, it’s worth saying so. Not everyone’s playing for the crown. Some of us are just here for the company.

I’ll keep pottering along with Police Chief, keep chatting away in the alliance, and keep letting the leaderboard do whatever it wants without me. No crown, no stress, no quotas — just a decent bit of pretend policing and a group chat worth logging in for. That’s a win in my book, even if the game doesn’t have a badge for it.