For a year and a half, I was sickly addicted to WoW. I ran a large raiding guild (for those not in the know, that meant running a rigid schedule, several times a week to kill the same bosses over and over, with 40 players, several hours a night). Running a large raiding guild is practically a full-time job (I averaged about 30 hours a week in-game, not counting time spent on the guild forums discussing policy whatnot), and it takes some managerial skills to keep the guild morale up and ultimately keep the epic loot rolling in.
As another user here noted, the progression in that type of world is very deterministic, and very measurable. You have stats that you can work to increase, knowing that eventually, it will increase. There is absolutely zero risk. If you die, you waste a few minutes, and try again. Eventually, you'll get it. That feeling of constant progression keeps people coming back. It's an invigorating feeling of accomplishment, and as soon as you've got your next item, you're pumped and salivating for that next item.
At the time, I hated my job and WoW was my escape. I was a consultant programmer who had simply gotten addicted hard (I always had a browser tab open to wowhead.com, even while working at clients). The only fun I had programming related at the time, was time I spent working on my guild's website (and I spent a lot of time on it), occassionally working on a startup I was doing on the site, unrelated to WoW stuff.
It wasn't until over a year into WoW, that I realized that the website I had built for my guild was actually very functional, beyond most other guild site I'd ever seen. So I spent half a year making it generic and started selling guild sites based on the framework of my original guild site. I launched three years ago and for 2.5 years, it's been my exclusive job.
My point? That occasionally, it pays off to waste your time in an artificial world, enough so to fully understand the target domain such that you can create a marketable product/service for it.
But for the most part, almost anyone I know that quits WoW improves their life in doing so. Myself, I don't play WoW anymore, haven't for a while (I just lost the interest, in realizing it's a neverending grind for no real payout).
In artificial worlds and closed environments, the rules are well-defined and success can be planned. There are no 'unknown unknowns' in a gaming environment: Success is granted simply by showing up and hanging around long enough. If you put in n-hours, you'll eventually have a gaming token strong enough to become a leader which newcomers rally around by default.
Conversely, success in "Real Life" requires interacting with and navigating through an unpredictable and capricious environment where success is neither guaranteed nor defined. There is no "Level X" to strive for out here, the beginning steps "A", "B" and "C" are anyone's guess to make, and hanging around for 50 years "grinding" by flipping burgers isn't going to deliver squat.
In "Real Life", you have to design your own quest and choose your own goals.
I know that's intended as a joke but, for what it's worth, you've given a staged example of a 'known unknown' (that is, a teammate unexpectedly being an idiot).
An 'unknown unknown' is something neither known nor anticipated. For example, if you succeeded in the quest, your real-world bank account would be dinged for $1000, all experience points and loot would be given to a different guild at random and one of the team would be permanently banned from WoW because they were wearing something yellow.
I think the point was that the players are still humans, therefore unknown(even the example was an act). With 40 persons physically in different locations, there can be always some random events, or you don't know everything about the encounter.
I ponder, you realise that your description of real life vs gaming worlds sounds like a fairly severe indictment of real life?
What I mean by this is that success in real life can often be reduced to a fairly wide array of things that extremely talented and competent people find abhorrent. Networking, soft skills, all these associated asskissing pursuits that fundamentally have little to nothing to do with advancing the state of the art in any sphere beyond carnival barking often enormously influence the degree to which a given endeavour may be successful in reality.
In artificial worlds? Do the math, that's pretty much it, the psychology vs the actual task is massively geared toward filling the tasks rather than stroking egos and convincing everyone to love you or your team. It's a great form of escapism and really a huge bonus over the real world, I think that's why a lot of people who are otherwise extremely talented can be satisfied and indeed thrive in these artificial environments.
Sometimes, the world simply is not good enough, and this is a fairly good illustration of a time when this is the case.
I know a few people who are highly talented (in one case, disturbingly talented) but hide it. They hold low-stress jobs and spend the rest of their time enjoying life. It's not my thing but I can't fault them.
This is so common as to probably not need someone to call it out. It's true enough, but what does one do with that knowledge? Some of the folks living in these other worlds some of the time also manage to live successful and productive lives outside of the other world. I'd be more interested to know what's different about the two types of people. Is it a matter of degree or are they two entirely different types of people?
As another user here noted, the progression in that type of world is very deterministic, and very measurable. You have stats that you can work to increase, knowing that eventually, it will increase. There is absolutely zero risk. If you die, you waste a few minutes, and try again. Eventually, you'll get it. That feeling of constant progression keeps people coming back. It's an invigorating feeling of accomplishment, and as soon as you've got your next item, you're pumped and salivating for that next item.
At the time, I hated my job and WoW was my escape. I was a consultant programmer who had simply gotten addicted hard (I always had a browser tab open to wowhead.com, even while working at clients). The only fun I had programming related at the time, was time I spent working on my guild's website (and I spent a lot of time on it), occassionally working on a startup I was doing on the site, unrelated to WoW stuff.
It wasn't until over a year into WoW, that I realized that the website I had built for my guild was actually very functional, beyond most other guild site I'd ever seen. So I spent half a year making it generic and started selling guild sites based on the framework of my original guild site. I launched three years ago and for 2.5 years, it's been my exclusive job.
My point? That occasionally, it pays off to waste your time in an artificial world, enough so to fully understand the target domain such that you can create a marketable product/service for it.
But for the most part, almost anyone I know that quits WoW improves their life in doing so. Myself, I don't play WoW anymore, haven't for a while (I just lost the interest, in realizing it's a neverending grind for no real payout).