I won't pretend like this is an experience that most people would enjoy, but for my group, this was more memorable than anything we had done in most other MMORPGs and we loved every moment of it.
I'm glad that worked for you, but honestly, that sounds like a nightmare to me.
When I play an MMORPG, I want its systems to engage me, not bore me into inventing my own entertainment. If the highlight of the session is "we couldn't see, so we spent an hour pretending it was an adventure," that's not good design, that's just tedium masquerading as depth. I don't need an MMO to serve me a half-broken DnD session in 3D form; if that's the itch, I'd rather just play an actual tabletop game that’s built for it.
I want the core gameplay to be engaging, rewarding, and interactive. I don't want my most memorable moments to come from wrestling with visibility issues, clunky mechanics, or long stretches of downtime that could just as easily be replicated in a tabletop session. If what makes an MMO "special" is that it occasionally stumbles into an 8-hour DnD adventure, then the MMO isn't really doing its job as a
game, first and foremost. It's outsourcing the fun to coincidence and player imagination.
And that's really the danger of nostalgia here. People mistake friction and inconvenience for "meaningful challenge," when in reality, the fun always came from the collaboration, not from staring through a dust storm or waiting for mechanics to get out of your way. If a game is relying on environmental annoyance to generate its best moments, it's already on shaky ground.
What made that story memorable wasn't the bad visibility, it was the cooperation. That's the piece designers should be leaning into with strong group incentives and interdependent systems. Romanticizing the frustrating parts only ensures most players will log out long before they ever stumble into one of those rare, serendipitous "memorable" moments.
That's the fine line I think Monsters & Memories needs to walk. Nostalgia makes it tempting to believe friction itself is fun, but in reality, it's only fun when the challenge is paired with meaningful engagement. Otherwise, I might as well roll dice at a tabletop, where that kind of emergent storytelling is the entire point of the medium.