The "illusion" of progression is one of the biggest blind spots in MMO design, and it's amazing how often people treat levels as this sacred cow when, in reality, they're mostly a holdover from tabletop systems that never adapted well to a persistent online world. Levels don't actually give players depth, they just lock them out of content, fragment the population, and create friction that designers then have to solve with band-aid mechanics like scaling, mentoring, or endless catch-up systems.
What players actually care about isn't the number next to their name, it's the feeling of getting stronger, more capable, and more versatile. Unlocking new tools, new abilities, and new ways to interact with the world is meaningful. Watching your arbitrary "XP bar" inch toward a ding so you can swap out killing orcs for killing gnolls? That's just maintenance. It doesn't even feel like growth anymore now that the novelty of these worlds/games has worn off, it feels like you're just being herded along the dev "intended" routes.
Clinging to rigid levels in 2025 feels so backwards. A modern MMO that wants to lean into community should be looking for ways to bring players together. Letting a day-one player and a day-100 player share meaningful gameplay without one of them feeling useless or carried. The obsession with vertical progression does the opposite. It creates walls, divides the player base, and forces the devs to design convoluted workarounds just to let people play together.
It's not that levels are inherently evil; they can still work as shorthand for where a player is in their personal unlock path. But once you make those numbers dictate who can and can't play together, you've turned progression into a social barrier. And for a game supposedly about community, that's the most self-defeating design choice you could make.