It's not really their fault, MMO's can tell a story, it's just it falls short in so many ways. It's just this, I think it's hard for a video game to truly, in a deep and emotional way, move you with its story. Why? It's the fault of books.
So to that end I propose, for the sake of the future of MMO's, that we burn all the books in the world.
/waitforit
/waitforit
/waitforit
Dang, I hope you didn't believe me there! Of course I think book burning is tragic, immoral, illogical, illwhatevered baddness and all out evilness. That still doesn't mean that it's not the fault of thousands of years of literature, whether it be carved into stone or typed out and posted to the world wide interwebnetsess or bound and sold at Border's Bookstore.
I'm no expert at these kinds of things, but I've got a pretty good idea why a story from an MMO doesn't measure up in quality with that of good old fashioned literature in book form. It's not internalized the same way word on a page are. Let me attempt to explain (although I'm sure I'll suck at it).
From personal experience, when I'm reading a book that doesn't completely suck, something happens to my brain. I enter a sort of trancelike state where my mind receives the information from the words and then is given freedom to shape images in his head in a very personal way. True, many book authors will describe a scene or a person with great detail, letting you, the reader, know of the color of the carpet or the temperature of the air or the amount of light coming through the windows. But even then our mind creates other details that the author never thinks to include, and it's these little things that makes the scene personal to us, almost to a point where the reader is authoring the story simultaneously with the actual writer.
Have you ever seen a movie or TV show adapted from a book and said to yourself or someone else "that's not how I pictured him/her to look like". It's funny, really, because even when an author describes a person, each reader pictures someone unique and different, sometimes even changing major features to suit his/her whims. This is an example of a book becoming personal, and a reader's relationship with that piece of literature.
In a video game, all the visuals are provided, and often story is communicated with words or text or quests or whatever, but a visual is given to you with no room for interpretation or personalization. That barrier to personalization keeps the user from fully participating in the story in the way that readers participate in creating details while reading a book.
So right away MMO devs are at a disadvantage when trying to tell a story. They can make the story compelling, but they lose the ability for the player to participate in the character's creation.
I have some experience in writing...some. I've written some short stories and am about 75% completed with a fictional novel, along with a lot of poetry between the years of 16-26 (the "wooing years" I call them). I have my wife read what I write, to criticize and to encourage me, but often when I discuss with her the "behind the scenes" details of my characters or scenes, she tells me that she pictured something different in her mind while reading. It's good, really, because it forces me to make sure that I'm consistent, but it also proves the point I made earlier about a reader personalizing a story regardless of what the author wrote.
The story of Arthas, as told via the game of WoW, is interesting. There are points that you see where you want to reach through the screen and strangle him for making some of the decisions that he made, but ultimately I have never felt for Arthas or any other character in that fantasy world the same I have felt about hundreds of other characters I've read in books.
Perhaps a contributing factor is that MMO's generally deal with fantsay, while much of literature, even fantasy novels, often deal with real human issues of love, hate, jealousy, power, etc in ways that are significanly more realistic than a cartoon character on a computer monitor.
Again, I don't blame MMO's for not being as good, I just think that there are inevitable barriers that cannot be crossed no matter the skill of the dev in creating compelling story lines or scenes. Not to mention, often in liturature you share the journey of the main character, from their insecure beginnings to their heroic finale. Music, TV, movies, and MMO's just don't measure up to books in sucking in the reader/player and immersing them in such a personal way as to make that person feel that, at times, that they are actually there.
So, why talk about something like this? Why bash MMO's for their failures?
Well partly because I, like others, have been thinking or discussing a lot lately about the future of MMO's and how they could be "better", that is please old and newer type players. I'm not really intelligent enough about game design to throw my hat into the ring too often, I'd just like to say that I don't think that we should expect MMO's to create immersive stories because I don't believe that they are capable of it.
So let's try to fix them in other ways. RP is immersive, but it's personal and done in the player's mind. Images on a screen have never proven to immerse someone into a story the way words on a page do, and I'll argue that point till the day I die. I'd love to see changes to the World of WoW, I'd really love it. I'd like to see consistency and reason in the stories I play through as well, but I'm not asking for something that I don't think a video game is capable of.
That's all I have for now, I'm sure I'll think of other stuff later, I usually do. Thanks for stopping by and have a wonderful day in whatever world you play in.
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Channeled - A Look Into One Man's Psyche
I'd like to be upfront and honest about something before I really get started today. February 6th will be an important day for me. It was the day I began to question myself. Not in the "why am I here [on Earth]" question, but rather why am I here in the blogosphere. I read something that was never intended to garner an emotional response and weeks of deep introspection. It was a simple blog post intending to say goodbye. Tamarind, over at the newly unoccupied Rightous Orbs said something that simply proved to me that I was not as confident as I should be.
"It is fitting that people appear, write, and then fade away; that others come to take their places, and say the same things in different ways."
I was in love, or at least the love a teenager can possess, which differs in everyone. We had the opportunity to be a part of something wonderful, and do it together. Joy was in everything, life was rich, music rang from the houses and the hills, the sea and the air. Quite literally, in fact, as we were both chosen to sing in the musical The Sound of Music. I was to play the part of the young traitor Rolf, while she was the lovely eldest daughter of the Captain Von Trapp, Liesel.
For those of you who don't know, one of the most memorable scenes in the play/movie is where the young man and woman sing and dance with each other and ultimately kiss at the end. For girls it's utterly romantic, for boys it's deserving of some "whoops and hollas" from your bros in the audience. For me it was magic.
Opening night arrived, the backstage area was electric as adrenaline pulsed through the veins of all the actors and stage crew, director and orchestra. It was a monumental accomplishment for such an ameteur group of singers; I was on the verge of something wonderful. Shortly before costume and makeup time I was chatting with one of the other younger actresses who played Liesel's sisters. From out of nowhere she decided to tell me something that my beautiful sidekick had told her...in confidence. It was about our kissing during the hundreds of rehersals pervious.
"She said it was a bit dry, not very impressive. I'm surprised she doesn't just gag instead."
Now, what could have possibly motivated this young lady to say such a thing to me I have no idea. I was shocked, floored, destroyed. In a few short seconds all my hopes and dreams for love were vanishing into the void, and all because I had laid a fairly dry kiss on a girl. (Mind you, it was always in front of the entire cast, and so I was nervous ALL THE TIME in rehersals). My desire to see this queen of perfection outside of the play seemed to vanish before the eyes of my very soul. My psyche forever tarnished.
I don't remember making my way up the stairs and into my dressing room, but the next thing I know I'm there. Sitting in his chair was the lead actor, with one look at my face he jumped to my side pleading to allow him to assist me, for I looked quite ill to him.
"No, I'm not ill," I told him. "Just heartbroken." I related the story to him and watched as he listened intently, not saying a single word until I had finished my story. Slowly he placed his hand on my shoulder and said:
"Don't let this get you down. Channel this feeling, all the disappointment, sadness, hate, love, everything you have into your character, into your performance. Let these feelings channel into your heart and mind and focus you like you've never focues before."
That was it, he was done. With another pat on the shoulder and a "break a leg" while walking out the door, I was left to wonder if it was even possible to channel what I felt in to something positive.
But I did it.
Everything I had ever felt for this girl, past and present, I allowed to envelope me completely. I wouldn't even speak to her or anyone else before going on stage. I was a machine internally, but to the crowd I turned into Rolf, Rolf as he really was and how everyone should see him.
The beautiful one and I sang and danced as we had never done before. And as the scene came to its conclusion, we kissed as we had never done before. In that one kiss there was passion, warmth, hate, betrayal, love and confusion. Everything poured out and we shone as a result. Drawing all power from the grid we lit up the city, and people in our town talked about us for years afterwards. All because those feelings were channeled, focused into the power to accomplish a worthy goal.
That was my life, and my life isn't mutually exclusive from the games I play, and now a part of my life is a game. A small part to be sure, but a part nonetheless.
Channeling in WoW
It can be done, and successfully at that. There have been times when I have listened to a raid leader implore the group to "get it right for once", and other stuff less appropriate for children along those same lines of thought. Those times when I allow myself to become frustrated at that leader or at someone who is clearly making multiple mistakes, are times when I begin to fail. But those times when I can successfully focus all those positive and often negative emotions into my ability to concentrate on the task at hand are those times I find my greatest successes.
Perhaps I'm in a BG and someone is yelling at everyone else to NOT BE SO BAD, when that happens I try to take all that disdain and channel it into performance. Sometimes it works, sometimes I lose focus and I fail badly. But the opportunities are there for me, for you, for many other gamers out there. We play with other people, people with different opinions, values, personalities, and often we clash with these folks to the point were we either want to vomit or just punch them in the face. Since their faces are not within punching distance, there is another option. Channeling. Channel your hate of that trade chat idiot into something worthwhile. Maybe you can just ignore him/her, which makes channeling unnecessary. But you can't ignore everyone, it's literally impossible.
So I say to you, give it a try. Next time you get frustrated, focus, channel those emotions into somthing beneficial, something positive that rewards you and leaves you feeling accomplished. Don't listen to the yelling of the raid leader, listen to the words, then channel the emotion that is on the verge of boiling over into a great performance this week, this month, or whenever.
Who Am I?
I've thought about it, and here I've given it to you. These thoughts, however many times they have been expressed, have never been done so by me to you in this manner. This fact, above all else, tells me to keep on keeping on in this here interesting blogosphere. It's a pleasure to talk with you, to receive you to my little corner of the world, to get personal with you, and maybe, just maybe, connect with one of you.
Come back soon sometime!
"It is fitting that people appear, write, and then fade away; that others come to take their places, and say the same things in different ways."
Was this me? I know for a fact that he wasn't even thinking about me when he wrote this, but nevertheless it resonated and caused me to consider whether I was one of those that were just saying the same things that have been said over and over and over as one in the long line of bloggers that come and go from the WoW blogosphere.
I've been frozen since then, unable to generate any thought for fear of it being so completely unoriginal, worried that my thoughts were the 14th encarnation, the 12th actually put to words and sent over the vast internet[s]. But why? Why should it matter? Even if it's not completely original, it may be relevant to me and my current experiences. And if that's the case then it's worthy to [cut] and paste. Sorry, bad attempt at humorous rhyming.
More than that, I haven't read much as I've only been reading and blogging for a little over a year now (one year and about 20 days), which means that I don't know what's been said. So, for the sake of overcoming my own self-esteem issues, I remembered the reason I blog in the first place. I firmly believe that people matter, you and me included I hope, and that people are the ones actually playing MMO's like WoW (with some exceptions perhaps). Every person experiences something while they play, be it good or bad. Those experiences have the potential to affect the real lives in some small or large way.
The point is, we all feel. Well, there may be a few unfeeling terds out there, but I bet even those feel something, even if it is self-loathing. Anyhoo, we feel, we think, we laugh, we scream, we grow tired or sick. We hide our gaming self from the world or we are liberated to celebrate it with those who employ us. So many of the experiences that our level 85 Fire Breathing Mage or Warlock are shared experiences with the person at the keyboard and mouse combo. I've never been too shy to be personal here on this blog, it's how I roll because if I don't show the real me, then how will I ever connect with the real you?
There's a story I want to share, and I'll have the pleasure of relating that experience directly into the WoW experience.
The Girl
I'm married now, but it wasn't always that way. Yes, believe it or not I was once a nerdy teenager, entirely too self-absorbed and critical. I was a handsome dude, to put it lightly, and I had the unfortunate habit of refusing to dance with a girl once. ONE TIME ONLY, I might add, a terrible mistake which I never afterward repeated. This girl was a couple years younger than me at the time of the unfortunate incident. I continued on in life, oblivious to her and her feelings. Around the time I was 18 I saw her again and was struck dumb and fool by her overwhelming beauty and perfection.I was in love, or at least the love a teenager can possess, which differs in everyone. We had the opportunity to be a part of something wonderful, and do it together. Joy was in everything, life was rich, music rang from the houses and the hills, the sea and the air. Quite literally, in fact, as we were both chosen to sing in the musical The Sound of Music. I was to play the part of the young traitor Rolf, while she was the lovely eldest daughter of the Captain Von Trapp, Liesel.
For those of you who don't know, one of the most memorable scenes in the play/movie is where the young man and woman sing and dance with each other and ultimately kiss at the end. For girls it's utterly romantic, for boys it's deserving of some "whoops and hollas" from your bros in the audience. For me it was magic.
Opening night arrived, the backstage area was electric as adrenaline pulsed through the veins of all the actors and stage crew, director and orchestra. It was a monumental accomplishment for such an ameteur group of singers; I was on the verge of something wonderful. Shortly before costume and makeup time I was chatting with one of the other younger actresses who played Liesel's sisters. From out of nowhere she decided to tell me something that my beautiful sidekick had told her...in confidence. It was about our kissing during the hundreds of rehersals pervious.
"She said it was a bit dry, not very impressive. I'm surprised she doesn't just gag instead."
Now, what could have possibly motivated this young lady to say such a thing to me I have no idea. I was shocked, floored, destroyed. In a few short seconds all my hopes and dreams for love were vanishing into the void, and all because I had laid a fairly dry kiss on a girl. (Mind you, it was always in front of the entire cast, and so I was nervous ALL THE TIME in rehersals). My desire to see this queen of perfection outside of the play seemed to vanish before the eyes of my very soul. My psyche forever tarnished.
I don't remember making my way up the stairs and into my dressing room, but the next thing I know I'm there. Sitting in his chair was the lead actor, with one look at my face he jumped to my side pleading to allow him to assist me, for I looked quite ill to him.
"No, I'm not ill," I told him. "Just heartbroken." I related the story to him and watched as he listened intently, not saying a single word until I had finished my story. Slowly he placed his hand on my shoulder and said:
"Don't let this get you down. Channel this feeling, all the disappointment, sadness, hate, love, everything you have into your character, into your performance. Let these feelings channel into your heart and mind and focus you like you've never focues before."
That was it, he was done. With another pat on the shoulder and a "break a leg" while walking out the door, I was left to wonder if it was even possible to channel what I felt in to something positive.
But I did it.
Everything I had ever felt for this girl, past and present, I allowed to envelope me completely. I wouldn't even speak to her or anyone else before going on stage. I was a machine internally, but to the crowd I turned into Rolf, Rolf as he really was and how everyone should see him.
The beautiful one and I sang and danced as we had never done before. And as the scene came to its conclusion, we kissed as we had never done before. In that one kiss there was passion, warmth, hate, betrayal, love and confusion. Everything poured out and we shone as a result. Drawing all power from the grid we lit up the city, and people in our town talked about us for years afterwards. All because those feelings were channeled, focused into the power to accomplish a worthy goal.
That was my life, and my life isn't mutually exclusive from the games I play, and now a part of my life is a game. A small part to be sure, but a part nonetheless.
Channeling in WoW
It can be done, and successfully at that. There have been times when I have listened to a raid leader implore the group to "get it right for once", and other stuff less appropriate for children along those same lines of thought. Those times when I allow myself to become frustrated at that leader or at someone who is clearly making multiple mistakes, are times when I begin to fail. But those times when I can successfully focus all those positive and often negative emotions into my ability to concentrate on the task at hand are those times I find my greatest successes.
Perhaps I'm in a BG and someone is yelling at everyone else to NOT BE SO BAD, when that happens I try to take all that disdain and channel it into performance. Sometimes it works, sometimes I lose focus and I fail badly. But the opportunities are there for me, for you, for many other gamers out there. We play with other people, people with different opinions, values, personalities, and often we clash with these folks to the point were we either want to vomit or just punch them in the face. Since their faces are not within punching distance, there is another option. Channeling. Channel your hate of that trade chat idiot into something worthwhile. Maybe you can just ignore him/her, which makes channeling unnecessary. But you can't ignore everyone, it's literally impossible.
So I say to you, give it a try. Next time you get frustrated, focus, channel those emotions into somthing beneficial, something positive that rewards you and leaves you feeling accomplished. Don't listen to the yelling of the raid leader, listen to the words, then channel the emotion that is on the verge of boiling over into a great performance this week, this month, or whenever.
Who Am I?
I've thought about it, and here I've given it to you. These thoughts, however many times they have been expressed, have never been done so by me to you in this manner. This fact, above all else, tells me to keep on keeping on in this here interesting blogosphere. It's a pleasure to talk with you, to receive you to my little corner of the world, to get personal with you, and maybe, just maybe, connect with one of you.
Come back soon sometime!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Two-Headed, Teenage, Transvestite Tarantulas
Story
True story: I used to live in the Northeast, New England to be specific, New Hampshire, Maine and Connecicut to be even more specific. One of the great advantages of living in SW Connecicut is the train system. I could hop on a train and be into "The City" (New York City) in 45 minutes. It made it a great tool for dating or just fun with friends.
On a pre-Christmas Eve night (Dec 23) I boarded a train in Stamford, CT with a bunch of friends to tour Rockefeller Center and take a look at the famous Christmas tree and skating rink. The train brought us into Grand Central Station, we walked west along 42nd Street towards Broadway and Rockefeller Center. Not two blocks down we came across a woman who had eyes for you know who. She actually stopped and touched my arm and asked me if I wanted to have "a good time". It was with surprise that I noticed that it wasn't a woman at all, but a man in a mini-skirt and this cute little red top, it looked....er, moving on.
Politely I said no thanks, that I was going on a walk with my friends, but I wished her, um, him a good night. He winked at me and blew me a kiss, my friends and I chuckeled and went on with our night.
Later that night, after viewing the forgetable Christmas tree and being completely underwhelmed by Rockerfeller Center (it's significantly smaller than appears on TV), I was approached once again by a woman clearly dressed for warmer than 25 degree weather (F, not C). Once again, as before, even in the middle of all my friends of both sexes, I was offered the night of my life. To my everlasting astonishment, upon closer view, I noticed that it was yet again a man dressed as a woman, looking for the type of good time that I wasn't.
My friends and I pondered what the odds were that two transvestites approach me on the streets of New York City in the same night, both times while I was not walking alone but with a group of friends. A hundred billion to one? Who knows? And while this is not a commentary on my personal position of the transvestite lifestyle, I thougt it would make for a fascinating read nonetheless.
Cataclysm Xpac
So things aren't always what they seem, so what? With all the mumbo-jumbo talk going around about the success or failure of this current expansion, I wonder if anyone has looked closely enough at all of its features to make formulate an informed opinion worthy to be listened to? So what, any time anything undesireable makes its way into the game people should stop playing? By that rule we all should have stopped when ToC hit the raiders shelves. But if that happened we wouldn't have been able to be a part of one of the best fights in the game with the LK himself.
I just don't think it's completely fair to judge an xpac by what it initially releases. Judge it though it's completion. I'm talking about a final judgement. It's just fine, imo, to say that this or that isn't great or could use improvement, while that over there is good. The release of any game or xpac is never the finished product, it's the beginning of the story. And for all writers out there, you know that the beginning of a story is always the hardest part to write.
There's time for each xpac to play itself out, and I'm sure there's still plenty of time in this xpac for it to either horribly fail or rise to levels of awesomeness that none of us have yet to see.
In the meantime, watch out for those two-headed, teenage, transvestite tarantulas, they bite.
True story: I used to live in the Northeast, New England to be specific, New Hampshire, Maine and Connecicut to be even more specific. One of the great advantages of living in SW Connecicut is the train system. I could hop on a train and be into "The City" (New York City) in 45 minutes. It made it a great tool for dating or just fun with friends.
On a pre-Christmas Eve night (Dec 23) I boarded a train in Stamford, CT with a bunch of friends to tour Rockefeller Center and take a look at the famous Christmas tree and skating rink. The train brought us into Grand Central Station, we walked west along 42nd Street towards Broadway and Rockefeller Center. Not two blocks down we came across a woman who had eyes for you know who. She actually stopped and touched my arm and asked me if I wanted to have "a good time". It was with surprise that I noticed that it wasn't a woman at all, but a man in a mini-skirt and this cute little red top, it looked....er, moving on.
Politely I said no thanks, that I was going on a walk with my friends, but I wished her, um, him a good night. He winked at me and blew me a kiss, my friends and I chuckeled and went on with our night.
Later that night, after viewing the forgetable Christmas tree and being completely underwhelmed by Rockerfeller Center (it's significantly smaller than appears on TV), I was approached once again by a woman clearly dressed for warmer than 25 degree weather (F, not C). Once again, as before, even in the middle of all my friends of both sexes, I was offered the night of my life. To my everlasting astonishment, upon closer view, I noticed that it was yet again a man dressed as a woman, looking for the type of good time that I wasn't.
My friends and I pondered what the odds were that two transvestites approach me on the streets of New York City in the same night, both times while I was not walking alone but with a group of friends. A hundred billion to one? Who knows? And while this is not a commentary on my personal position of the transvestite lifestyle, I thougt it would make for a fascinating read nonetheless.
Cataclysm Xpac
So things aren't always what they seem, so what? With all the mumbo-jumbo talk going around about the success or failure of this current expansion, I wonder if anyone has looked closely enough at all of its features to make formulate an informed opinion worthy to be listened to? So what, any time anything undesireable makes its way into the game people should stop playing? By that rule we all should have stopped when ToC hit the raiders shelves. But if that happened we wouldn't have been able to be a part of one of the best fights in the game with the LK himself.
I just don't think it's completely fair to judge an xpac by what it initially releases. Judge it though it's completion. I'm talking about a final judgement. It's just fine, imo, to say that this or that isn't great or could use improvement, while that over there is good. The release of any game or xpac is never the finished product, it's the beginning of the story. And for all writers out there, you know that the beginning of a story is always the hardest part to write.
There's time for each xpac to play itself out, and I'm sure there's still plenty of time in this xpac for it to either horribly fail or rise to levels of awesomeness that none of us have yet to see.
In the meantime, watch out for those two-headed, teenage, transvestite tarantulas, they bite.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Why Acronyms Will Destroy Civilization!
Let me begin with my conclusion. Acronyms will destroy civilization because it is a rapid deformation of language, which if continued at its present pace, will destroy our ability to communicate true thought. WoW is the breeding ground of the earth’s demise!
The Beginning
I am fortunate to have English (or American English) as my first language. Much of the world is compelled to learn English in school, and does so quite proficiently. In the US we have the elective to learn other languages, but nothing is mandatory and most fake their way through foreign language courses just to get the grade then forget everything they “learned” when the semester is done.
I have taken it upon myself to learn another language proficiently, however, and try to learn others. I read, write and speak near perfect Spanish. Actually, the particular version I speak is sometimes called Castellano (Castilian)! It’s still Spanish, but as we know the same base language can be spoken differently by different peoples around the world. English is spoken in the US, Australia and England, but we all know that they sounds very different from one another. My teaching came from Argentina, heavily influenced by Spain, from whence Castilian originated, thereby the language considered to be spoken in Argentina is Castellano (or Castilian) – though they have their own flare that they’ve added, which I love.
Over time languages change, words are added, taken away, spellings change, meanings change, etc. But very recently in our civilization there is a new language being spoken by the youth and even the older of the world, Acronym! I’m going to here and now call Acronym a new language, even though I know it technically isn’t, but it’s fun and helps me to focus my theme for this post so freakin’ roll with it, will ya!
Acronym has existed as a rogue, silently stealthing its way into languages across the world. With the advent of the personal computer, email, cell phones, and finally texting, Acronym has exploded into a worldwide phenomenon. Unstoppable, Acronym is now, after thousands of years, poised to take over the world and destroy human civilization as we know it. Acronym first planted its roots in video games more than two decades ago. Slowly unspooling itself from arcade to console to computer to cell phone based games, it’s now so deeply rooted in our civilizations psyche it may already be too late to quell.
Already the chosen language for cell phone texting, Acronym has invaded all MMO’s ever invented…ever. It’s emergence in WoW is not a coincidence, however, and has been planned for nearly 3,000 years.
OK, That Wasn’t the Beginning…This is… really!
3,000 years ago an ancient philosopher once said:
“The day efficiency is more important than constancy, shall be the day the earth takes her last breath. SISBD” -Philosopher Dude
So for 3,000 years, the great debate in the real scientific community isn’t whether man evolved from apes (not today’s subject, you’ll get banned for commenting about it), it’s been a raging debate over the meaning of those five letters, S.I.S.B.D. It does not translate into any known language of the day, but there are some theories floating around, some making more sense than others. Here is the list of the most famous probable translations.
SISBD = Sugar In Succulent Blueberry Dumplings!
SISBD = So, I suck Bob Dylan?
SISBD = Somewhere In Syria are Blue Dragons! (mostly discarded, not because Dragons don’t exist, but because of the use of the word “are” – scientists are strange)
SISBD = Shorter Installation Sessions Bring Drachmas! (Possible irony in use here)
SISBD = So It Shall Be Done! (Pff, that’s just stupid)
SISBD = Shadow Bolt > Incinerate > Shadow Bolt > Bane of Agony > Doomguard
In a conference this past June in Jerilisha (I forgot the country), it was decided by a panel of judges that SISBD’s true meaning as an acronym, which translated was a spell rotation for an Affliction Warlock. The philosopher, by using this acronym was saying that not only was the end of the world beginning 3,000 years ago, but also that the MMORPG World of Warcraft would be the vehicle that would drive our civilization into oblivion.
Stunned at such a powerful revelation, Activision Blizzard has maintained a tight lid on the news from the scientific community. But now we know that WoW is destroying Civilization by not only utilizing Acronym but demanding its usage by all players, old and young.
Don’t ever text? Too bad, learn Acronym or die! Not a tweeting kind of person, suck it! You must learn Acronym or you won’t be that 1M DPS for 25M ICC that can PST GS/ACHIEVE. That’s final and there’s nothing we can do about it.
Path of Enlightenment
I began my rebellion against Acronym nearly two years ago. I met someone else who also despised the power that Acronym had over WoW players. We met secretly in a room above a shop in Dalaran, talking of a world of complete sentences and verbs and adverbs. It was intoxicating. We were enlisted as official rebels by a guild leader who we felt truly understood our hate of Acronym. Day after day we would post recruitment ads in trade chat using nouns, verbs, adjectives and even a gerund once in a while (gerunds were always highly stimulating).
One day I was asked to join a group into Ice Crown Citadel 10 Man Raid Instance. I offered my services and was led by the raid leader into a room set aside for teaching new raiders. In this room I was faced with my deepest fears, from trash mobs to bosses to other damage dealers standing in fire (oh the horror). But it all had a purpose, to enlighten me and teach me the errors of my ways.
I am ever grateful to that raid leader for teaching me that Acronym love me, and I love Acronym. I don’t know how I could ever live without Acronym. You must understand that the philosopher had it wrong all those years ago, efficiency is not the death of mother earth, adverbs are.
I now sing the praises of Acronym to any and all who will listen to the truth. Whoever said, “Acronyms will destroy civilization because it is a rapid deformation of language, which if continued at its present pace, will destroy our ability to communicate true thought. WoW is the breeding ground of the earth’s demise!” is a poor soul in need of a hug, a nice guild, and some NAXX 25M as DPS, just pst GS/ACHIEVE for invite.
The Beginning
I am fortunate to have English (or American English) as my first language. Much of the world is compelled to learn English in school, and does so quite proficiently. In the US we have the elective to learn other languages, but nothing is mandatory and most fake their way through foreign language courses just to get the grade then forget everything they “learned” when the semester is done.
I have taken it upon myself to learn another language proficiently, however, and try to learn others. I read, write and speak near perfect Spanish. Actually, the particular version I speak is sometimes called Castellano (Castilian)! It’s still Spanish, but as we know the same base language can be spoken differently by different peoples around the world. English is spoken in the US, Australia and England, but we all know that they sounds very different from one another. My teaching came from Argentina, heavily influenced by Spain, from whence Castilian originated, thereby the language considered to be spoken in Argentina is Castellano (or Castilian) – though they have their own flare that they’ve added, which I love.
Over time languages change, words are added, taken away, spellings change, meanings change, etc. But very recently in our civilization there is a new language being spoken by the youth and even the older of the world, Acronym! I’m going to here and now call Acronym a new language, even though I know it technically isn’t, but it’s fun and helps me to focus my theme for this post so freakin’ roll with it, will ya!
Acronym has existed as a rogue, silently stealthing its way into languages across the world. With the advent of the personal computer, email, cell phones, and finally texting, Acronym has exploded into a worldwide phenomenon. Unstoppable, Acronym is now, after thousands of years, poised to take over the world and destroy human civilization as we know it. Acronym first planted its roots in video games more than two decades ago. Slowly unspooling itself from arcade to console to computer to cell phone based games, it’s now so deeply rooted in our civilizations psyche it may already be too late to quell.
Already the chosen language for cell phone texting, Acronym has invaded all MMO’s ever invented…ever. It’s emergence in WoW is not a coincidence, however, and has been planned for nearly 3,000 years.
OK, That Wasn’t the Beginning…This is… really!
3,000 years ago an ancient philosopher once said:
“The day efficiency is more important than constancy, shall be the day the earth takes her last breath. SISBD” -Philosopher Dude
So for 3,000 years, the great debate in the real scientific community isn’t whether man evolved from apes (not today’s subject, you’ll get banned for commenting about it), it’s been a raging debate over the meaning of those five letters, S.I.S.B.D. It does not translate into any known language of the day, but there are some theories floating around, some making more sense than others. Here is the list of the most famous probable translations.
SISBD = Sugar In Succulent Blueberry Dumplings!
SISBD = So, I suck Bob Dylan?
SISBD = Somewhere In Syria are Blue Dragons! (mostly discarded, not because Dragons don’t exist, but because of the use of the word “are” – scientists are strange)
SISBD = Shorter Installation Sessions Bring Drachmas! (Possible irony in use here)
SISBD = So It Shall Be Done! (Pff, that’s just stupid)
SISBD = Shadow Bolt > Incinerate > Shadow Bolt > Bane of Agony > Doomguard
In a conference this past June in Jerilisha (I forgot the country), it was decided by a panel of judges that SISBD’s true meaning as an acronym, which translated was a spell rotation for an Affliction Warlock. The philosopher, by using this acronym was saying that not only was the end of the world beginning 3,000 years ago, but also that the MMORPG World of Warcraft would be the vehicle that would drive our civilization into oblivion.
Stunned at such a powerful revelation, Activision Blizzard has maintained a tight lid on the news from the scientific community. But now we know that WoW is destroying Civilization by not only utilizing Acronym but demanding its usage by all players, old and young.
Don’t ever text? Too bad, learn Acronym or die! Not a tweeting kind of person, suck it! You must learn Acronym or you won’t be that 1M DPS for 25M ICC that can PST GS/ACHIEVE. That’s final and there’s nothing we can do about it.
Path of Enlightenment
I began my rebellion against Acronym nearly two years ago. I met someone else who also despised the power that Acronym had over WoW players. We met secretly in a room above a shop in Dalaran, talking of a world of complete sentences and verbs and adverbs. It was intoxicating. We were enlisted as official rebels by a guild leader who we felt truly understood our hate of Acronym. Day after day we would post recruitment ads in trade chat using nouns, verbs, adjectives and even a gerund once in a while (gerunds were always highly stimulating).
One day I was asked to join a group into Ice Crown Citadel 10 Man Raid Instance. I offered my services and was led by the raid leader into a room set aside for teaching new raiders. In this room I was faced with my deepest fears, from trash mobs to bosses to other damage dealers standing in fire (oh the horror). But it all had a purpose, to enlighten me and teach me the errors of my ways.
I am ever grateful to that raid leader for teaching me that Acronym love me, and I love Acronym. I don’t know how I could ever live without Acronym. You must understand that the philosopher had it wrong all those years ago, efficiency is not the death of mother earth, adverbs are.
I now sing the praises of Acronym to any and all who will listen to the truth. Whoever said, “Acronyms will destroy civilization because it is a rapid deformation of language, which if continued at its present pace, will destroy our ability to communicate true thought. WoW is the breeding ground of the earth’s demise!” is a poor soul in need of a hug, a nice guild, and some NAXX 25M as DPS, just pst GS/ACHIEVE for invite.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
DK's Are Fun! Fun, I Tell You!
If you have OCD.
Well I do, so that's a start. My first Death Knight was made with the help of my children. There was no way that I was going to create a DK without the input of my two boys. We debated for days, actually, trying to decide what race to choose. We knew that it had to be Alliance, all my main toons at the time were Alliance, so it only fit. We also agreed that it had to be a male, because I teach my kids that sexism is a good thing. (That last sentence is untrue, you know, a joke, just in case your jaw dropped too far). Actually we decided it would be a male because that was the next in line. I had created 1 male then 1 female then 1 male then 1 female, and so on and so forth, and so my DK had to be a male because that was the next one in the oder of things.
After about 4 days we finanlly decided to make a Night Elf. Firstly, I had no other NE toons, secondly, to be a master of Death and Decay with one who previously fought tooth and nail over the rights of tree spores and fruitlings seemed appropriately fitting. Having finally selected my male, NElf DK I entered the world of the DK for the first time.
The starting area questlines were astonishing. The story pulled me through and engulfed me round about. Every task had meaning, while providing learning and entertainment all along the way. I quickly grew into my first plate-wearing melee fighter and could feel the difference as I found myself well protected from outside forces. As I blew up an army that was clearly having a beach party, I was hooked. After leaving the starting area I quickly leveled up my DK to the point that he became my highest level toon, sitting at 72 and ready to push forward.
Then it happened...burnout. Ugh! Disease, Disease, attack, attack, death coil, dead, loot. The repitition burned me out big time. I fell back in love with my other toons, getting two of them to 80 before my DK ever sniffed 73. But a few months ago, after a year or so away, I went back to ol' NElf-boy and pushed him forward to 80. Then something really strange happened, I started to find playing a DK fun again.
DK's are unique, they can tank or dps with all three specs (for now at least). And all 3 specs, for however similar the opening two spells are, work very differently. I respecced my talents mabye 20 times, and enjoyed every single playstyle there was. Dual-wielding, 2H masher, Disease spreader, all of them held some appeal to me. I found that having a set rotation, unlike the priority system I was used to with my Shaman, allowed me to build up a muscle memory with my fingers and pay more attention to my surroundings. No longer did I have to focus on "when Proc A occurs do spell B then C unless proc X occurs then go to Z then A then B". No, for a DK the rotation is clear, and once in the groove I found myself, even as melee, looking around everywhere, trying to catch a loose mob with a death grip and pull it back to the Pali's consecration or interrupt spell casters with the choice of two different spell interrupts.
A smart person at the keyboard/mouse of a DK is a powerful and useful tool, and I found that the DK satisfied both my OCD (where a rotation was concerned) and my problem solving mind (where DK utility is concerned). For someone who really sucked at PvP I used my DK to help me break into the PvP world and feel more comfortable. I came to discover that DK's are more than just mashing 4 buttons over and over, owning a DK was an opportunity to be useful in ways that I hadn't before because I was not as aware of what was going on around me. My DK taught me how to be raid aware while in melee, which has translated to other melee classes I play with. With it's static rotation a player simply has more brain power to devote to everything else around him/her.
Being a greater part of the failure or success of a group has been extremely satisfying, and I owe it all to my DK. DK's are fun, if you have OCD; I do, so I'm having fun with mine.
Well I do, so that's a start. My first Death Knight was made with the help of my children. There was no way that I was going to create a DK without the input of my two boys. We debated for days, actually, trying to decide what race to choose. We knew that it had to be Alliance, all my main toons at the time were Alliance, so it only fit. We also agreed that it had to be a male, because I teach my kids that sexism is a good thing. (That last sentence is untrue, you know, a joke, just in case your jaw dropped too far). Actually we decided it would be a male because that was the next in line. I had created 1 male then 1 female then 1 male then 1 female, and so on and so forth, and so my DK had to be a male because that was the next one in the oder of things.
After about 4 days we finanlly decided to make a Night Elf. Firstly, I had no other NE toons, secondly, to be a master of Death and Decay with one who previously fought tooth and nail over the rights of tree spores and fruitlings seemed appropriately fitting. Having finally selected my male, NElf DK I entered the world of the DK for the first time.
The starting area questlines were astonishing. The story pulled me through and engulfed me round about. Every task had meaning, while providing learning and entertainment all along the way. I quickly grew into my first plate-wearing melee fighter and could feel the difference as I found myself well protected from outside forces. As I blew up an army that was clearly having a beach party, I was hooked. After leaving the starting area I quickly leveled up my DK to the point that he became my highest level toon, sitting at 72 and ready to push forward.
Then it happened...burnout. Ugh! Disease, Disease, attack, attack, death coil, dead, loot. The repitition burned me out big time. I fell back in love with my other toons, getting two of them to 80 before my DK ever sniffed 73. But a few months ago, after a year or so away, I went back to ol' NElf-boy and pushed him forward to 80. Then something really strange happened, I started to find playing a DK fun again.
DK's are unique, they can tank or dps with all three specs (for now at least). And all 3 specs, for however similar the opening two spells are, work very differently. I respecced my talents mabye 20 times, and enjoyed every single playstyle there was. Dual-wielding, 2H masher, Disease spreader, all of them held some appeal to me. I found that having a set rotation, unlike the priority system I was used to with my Shaman, allowed me to build up a muscle memory with my fingers and pay more attention to my surroundings. No longer did I have to focus on "when Proc A occurs do spell B then C unless proc X occurs then go to Z then A then B". No, for a DK the rotation is clear, and once in the groove I found myself, even as melee, looking around everywhere, trying to catch a loose mob with a death grip and pull it back to the Pali's consecration or interrupt spell casters with the choice of two different spell interrupts.
A smart person at the keyboard/mouse of a DK is a powerful and useful tool, and I found that the DK satisfied both my OCD (where a rotation was concerned) and my problem solving mind (where DK utility is concerned). For someone who really sucked at PvP I used my DK to help me break into the PvP world and feel more comfortable. I came to discover that DK's are more than just mashing 4 buttons over and over, owning a DK was an opportunity to be useful in ways that I hadn't before because I was not as aware of what was going on around me. My DK taught me how to be raid aware while in melee, which has translated to other melee classes I play with. With it's static rotation a player simply has more brain power to devote to everything else around him/her.
Being a greater part of the failure or success of a group has been extremely satisfying, and I owe it all to my DK. DK's are fun, if you have OCD; I do, so I'm having fun with mine.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Flying Solo
Disclaimer: This post will contain short stories, personal reflections, and in-game experiences in order to convey the message intended. If you wish for a more controversial, theorycrafted, or general topic you are welcome to return on a day that I touch one of those subjects. Today...is not that day.
I'm quite positive that my story today won't reach many out there. What I mean is that some won't be able to empathise with my side, while others just might. But that's ok, because this story is about one man's perspective playing a game he loves. Glean from it what you may, you are welcome to stay and participate.
Alone
I play this game alone. Yes, my two main characters belong to a guild, and yes there are some really wonderful people in that guild that I've had some terriffic and stimulating conversations with. But really I play this game alone. To explain further, I have NO real life friends that play WoW. There may be some past acquaintences that play the game, but I'm sure I don't know about it. Additionally, I do not consider any person that I've met while playing WoW to be a real friend.
Friend and Friendly are definately two different words with two vastly different meanings in my book. Friendly involves being open, warm, inviting, courteous, helpful, polite, and generally nice to others. Sharing times and moments of success or laughter with other gamers is a good way to pass an evening, I believe. So often those in your guild are friendly to you, and you reciprocate the sentiments because that's what guildies do. Being friendly is a skill many, wonderful players have. Many a night has gone by where I've encountered a dozen or more truly friendly people. The game is filled with all kids of friendliness for me, that is indisputable in my case.
As I said, I don't consider anyone I play WoW with as a Friend. Friend to me carries a significant weight and meaning. There's not one other player who has held me in their arms when a family member died. Nobody has offered to watch my children while I go to yet another doctor who can't seem to help me fix my back. (Granted, most don't live near me, but that's not the point). I'm pretty sure that nobody I have every played with would be willing to die for me. Whatever definition you or I choose for a Friend, for my part I can say that I do have many true friends that are a part of my real life. It's just that currently, none have the habit of embarking on a virutal life in the same realm that I have chosen.
Impressions
Definitions aside, it's always been an interesting journey playing this game alone. Interesting in that some of my experiences occured precisely because I don't play with anyone I know or anyone who I consider a friend. I'm a hard nut to crack as is, I just don't like letting people into my life until I feel that they are really serious about being a real friend to me. As a result I close myself off to a lot of people, sometimes to my detriment. Often I have seen two people questing together and can't help wonder if they always do that. Are those two real life friends? Maybe they are even married? When I see people like this bouncing around Azeroth I can't but help feel a little jealous for not having the opportunity to share my experiences with someone else.
I've gone on quests with guild-mates before, but somehow it always seemed like working in my back yard on a Saturday...instead of watching College Football. I've had to, out of courtesy and necessity, shared with a few guild-mates my physical handicaps because it's affected how active I can be with others. But even those times when people display simpathy for my condition, I may feel gratitude for thier kindness but I know they still can't be my friend. I have friends in real life who have come to my home to lift me off the floor when I can't get up. There have been others who have taken my children to the park because I can't get up and play soccer with my kid. I can't tell you how much I wish that they could enjoy this game with me, where we could be the two people to run around Azeroth together getting high on falling from the tops of mountains or raiding the lair of a particularly nasty bear.
I am happy to have real life friends who care for me and laugh with me. I'm happy to have friendly folk in WoW that I can play with. But oh how I wish that I could have a friend play the game with me. I play because I don't move around so well. I mean, I could watch TV a lot, but I don't. I already read A TON each year, so I'm still educating myself. Sitting at the computer for a couple hours a day is a relief to me, it's something I can do. I just wish that I could do it with someone else I knew.
Two Friends
I lied. I am not alone. My kids play with me...sort of. I only have one account, so they sort of just watch me play. But it's still a lot of fun. Last night I was in Pit of Saron, and upon approaching the final boss both me and my youngest son began chanting the opening words of Scourgelord Tyrannus together. It was innocent, fun, a diversion and a good moment with a boy I love. It may be cheating, to consider a son a friend, but since no other friends my age play this game, he's about the closest thing I get to playing with some kind of friend. And I love it.
Summary
I don't resent not having a real life friend to play with. I don't really care if it seems childish to want to have a playmate. Actually, I think it's probably natural. I've seen and heard stories of people in-game becoming real friends with others, I think that's great. I don't think it could ever happen with me, but that may come from my personality's unwillingness to let people into my life to such a degree that they could even approach friend status. Unless I met some of my guildies in real life, they will never be friends. I'll continue to play with these friendly folk, and be friendly in return. Perhaps one person, one day will surprise me. Maybe I'll strike up a conversation with someone who will one day become my best friend. I'm not completely closed to the idea.
If you have friends you play with, good for you. I really envy you and your friends. It's got to be a great thing to share such a unique, common interest. Thanks for stopping by and reading some of these words today. It was very...friendly of you.
I'm quite positive that my story today won't reach many out there. What I mean is that some won't be able to empathise with my side, while others just might. But that's ok, because this story is about one man's perspective playing a game he loves. Glean from it what you may, you are welcome to stay and participate.
Alone
I play this game alone. Yes, my two main characters belong to a guild, and yes there are some really wonderful people in that guild that I've had some terriffic and stimulating conversations with. But really I play this game alone. To explain further, I have NO real life friends that play WoW. There may be some past acquaintences that play the game, but I'm sure I don't know about it. Additionally, I do not consider any person that I've met while playing WoW to be a real friend.
Friend and Friendly are definately two different words with two vastly different meanings in my book. Friendly involves being open, warm, inviting, courteous, helpful, polite, and generally nice to others. Sharing times and moments of success or laughter with other gamers is a good way to pass an evening, I believe. So often those in your guild are friendly to you, and you reciprocate the sentiments because that's what guildies do. Being friendly is a skill many, wonderful players have. Many a night has gone by where I've encountered a dozen or more truly friendly people. The game is filled with all kids of friendliness for me, that is indisputable in my case.
As I said, I don't consider anyone I play WoW with as a Friend. Friend to me carries a significant weight and meaning. There's not one other player who has held me in their arms when a family member died. Nobody has offered to watch my children while I go to yet another doctor who can't seem to help me fix my back. (Granted, most don't live near me, but that's not the point). I'm pretty sure that nobody I have every played with would be willing to die for me. Whatever definition you or I choose for a Friend, for my part I can say that I do have many true friends that are a part of my real life. It's just that currently, none have the habit of embarking on a virutal life in the same realm that I have chosen.
Impressions
Definitions aside, it's always been an interesting journey playing this game alone. Interesting in that some of my experiences occured precisely because I don't play with anyone I know or anyone who I consider a friend. I'm a hard nut to crack as is, I just don't like letting people into my life until I feel that they are really serious about being a real friend to me. As a result I close myself off to a lot of people, sometimes to my detriment. Often I have seen two people questing together and can't help wonder if they always do that. Are those two real life friends? Maybe they are even married? When I see people like this bouncing around Azeroth I can't but help feel a little jealous for not having the opportunity to share my experiences with someone else.
I've gone on quests with guild-mates before, but somehow it always seemed like working in my back yard on a Saturday...instead of watching College Football. I've had to, out of courtesy and necessity, shared with a few guild-mates my physical handicaps because it's affected how active I can be with others. But even those times when people display simpathy for my condition, I may feel gratitude for thier kindness but I know they still can't be my friend. I have friends in real life who have come to my home to lift me off the floor when I can't get up. There have been others who have taken my children to the park because I can't get up and play soccer with my kid. I can't tell you how much I wish that they could enjoy this game with me, where we could be the two people to run around Azeroth together getting high on falling from the tops of mountains or raiding the lair of a particularly nasty bear.
I am happy to have real life friends who care for me and laugh with me. I'm happy to have friendly folk in WoW that I can play with. But oh how I wish that I could have a friend play the game with me. I play because I don't move around so well. I mean, I could watch TV a lot, but I don't. I already read A TON each year, so I'm still educating myself. Sitting at the computer for a couple hours a day is a relief to me, it's something I can do. I just wish that I could do it with someone else I knew.
Two Friends
I lied. I am not alone. My kids play with me...sort of. I only have one account, so they sort of just watch me play. But it's still a lot of fun. Last night I was in Pit of Saron, and upon approaching the final boss both me and my youngest son began chanting the opening words of Scourgelord Tyrannus together. It was innocent, fun, a diversion and a good moment with a boy I love. It may be cheating, to consider a son a friend, but since no other friends my age play this game, he's about the closest thing I get to playing with some kind of friend. And I love it.
Summary
I don't resent not having a real life friend to play with. I don't really care if it seems childish to want to have a playmate. Actually, I think it's probably natural. I've seen and heard stories of people in-game becoming real friends with others, I think that's great. I don't think it could ever happen with me, but that may come from my personality's unwillingness to let people into my life to such a degree that they could even approach friend status. Unless I met some of my guildies in real life, they will never be friends. I'll continue to play with these friendly folk, and be friendly in return. Perhaps one person, one day will surprise me. Maybe I'll strike up a conversation with someone who will one day become my best friend. I'm not completely closed to the idea.
If you have friends you play with, good for you. I really envy you and your friends. It's got to be a great thing to share such a unique, common interest. Thanks for stopping by and reading some of these words today. It was very...friendly of you.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My Side of the Story - Chapter 1
I thougt I'd go ahead and get started...from my toon's point of view.
* * * * * * *
Everything suddenly went from cold and dark to warm and, what is that I feel? Light? What are those tall, dark things over there that block the…light from completely shining down on my cool face? I was told this would be a shocking change from the oblivion I lived in for the past five years. I was told that I would see and feel and experience things that were indescribable. Trees, that’s what they are, those tall, dark things that only allow small rays of light to shine and warm my cheeks. Yes, that’s the word they said I needed to remember, trees.
Oh, and what’s this? A tall…er, what’s the word…man with a yellow line over his head with a small dot below the line…and exclamation point, yes that’s it. A man with an exclamation point over his head, very weird, but they said to expect it.
And behind him, beautiful! A building, a church or cathedral or something like it…an abbey, yes that‘s it. They said there was another man in the abbey with an exclamation point over his head and that I needed to talk to both of them. Well, here goes nothing.
“Welcome, young Warlock,!” the man said to me. So that’s what I was, a Warlock. Interesting name.
“Gronthe, I need you to kill 10 Kobolds,” the man finished saying. So I was a Warlock named Gronthe, and I was being asked to kill these little vermin-like creatures called Kobolds. Well they must be bad because I was told that I wouldn’t be asked to do anything evil, that all my actions in the world to come will be for the greater good of…er, what’s the word…Azeroth, yes that’s it.
I accept.
Well let me see, I was told that I would have the ability to fight somehow. Look, a stick on my back, yes I’ll use this. Come here, little Kobolds, come out, come out wherever you are. I need to kill you with my stick. I’ll try and hit you real hard so you don’t suffer, just tell me where you are please. Oh man, why can’t I find them? Are they in the abbey? Nope, not in here. Maybe some guy around the side knows where I can find them. Oh look, another exclamation point.
You need some pelts or something from these wolves. Will they just give me them if I ask or do I have to kill them too? Oh, I have to kill them first then I get the pelts, well ok, I can do that. I can use my stick for that too.
Ugh, take that you little, nasty, dangerous Kobold and Wolf, how does it feel to taste my stick in your face? Well, you’re a bigger Kobold, a #3, I think you need to die too, but nobody said you were a #3. Oh no, please don’t kill me, no please don’t…Noooooooooooooooooooo!
It’s darker now, and shadowy, no light here. Where do I go? Well there’s an arrow on my map, I’ll follow that. Oh look, my dead body, let me go see what it looks like. What’s this? Do I want to come back to life? Duh, of course! Nice, I’m alive again. Wait, what’s that? S.h.a.d.o.w. B.o.l.t. I’ll try that instead of my stick. Ooooh, nice! Those Kobolds die much more quickly now.
Ok, so now I’ve done a bunch of these little questy thingies, I’ve got a bit-o-learning about how to be a Warlock from my Lock trainer, yippee! I’ve even got a few new…er, what’s the word…spells to use against these nefarious creatures. Now they tell me that I need to go to Goldshire. Great, I don’t suppose they could point me in the right direction. Well I guess I’ll just follow this road here, yes this road will do nicely.
* * * * * * *
I remember the next part very clearly, I walked out of the gates of…Northshire, yes Northshire, and all of a sudden it got darker again. There were a lot more trees here than I thought were possible, and I think it was night, I was frightened out of my wits. “Just stay on the path, stay on the path” I continued to tell myself. Sooner or later you’ll reach this Goldshire place. I placed one foot in front of the other, stopping every now and then to glance around me trying to spy any enemy that desired to waylay me while I wandered aimlessly among the dirt roads of this intimidating forest.
Suddenly I noticed some lights in the distance, and people, people with blue words or names or something over their head. And flags on the ground, and people fighting with each other. I wondered if this was your orientation to Goldshire, like you had to fight the local knight to prove your worth or something. As nobody asked to fight with me I walked into a building that looked like a friendly inn. To my great pleasure that’s exactly what it was.
Nobody was particularly friendly, I still felt alone and scared in this world. I was told that I could grow into a powerful Warlock, a being of immense but dark powers. But at this moment I felt kind of stupid, I had no idea what to do next. I see more exclamations, but I don’t want to do a questy thingy right now, I’m hungry.
“Do you have any food, or maybe a place to sleep?” I asked the innkeeper.
“Hello!” was his only response.
“Do you have any food please?” I queried again.
“Light be with you!”
“I clicked on your shoulder, can’t you say anything else? Dammit!” Then I remembered I needed to tap him with my right hand instead of my left. Yes, food!
I went upstairs and lay myself down in a bed, even though there was this weird dude with purple sissy robes standing at the foot of my bed. I was warm and full of a delightful pumpkin, but I was still scared. I know I hadn’t mastered my powers, and I couldn’t find my new trainer. Where was he, or she? Alone in a strange bed, in a strange inn, in a strange world. What was going to become of me?
* * * * * * *
Everything suddenly went from cold and dark to warm and, what is that I feel? Light? What are those tall, dark things over there that block the…light from completely shining down on my cool face? I was told this would be a shocking change from the oblivion I lived in for the past five years. I was told that I would see and feel and experience things that were indescribable. Trees, that’s what they are, those tall, dark things that only allow small rays of light to shine and warm my cheeks. Yes, that’s the word they said I needed to remember, trees.
Oh, and what’s this? A tall…er, what’s the word…man with a yellow line over his head with a small dot below the line…and exclamation point, yes that’s it. A man with an exclamation point over his head, very weird, but they said to expect it.
And behind him, beautiful! A building, a church or cathedral or something like it…an abbey, yes that‘s it. They said there was another man in the abbey with an exclamation point over his head and that I needed to talk to both of them. Well, here goes nothing.
“Welcome, young Warlock,!” the man said to me. So that’s what I was, a Warlock. Interesting name.
“Gronthe, I need you to kill 10 Kobolds,” the man finished saying. So I was a Warlock named Gronthe, and I was being asked to kill these little vermin-like creatures called Kobolds. Well they must be bad because I was told that I wouldn’t be asked to do anything evil, that all my actions in the world to come will be for the greater good of…er, what’s the word…Azeroth, yes that’s it.
I accept.
Well let me see, I was told that I would have the ability to fight somehow. Look, a stick on my back, yes I’ll use this. Come here, little Kobolds, come out, come out wherever you are. I need to kill you with my stick. I’ll try and hit you real hard so you don’t suffer, just tell me where you are please. Oh man, why can’t I find them? Are they in the abbey? Nope, not in here. Maybe some guy around the side knows where I can find them. Oh look, another exclamation point.
You need some pelts or something from these wolves. Will they just give me them if I ask or do I have to kill them too? Oh, I have to kill them first then I get the pelts, well ok, I can do that. I can use my stick for that too.
Ugh, take that you little, nasty, dangerous Kobold and Wolf, how does it feel to taste my stick in your face? Well, you’re a bigger Kobold, a #3, I think you need to die too, but nobody said you were a #3. Oh no, please don’t kill me, no please don’t…Noooooooooooooooooooo!
It’s darker now, and shadowy, no light here. Where do I go? Well there’s an arrow on my map, I’ll follow that. Oh look, my dead body, let me go see what it looks like. What’s this? Do I want to come back to life? Duh, of course! Nice, I’m alive again. Wait, what’s that? S.h.a.d.o.w. B.o.l.t. I’ll try that instead of my stick. Ooooh, nice! Those Kobolds die much more quickly now.
Ok, so now I’ve done a bunch of these little questy thingies, I’ve got a bit-o-learning about how to be a Warlock from my Lock trainer, yippee! I’ve even got a few new…er, what’s the word…spells to use against these nefarious creatures. Now they tell me that I need to go to Goldshire. Great, I don’t suppose they could point me in the right direction. Well I guess I’ll just follow this road here, yes this road will do nicely.
* * * * * * *
I remember the next part very clearly, I walked out of the gates of…Northshire, yes Northshire, and all of a sudden it got darker again. There were a lot more trees here than I thought were possible, and I think it was night, I was frightened out of my wits. “Just stay on the path, stay on the path” I continued to tell myself. Sooner or later you’ll reach this Goldshire place. I placed one foot in front of the other, stopping every now and then to glance around me trying to spy any enemy that desired to waylay me while I wandered aimlessly among the dirt roads of this intimidating forest.
Suddenly I noticed some lights in the distance, and people, people with blue words or names or something over their head. And flags on the ground, and people fighting with each other. I wondered if this was your orientation to Goldshire, like you had to fight the local knight to prove your worth or something. As nobody asked to fight with me I walked into a building that looked like a friendly inn. To my great pleasure that’s exactly what it was.
Nobody was particularly friendly, I still felt alone and scared in this world. I was told that I could grow into a powerful Warlock, a being of immense but dark powers. But at this moment I felt kind of stupid, I had no idea what to do next. I see more exclamations, but I don’t want to do a questy thingy right now, I’m hungry.
“Do you have any food, or maybe a place to sleep?” I asked the innkeeper.
“Hello!” was his only response.
“Do you have any food please?” I queried again.
“Light be with you!”
“I clicked on your shoulder, can’t you say anything else? Dammit!” Then I remembered I needed to tap him with my right hand instead of my left. Yes, food!
I went upstairs and lay myself down in a bed, even though there was this weird dude with purple sissy robes standing at the foot of my bed. I was warm and full of a delightful pumpkin, but I was still scared. I know I hadn’t mastered my powers, and I couldn’t find my new trainer. Where was he, or she? Alone in a strange bed, in a strange inn, in a strange world. What was going to become of me?
Making a Story Good
Do you have any stories to tell from your time playing WoW? If yes, then what makes it a good story? Does it need colorful characters or are the events (a.k.a. plot) sufficient to engage the reader in your happenings? Is it funny?
Actually, that last one is a bit nebulous, I mean we all come from different parts of the globe or different States and regions, and sometimes what is funny in Amsterdam isn't funny in Montana. I concede that there are many universalities of humor, so I guess I'll let that last question slide for now.
If you were to put to story your experiences in WoW, how would you frame it? Would you tell the story from the point of view of your main toon or even an alt, or would you tell your story from the 'real you' point of view? Is there anything that you would want to keep secret from a group of strangers over the internet, or would you be willing to tell about everything?
My personal belief, and I am by no means a professional or expert (the comments made here today are the sole property of the author and in no way represent the thoughts or beliefs of Deuwowlity.com or its affiliates). To make a good story I believe you need to start with good characters. The character needs to be somebody that I can invest in emotionally, whether for good or bad, I need to feel something about them. That can be accomplished by having that person pass through a personal trial in their lives that makes me feel sorry for them or by having them commit atrocities that cannot be forgiven (well, maybe not that bad, but doing mean stuff would suffice), no matter how much remorse they may or may not feel. So extremes is the method I'll implement for my character. Let me share a few examples of snapshots of 3 people's stories from the game.
Example:
1) While on a pug run I really didn't say anything. I wasn't at the top of the damage charts and kinda just drank some water every now and then. It was fine, I was fine, it was nice.
2) ...And then this jerk was, like, yelling at me so I told him to @#$@# off, lol. @#$#@$ I #$*$ hate noobs, they are nothing but a bunch of @#$&#$ m&s'ers that can't tell the @#$&%^^% time of day if their @#$& was stuck to their @#$%&.
3) It was so sad. I sat there at the end of the run frozen, unsure of what to do. Somebody in this group had said something to make me remember about the day my father and mother died. I felt a touch on the shoulder, no, not a touch, but I felt something. I stared at the computer screen with tears in my eyes, this guy, this complete stranger was saying sorry to have offended me. But I'm not offended, I just remember how much I love my parents.
So I guess you figured out that #1 was an example of a non-extreme situation and partial story. #2 & 3, however, are short examples of other stories I can tell and the perspective I can take. I, for one, would probably want to hear more about #2 or 3, but would be dead bored listening to or reading a post about #1's experience.
People go for stories that make them feel something. Good characters are important, a good plot really helps move those characters through their journey, and then of course there are the very fine, technical points that make a story understandable.
I think I'll write my story one day. I've shared parts of it here, just check out the archives for some of my first posts on my motives for playing this game. But those are just snippets of my story, and they are from the perspective of the 'real life me', not the in-game me. The second is the story that I'd like to write. And I will write it, but it may take some time to post, so I ain't making any promises I can't keep. I won't set a release date and then (like many say Activision is doing) push for a release date before it's ready.
I would love to hear some of your story. Obviously the whole thing would take a long time, so maybe just one scene. Is your character someone that I could feel something for (either good or bad)? Does your plot make sense and is it any different from anyone else's story, if so how?
What I wonder is if enough people told their story, how many of them would start to intersect until we arrived at a complete picture of the game and its community?
p.s. Completely unrelated. I read an interview with Ghostcrawler and he mentioned that Blizz was researching about how many people actually use all 10 character slots - not just toss on a few level 1's, but actually USE them to better determine if they want to raise the character slot level to 12 (or some other random #). I think this "research" is stupid, because if anybody is anything like me, then you're saving slots on your main's server for some cataclysm alts. This would mean that the results of this research will be skewed and more than likely it won't come to fruition. They should let common sense rule out, not emperical evidence. Sometimes you can make legitimate statistics bolster your argument depending on the definition of said statistics.
Just give us 2 extra freakin' slots already!
Thanks for stopping by Deuwowlity. I look forward to hearing from you.
Actually, that last one is a bit nebulous, I mean we all come from different parts of the globe or different States and regions, and sometimes what is funny in Amsterdam isn't funny in Montana. I concede that there are many universalities of humor, so I guess I'll let that last question slide for now.
If you were to put to story your experiences in WoW, how would you frame it? Would you tell the story from the point of view of your main toon or even an alt, or would you tell your story from the 'real you' point of view? Is there anything that you would want to keep secret from a group of strangers over the internet, or would you be willing to tell about everything?
My personal belief, and I am by no means a professional or expert (the comments made here today are the sole property of the author and in no way represent the thoughts or beliefs of Deuwowlity.com or its affiliates). To make a good story I believe you need to start with good characters. The character needs to be somebody that I can invest in emotionally, whether for good or bad, I need to feel something about them. That can be accomplished by having that person pass through a personal trial in their lives that makes me feel sorry for them or by having them commit atrocities that cannot be forgiven (well, maybe not that bad, but doing mean stuff would suffice), no matter how much remorse they may or may not feel. So extremes is the method I'll implement for my character. Let me share a few examples of snapshots of 3 people's stories from the game.
Example:
1) While on a pug run I really didn't say anything. I wasn't at the top of the damage charts and kinda just drank some water every now and then. It was fine, I was fine, it was nice.
2) ...And then this jerk was, like, yelling at me so I told him to @#$@# off, lol. @#$#@$ I #$*$ hate noobs, they are nothing but a bunch of @#$&#$ m&s'ers that can't tell the @#$&%^^% time of day if their @#$& was stuck to their @#$%&.
3) It was so sad. I sat there at the end of the run frozen, unsure of what to do. Somebody in this group had said something to make me remember about the day my father and mother died. I felt a touch on the shoulder, no, not a touch, but I felt something. I stared at the computer screen with tears in my eyes, this guy, this complete stranger was saying sorry to have offended me. But I'm not offended, I just remember how much I love my parents.
So I guess you figured out that #1 was an example of a non-extreme situation and partial story. #2 & 3, however, are short examples of other stories I can tell and the perspective I can take. I, for one, would probably want to hear more about #2 or 3, but would be dead bored listening to or reading a post about #1's experience.
People go for stories that make them feel something. Good characters are important, a good plot really helps move those characters through their journey, and then of course there are the very fine, technical points that make a story understandable.
I think I'll write my story one day. I've shared parts of it here, just check out the archives for some of my first posts on my motives for playing this game. But those are just snippets of my story, and they are from the perspective of the 'real life me', not the in-game me. The second is the story that I'd like to write. And I will write it, but it may take some time to post, so I ain't making any promises I can't keep. I won't set a release date and then (like many say Activision is doing) push for a release date before it's ready.
I would love to hear some of your story. Obviously the whole thing would take a long time, so maybe just one scene. Is your character someone that I could feel something for (either good or bad)? Does your plot make sense and is it any different from anyone else's story, if so how?
What I wonder is if enough people told their story, how many of them would start to intersect until we arrived at a complete picture of the game and its community?
p.s. Completely unrelated. I read an interview with Ghostcrawler and he mentioned that Blizz was researching about how many people actually use all 10 character slots - not just toss on a few level 1's, but actually USE them to better determine if they want to raise the character slot level to 12 (or some other random #). I think this "research" is stupid, because if anybody is anything like me, then you're saving slots on your main's server for some cataclysm alts. This would mean that the results of this research will be skewed and more than likely it won't come to fruition. They should let common sense rule out, not emperical evidence. Sometimes you can make legitimate statistics bolster your argument depending on the definition of said statistics.
Just give us 2 extra freakin' slots already!
Thanks for stopping by Deuwowlity. I look forward to hearing from you.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Black Hole
“Service to a King often comes at a price. That price usually includes one’s own time, pleasures, will and every so often, dignity. But my service was no less worthy than hers, so why should I have been thrown out with the rotten kitchen scraps as if I had never served my master faithfully for more than two decades? More importantly, why is she so highly favored of a king that has known her less than a month? She is rotten, I say, rotten! I shall unveil her secret designs, even if it costs me my life.”
A little less than one month earlier…
“My lord, my lord, Princess Aielandi shall present herself before your lordship within the hour with gifts from her homeland. So say the messengers.” I don’t know why I was breathing hard, unless you factor in the 569 steps it took to reach the top of the King’s tower. I, Torm Yailhunt, was used to more composure from myself than I displayed before the king at this moment. I knew I needed to calm myself more or the king would grow suspicious of both me and the arrival of Princess Aielandi. So I gathered myself into the form of a statue and continued my message to the king.
“Princess Aielandi of the southern-most realm of our lands wishes to abide in your presence while the gifts are presented. Although it is custom in her lands to have her servants enter before with such gifts, she wishes to be present at her unveiling. The gift she brings must be remarkable indeed if she is to break with her own tradition. I shall make all necessary arrangement for her housing, she shall be cared for greater than all but yourself, sire.”
Bowing to my King was second nature to me. I actually stopped thinking about what it meant after the first year. But he enjoys watching others bow to him, but he’s never killed anyone for forgetting or for unenthusiastic bows, but I still don’t think I will ever test him on that note. A nod from his head is all that I require to know that my actions are his will. And with a nod I strode from the room back down the tower stairs and into the courtyard to await the Princess’ arrival.
I managed all the King’s affairs, and did it with precision. By the time the Princess had arrived all arrangements had been settled for her stay at the castle for an indefinite period of time. Servants had been assigned to guide and assist the servants she was already bringing with her. A guard had been set around the Princess, 8 of the noblest and mighty knights of our King’s realm (those not guarding the king) were assigned to keep her alive at the cost of all their lives. This was in addition to the guard that she brought with her.
The southern-most realm had been a mystery to many, until recently. Most thought it a mountainous jungle region where civilization was sparse. Certainly it wasn’t the best place for crops, and game was equally delicious as it was venomous. Nobody really expected there to be a thriving kingdom among those trees and mountains, we mostly believed it to be terrain unfit for life…well, respectable, human life to be exact.
Princess Aielandi was the contradiction of our beliefs, and her presence signaled a renewed hope for further exploration of our world and the hope of new peoples heretofore undiscovered. And here Princess Aielandi stood before me, having descended from her carriage and taken three long strides she looked closely into my eyes and smiled. So far so good, I thought to myself. I felt and ease and a sense of comfort that made my mind feel free and lively, but my heart questioned it. Quickly I shut the door on my heart, all seemed in perfect order.
“It is an honor, Princess Aielandi, to welcome you to the King’s realm,” I said cordially. “Our people’s hopes and dreams have been reawakened by your presence. The King awaits the honor of your presence and is particularly curious of the gift you bring and, might I add, the manner of its giving.”
In the moments that followed, most of which I strain to remember now, I heard flow from her lips the most melodious and beautiful voice I ever recall hearing in all my days. The music of it washed over my senses and filled my mind with images of glorious mountain peaks, crystal clear flowing waters, brilliantly colorful animals grazing in the fields that stretched in front of a high mountain castle with golden battlements and silver trumpeters piercing the valleys with even the softest blows on their horns. Princess Aielandi was enchanting.
Upon reaching the King’s chamber at the top of the tower, Princess Aielandi, followed by myself and both of the guards now assigned to her, approached the King. Stopping at the squared carpet containing the royal seal of a mighty golden dragon on a dark green background, with the royal flower embroidered along the edges, Princess Aielandi fell to her knees and offered up her praise to my King. Then opening her hands she produced a small object, a ring.
This ring was made of a pure white element, nothing like gold or silver, but more like a white rock polished until the blaze of it drove your eyes away from its brightness. Set in the white, stone ring was a black jewel. The depths of it’s blackness made it appear nearly translucent, as if by looking at the stone you could see through it to anything that you wished, making it look like it wasn’t there at all, but a vision of another time or place or wherever the heart longed to go. I caught myself staring into the jewel, afraid to see something that would turn my focus away from my service to the King. Looking around a the guards I noticed that I wasn’t alone, all of them were in a trance-like state, all staring at the most startling and beautiful ring any of us had ever seen.
Raising his hand the Princess went forward and placed the ring on the first finger of the King’s right hand. The King smiled, thanked Princess Aielandi, and gave her leave. They would meet again this evening at a royal feast given in honor of the Princess’ visit.
Almost a month later…
Crash! The doors burst open and the new Queen Aielandi’s guard burst through and grabbed me by my neck, dragging me from my room, and down to the front gates of the castle.
“Out you go, traitor!” was the cry; first from the rabid guards, but then by the Queen herself. “You shall never again grace the presence of my lord. You are banished from the King’s realm. Now go! Go before I change my mind and have you executed.”
“You are a devil witch, and I shall kill you if you do not bring the axe upon my neck tonight. You shall be the one who was revealed as traitor, not me!” I yelled. Then, seeing the seething in her eyes and on her lips I did what any rational person would do, I ran. The guards were close behind, but I was able to find my way into a secret grove of trees, one of which was hollowed out in order to fit a small staircase that led to an underground room. Quickly I opened the side of the tree without being seen and slipped in just as a contingent passed by the grove. Safely inside I began my plan for revenge. But first, I had to figure out what changed the heart of the King I had loved and served for so many years.
I suspected, from the first day the Princess, now Queen, visited, that her gift was a trap, a black hole that would suck in the lives of anyone and anything that gazed into its depths for too long. How I was able to avert my gaze at that first meeting, or rather how I became aware of its power and had the will to pull my eyes from it is not so much a mystery to me as it was to the Princess then. She had noticed I did not stare into the gem’s depths as long as the king or the guards, but she didn’t know why. I did.
From my early years I had been the apprentice of a wizard. At least that’s what he called himself, to the general public he was a crazy old man. But what he taught me I had been able to use in the service of my King. More than one time did I save his life with magic, and more than once he thanked me. He knew of magic’s existence and enjoyed learning what he could on the subject. But few were the magicians of the land and fewer were powerful enough to do anything with it. All those with the greatest skill in magic were in service to the King. Until Princess Aielandi showed up. Her magic was darker, magic I had never encountered or learned of. I didn’t have a plan, yet, of how I would rescue the King from the Queen’s spell, but I knew it started and ended with the ring.
I was always one for talking in my sleep, or so said my apprentice. As the morning sun peered through the tiny shafts made for the entry of light into my hidden fortress, I remember saying “I shall unveil her secret designs, even if it costs me my life.”
A voice brought me out of my dream and into reality. “I can oblige you, if you wish.”
Terror, a new emotion for me, was the only feeling seen in my eyes as I looked up into those of Queen Aielandi. Her voice no longer enchanted me as it did the first day we met, I saw past her façade as easily as through clear glass. She continued in what was to be her final speech before my death. Dulcet to everyone else, bitterness rang in her tones.
“Nice place you have here, Torm. I especially enjoy the secrecy of your new home, so convenient for so many things. I see my your extensive library here that you are well versed in magic. Hmm, interesting. But not all kinds, am I correct?”
I nodded yes.
“Yes, well that’s too bad. I’m sure if you knew who I was you could defeat me, but alas you don’t, and so you shall die. It’s a pity, really, we could have been…” then running her finger down the side of my face, along the muscles in my neck and then slowly down my chest, then stomach, then…”friends.”
Repulsed by the idea of being “friends” with the sorceress, I grabbed her hand and yanked it away from my…
Then I noticed something else, she wore a ring on her hand. It was the virtual opposite of the King’s new ring. The stone that made the ring was pure black, and mirrored all light that touched it. Set among the dark stone was a crystal white gem. I looked up at her and smiled, confident I had found what she believed so clever to have disguised.
“White, not black. Very interesting, my Queen. The power to have all things escape you, all your feelings, even your will may leave you, but you need a black hole to draw it in. You needed the King to put on the ring of the black hole in order to receive all that you offered with your white hole ring.”
Startled the Queen tried to step back, gasping as my grip became more fierce. “White holes, black holes, nonsense you speak, Torm, nonsense I say.”
“Our astronomers have their theories, I don’t understand all of them. But often they speak of these black holes amongst the stars that suck in all goodness and light. I assume that if there are black holes that attract all to them, there must be opposition to it, white. These must eject light and matter and whatever else they choose. It seems to me that all it would take is for one to put on your ring with the crystal white stone, present the black hole to someone, and every desire of yours would be absorbed by the wearer of that ring.”
At this the Queen started and was about to scream until I continued talking. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my Queen,” as I pulled with my free and a knife from under the pillow. “It appears that you will not rule here after all, a new ruler shall emerge from this and I think I know who it will be.”
And with that I cut off the finger of the Queen, who collapsed on the floor to rise no more. Then I slid the ring from the Queen’s finger and placed it on my right hand. Pleased with my discovery I quickly and quietly made my way back to the castle and up the King’s tower to the royal chamber. The King stood as I approached the throne and asked, “Torm, what is it that you wish to do? Have you not been labeled a traitor? Why should I not kill you now? What is it that you want?”
The perfect question, what do I want?
Then I felt the power of my ring, and the King lowered his head, looked into the black gem on his ring, and the Kingdom became mine forever.
A little less than one month earlier…
“My lord, my lord, Princess Aielandi shall present herself before your lordship within the hour with gifts from her homeland. So say the messengers.” I don’t know why I was breathing hard, unless you factor in the 569 steps it took to reach the top of the King’s tower. I, Torm Yailhunt, was used to more composure from myself than I displayed before the king at this moment. I knew I needed to calm myself more or the king would grow suspicious of both me and the arrival of Princess Aielandi. So I gathered myself into the form of a statue and continued my message to the king.
“Princess Aielandi of the southern-most realm of our lands wishes to abide in your presence while the gifts are presented. Although it is custom in her lands to have her servants enter before with such gifts, she wishes to be present at her unveiling. The gift she brings must be remarkable indeed if she is to break with her own tradition. I shall make all necessary arrangement for her housing, she shall be cared for greater than all but yourself, sire.”
Bowing to my King was second nature to me. I actually stopped thinking about what it meant after the first year. But he enjoys watching others bow to him, but he’s never killed anyone for forgetting or for unenthusiastic bows, but I still don’t think I will ever test him on that note. A nod from his head is all that I require to know that my actions are his will. And with a nod I strode from the room back down the tower stairs and into the courtyard to await the Princess’ arrival.
I managed all the King’s affairs, and did it with precision. By the time the Princess had arrived all arrangements had been settled for her stay at the castle for an indefinite period of time. Servants had been assigned to guide and assist the servants she was already bringing with her. A guard had been set around the Princess, 8 of the noblest and mighty knights of our King’s realm (those not guarding the king) were assigned to keep her alive at the cost of all their lives. This was in addition to the guard that she brought with her.
The southern-most realm had been a mystery to many, until recently. Most thought it a mountainous jungle region where civilization was sparse. Certainly it wasn’t the best place for crops, and game was equally delicious as it was venomous. Nobody really expected there to be a thriving kingdom among those trees and mountains, we mostly believed it to be terrain unfit for life…well, respectable, human life to be exact.
Princess Aielandi was the contradiction of our beliefs, and her presence signaled a renewed hope for further exploration of our world and the hope of new peoples heretofore undiscovered. And here Princess Aielandi stood before me, having descended from her carriage and taken three long strides she looked closely into my eyes and smiled. So far so good, I thought to myself. I felt and ease and a sense of comfort that made my mind feel free and lively, but my heart questioned it. Quickly I shut the door on my heart, all seemed in perfect order.
“It is an honor, Princess Aielandi, to welcome you to the King’s realm,” I said cordially. “Our people’s hopes and dreams have been reawakened by your presence. The King awaits the honor of your presence and is particularly curious of the gift you bring and, might I add, the manner of its giving.”
In the moments that followed, most of which I strain to remember now, I heard flow from her lips the most melodious and beautiful voice I ever recall hearing in all my days. The music of it washed over my senses and filled my mind with images of glorious mountain peaks, crystal clear flowing waters, brilliantly colorful animals grazing in the fields that stretched in front of a high mountain castle with golden battlements and silver trumpeters piercing the valleys with even the softest blows on their horns. Princess Aielandi was enchanting.
Upon reaching the King’s chamber at the top of the tower, Princess Aielandi, followed by myself and both of the guards now assigned to her, approached the King. Stopping at the squared carpet containing the royal seal of a mighty golden dragon on a dark green background, with the royal flower embroidered along the edges, Princess Aielandi fell to her knees and offered up her praise to my King. Then opening her hands she produced a small object, a ring.
This ring was made of a pure white element, nothing like gold or silver, but more like a white rock polished until the blaze of it drove your eyes away from its brightness. Set in the white, stone ring was a black jewel. The depths of it’s blackness made it appear nearly translucent, as if by looking at the stone you could see through it to anything that you wished, making it look like it wasn’t there at all, but a vision of another time or place or wherever the heart longed to go. I caught myself staring into the jewel, afraid to see something that would turn my focus away from my service to the King. Looking around a the guards I noticed that I wasn’t alone, all of them were in a trance-like state, all staring at the most startling and beautiful ring any of us had ever seen.
Raising his hand the Princess went forward and placed the ring on the first finger of the King’s right hand. The King smiled, thanked Princess Aielandi, and gave her leave. They would meet again this evening at a royal feast given in honor of the Princess’ visit.
Almost a month later…
Crash! The doors burst open and the new Queen Aielandi’s guard burst through and grabbed me by my neck, dragging me from my room, and down to the front gates of the castle.
“Out you go, traitor!” was the cry; first from the rabid guards, but then by the Queen herself. “You shall never again grace the presence of my lord. You are banished from the King’s realm. Now go! Go before I change my mind and have you executed.”
“You are a devil witch, and I shall kill you if you do not bring the axe upon my neck tonight. You shall be the one who was revealed as traitor, not me!” I yelled. Then, seeing the seething in her eyes and on her lips I did what any rational person would do, I ran. The guards were close behind, but I was able to find my way into a secret grove of trees, one of which was hollowed out in order to fit a small staircase that led to an underground room. Quickly I opened the side of the tree without being seen and slipped in just as a contingent passed by the grove. Safely inside I began my plan for revenge. But first, I had to figure out what changed the heart of the King I had loved and served for so many years.
I suspected, from the first day the Princess, now Queen, visited, that her gift was a trap, a black hole that would suck in the lives of anyone and anything that gazed into its depths for too long. How I was able to avert my gaze at that first meeting, or rather how I became aware of its power and had the will to pull my eyes from it is not so much a mystery to me as it was to the Princess then. She had noticed I did not stare into the gem’s depths as long as the king or the guards, but she didn’t know why. I did.
From my early years I had been the apprentice of a wizard. At least that’s what he called himself, to the general public he was a crazy old man. But what he taught me I had been able to use in the service of my King. More than one time did I save his life with magic, and more than once he thanked me. He knew of magic’s existence and enjoyed learning what he could on the subject. But few were the magicians of the land and fewer were powerful enough to do anything with it. All those with the greatest skill in magic were in service to the King. Until Princess Aielandi showed up. Her magic was darker, magic I had never encountered or learned of. I didn’t have a plan, yet, of how I would rescue the King from the Queen’s spell, but I knew it started and ended with the ring.
I was always one for talking in my sleep, or so said my apprentice. As the morning sun peered through the tiny shafts made for the entry of light into my hidden fortress, I remember saying “I shall unveil her secret designs, even if it costs me my life.”
A voice brought me out of my dream and into reality. “I can oblige you, if you wish.”
Terror, a new emotion for me, was the only feeling seen in my eyes as I looked up into those of Queen Aielandi. Her voice no longer enchanted me as it did the first day we met, I saw past her façade as easily as through clear glass. She continued in what was to be her final speech before my death. Dulcet to everyone else, bitterness rang in her tones.
“Nice place you have here, Torm. I especially enjoy the secrecy of your new home, so convenient for so many things. I see my your extensive library here that you are well versed in magic. Hmm, interesting. But not all kinds, am I correct?”
I nodded yes.
“Yes, well that’s too bad. I’m sure if you knew who I was you could defeat me, but alas you don’t, and so you shall die. It’s a pity, really, we could have been…” then running her finger down the side of my face, along the muscles in my neck and then slowly down my chest, then stomach, then…”friends.”
Repulsed by the idea of being “friends” with the sorceress, I grabbed her hand and yanked it away from my…
Then I noticed something else, she wore a ring on her hand. It was the virtual opposite of the King’s new ring. The stone that made the ring was pure black, and mirrored all light that touched it. Set among the dark stone was a crystal white gem. I looked up at her and smiled, confident I had found what she believed so clever to have disguised.
“White, not black. Very interesting, my Queen. The power to have all things escape you, all your feelings, even your will may leave you, but you need a black hole to draw it in. You needed the King to put on the ring of the black hole in order to receive all that you offered with your white hole ring.”
Startled the Queen tried to step back, gasping as my grip became more fierce. “White holes, black holes, nonsense you speak, Torm, nonsense I say.”
“Our astronomers have their theories, I don’t understand all of them. But often they speak of these black holes amongst the stars that suck in all goodness and light. I assume that if there are black holes that attract all to them, there must be opposition to it, white. These must eject light and matter and whatever else they choose. It seems to me that all it would take is for one to put on your ring with the crystal white stone, present the black hole to someone, and every desire of yours would be absorbed by the wearer of that ring.”
At this the Queen started and was about to scream until I continued talking. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my Queen,” as I pulled with my free and a knife from under the pillow. “It appears that you will not rule here after all, a new ruler shall emerge from this and I think I know who it will be.”
And with that I cut off the finger of the Queen, who collapsed on the floor to rise no more. Then I slid the ring from the Queen’s finger and placed it on my right hand. Pleased with my discovery I quickly and quietly made my way back to the castle and up the King’s tower to the royal chamber. The King stood as I approached the throne and asked, “Torm, what is it that you wish to do? Have you not been labeled a traitor? Why should I not kill you now? What is it that you want?”
The perfect question, what do I want?
Then I felt the power of my ring, and the King lowered his head, looked into the black gem on his ring, and the Kingdom became mine forever.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Girl Meets Guy - Guy Saves Girl
I don’t often post twice in the same day, but I came across a story that is truly remarkable. I was browsing a couple stories on wow.com (formerly wow insider) and found an article “Breakfast Topic: When your gaming get emotionally charged”. In the comments were many sad stories of people who were treated horribly by other players, most of the time because they were trying something new. In their quest to learn they found other players who had zero tolerance for anything less than perfection (in their minds).
Some may say this is the exception to the rule, that most WoW players are friendly and understanding, but there are more comments on this article than I’ve seen in a very, very long time. Maybe bad behavior is more prevalent than we think? Anyway, that’s not what I want to talk about. On page 5 of the comments (I usually don’t scan past page 1, but so many of the stories related were extremely compelling) there was a story that made me think “Fairy tales still do exist”. Let me relate it here, it was posted by Chrissie C. a.k.a Akamiya of Feathermoon:
The most emotional moment I have ever experienced in WOW was the moment I met him. I was actually thinking about quitting the game after getting to level 41 all by myself with very little social interaction. I was lonely and felt very alienated due to the fact my internet connection was so poor. Then I was invited in a group to help them with quests in Stromgarde, in the Arathi Highlands. Eager and praying an internet DC wouldn't occur I went with them.
It wasn't long before I ran into difficulties. A warrior in the group mocked my hunter for wearing the mageweave clothing set (I was such a noob had no clue I could've worn leather, let alone mail armor since I was lvl 41). The mage mocked my use of a bow and said guns worked better, I simply remarked that I liked the bow better with my night elf. For some reason an elf with a gun did't seem to strike a chord with me. The only member of the group that didn't say a word was a dwarf paladin, named Mcallen, who instead of saying stuff in group chat, quietly whispered 'your very new to this aren't u?'.
It wasn't long before we were striking up a conversation and all the ogres started charging the lower lvl players in the group. The mage didn't know how to aoe damage and the tank just ran around in circles while the ogres continued to beat down on the paladin. I sent my wolf in to help him wittle down the ogres health until finally they were gone. Frustrated we didn't complete the guests, the group disbanded, leaving me alone and very lost inside Stromgarde.
Just when I was about to die the second time trying to retrieve my body from that wretched place a bright glowing sphere enveloped me and I saw the paladin charging into the mob that was fervently attacking my wolf Tsubasa. After a scary few moments, and several bandages later, he led me out of that hell and onto the road. I couldn't thank him enough and apologized for being such a noob and that I was quitting. He asked me to stay and follow him.
We flew all the way back to Darnassus where I trained for the very first time, learned about my talent points, bought my very first tiger mount which I promptly fell in love with, and the paladin upgraded all my armor to mail making me look quite formiddable. He asked me to stay and come back on tomorrow night so we could talk some more and hang out. I was so touched by this act of kindness that what became one night quickly became everyday. Soon we were talking whenever we had time over the Internet on AIM or Skype. After a month or two the friendship quickly blossomed into a long distance romance.
Six months later after meeting Mcallen a.k.a Timothy for the first time, visiting his home in La Verne, California, and staying with me for a month he proposed to me at his parent’s home in Colorado Springs. We are now getting married this year on the island of Kauai, Hawaii on the very day we met in person for the first time. If I had quit that night, I would've missed out on meeting the wonderful human being I am marrying in just a few months. So you could say I am jumping for joy and the happiest I have ever been in my entire life!
This may make me look like a softie, but I don’t care. My wife fell in love with me because I wrote poetry and sang to her. I think this is a wonderful story that should be shared with more people. Now I know I don’t have the following of wow.com, but who’s going to wade through pages and pages of comments to read this story?
I certainly don’t think that people regularly find their soul mates playing computer games, which makes this story even more remarkable. But a lesson that I take out of this is when you find yourself in a group where everyone seems to be picking on one person, giving them grief for whatever reason, you – the individual and one singular person – have great power to influence the life of the oppressed.
It only takes a little whisper “hey, don’t listen to those idiots…I’d like to help you, would you have a few minutes after the run to talk?” Anything will do, any phrase or words of understanding and encouragement may be the one thing that can change a person’s desire to play this game that you and I love so much. And in the case of Chrissie, it may even alter the entire life of that one person you were kind to. Try it, just once, and tell me that it made you feel like a worse person for doing so. I dare you!
Good luck, Chrissie, wherever you are, to you and your fiancé. May the stars shine on you and guide your way.
Some may say this is the exception to the rule, that most WoW players are friendly and understanding, but there are more comments on this article than I’ve seen in a very, very long time. Maybe bad behavior is more prevalent than we think? Anyway, that’s not what I want to talk about. On page 5 of the comments (I usually don’t scan past page 1, but so many of the stories related were extremely compelling) there was a story that made me think “Fairy tales still do exist”. Let me relate it here, it was posted by Chrissie C. a.k.a Akamiya of Feathermoon:
The most emotional moment I have ever experienced in WOW was the moment I met him. I was actually thinking about quitting the game after getting to level 41 all by myself with very little social interaction. I was lonely and felt very alienated due to the fact my internet connection was so poor. Then I was invited in a group to help them with quests in Stromgarde, in the Arathi Highlands. Eager and praying an internet DC wouldn't occur I went with them.
It wasn't long before I ran into difficulties. A warrior in the group mocked my hunter for wearing the mageweave clothing set (I was such a noob had no clue I could've worn leather, let alone mail armor since I was lvl 41). The mage mocked my use of a bow and said guns worked better, I simply remarked that I liked the bow better with my night elf. For some reason an elf with a gun did't seem to strike a chord with me. The only member of the group that didn't say a word was a dwarf paladin, named Mcallen, who instead of saying stuff in group chat, quietly whispered 'your very new to this aren't u?'.
It wasn't long before we were striking up a conversation and all the ogres started charging the lower lvl players in the group. The mage didn't know how to aoe damage and the tank just ran around in circles while the ogres continued to beat down on the paladin. I sent my wolf in to help him wittle down the ogres health until finally they were gone. Frustrated we didn't complete the guests, the group disbanded, leaving me alone and very lost inside Stromgarde.
Just when I was about to die the second time trying to retrieve my body from that wretched place a bright glowing sphere enveloped me and I saw the paladin charging into the mob that was fervently attacking my wolf Tsubasa. After a scary few moments, and several bandages later, he led me out of that hell and onto the road. I couldn't thank him enough and apologized for being such a noob and that I was quitting. He asked me to stay and follow him.
We flew all the way back to Darnassus where I trained for the very first time, learned about my talent points, bought my very first tiger mount which I promptly fell in love with, and the paladin upgraded all my armor to mail making me look quite formiddable. He asked me to stay and come back on tomorrow night so we could talk some more and hang out. I was so touched by this act of kindness that what became one night quickly became everyday. Soon we were talking whenever we had time over the Internet on AIM or Skype. After a month or two the friendship quickly blossomed into a long distance romance.
Six months later after meeting Mcallen a.k.a Timothy for the first time, visiting his home in La Verne, California, and staying with me for a month he proposed to me at his parent’s home in Colorado Springs. We are now getting married this year on the island of Kauai, Hawaii on the very day we met in person for the first time. If I had quit that night, I would've missed out on meeting the wonderful human being I am marrying in just a few months. So you could say I am jumping for joy and the happiest I have ever been in my entire life!
This may make me look like a softie, but I don’t care. My wife fell in love with me because I wrote poetry and sang to her. I think this is a wonderful story that should be shared with more people. Now I know I don’t have the following of wow.com, but who’s going to wade through pages and pages of comments to read this story?
I certainly don’t think that people regularly find their soul mates playing computer games, which makes this story even more remarkable. But a lesson that I take out of this is when you find yourself in a group where everyone seems to be picking on one person, giving them grief for whatever reason, you – the individual and one singular person – have great power to influence the life of the oppressed.
It only takes a little whisper “hey, don’t listen to those idiots…I’d like to help you, would you have a few minutes after the run to talk?” Anything will do, any phrase or words of understanding and encouragement may be the one thing that can change a person’s desire to play this game that you and I love so much. And in the case of Chrissie, it may even alter the entire life of that one person you were kind to. Try it, just once, and tell me that it made you feel like a worse person for doing so. I dare you!
Good luck, Chrissie, wherever you are, to you and your fiancé. May the stars shine on you and guide your way.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Trial of Nmimo the Murloc
The sun broke the tops of the eastern trees sending its rays of light dancing on the surface of the river. A little fish jumped into the air, and for a split second appeared to look from side to side, like a child crossing the street, and then vanished without a hint of a splash beneath the water’s surface. Nmimo the Murloc, son of Yrgl, stretched his neck and gazed out over the river. Inhaling deeply to take in all the sharp, clean scents of the river, Nmimo stepped forward and waded into the river until the water reached his knees.
This will be a perfect day, I can feel it, Nmimo thought to himself. The sun is shining, the fish are jumping, the water meanders at a perfect flow down to the farmlands below. But here, in the most beautiful village in the world, Murtlerglee, there is peace and…
Nmimo’s thoughts of a perfect day were suddenly interrupted by the scream coming from his hut. Turning to see what happened Nmimo suddenly felt his vision go dark. He collapsed. But just before his sudden stun and fall he saw a light and a flash and then nothing.
Nmimo awoke and was suddenly very cold. He looked around to get his bearings and found himself in a stone walled room with only one small window covered with bars. He sensed that it was day outside, but he felt no sun on his skin. It was almost as if there were a storm outside that ceased to allow the suns rays to penetrate its defenses.
A jangling of keys and a twist of a doorknob later Nmimo was face to face with none other than Tirion Fordring, leader of the infamous Argent Crusade.
“What is your name, young Murloc? Speak!” boomed Tirion’s voice.
“M…m…m…Nmimo…s…s…s…sir.” He stammered.
“Well, Nmimo, it seems that we have a problem. Come with me immediately.” Tirion, without waiting for an affirmative response from the young Murloc turned on his heel and strode gracefully and powerfully from the room. Nmimo, unsure of what to do, but sure that it didn’t include staying in that cold…cell any longer than necessary quickly fell in behind the Paladin.
Up some steps, down a wide hall lined with suits of armor, turning left up another flight of stairs and finally into a circular room Nmimo and Tirion entered. All eyes turned on the little Murloc, and I mean all of them. In the room were representatives of every race, class, spec and all other diplomats that could conceivably be found in Azeroth or beyond.
Tirion escorted Nmimo to a chair in the center of the room. “Sit here, young Murloc.”
Nmimo, sitting in the chair as directed became nervous, his eyes started to blink unusually fast and his feet tapped the floor with increased rapidity. Overwhelmed by all of his surroundings he spoke up to all who would listen.
“Uh, would anyone be so kind as to explain what is going on…please!”
As if he were ignoring Nmimo, Tirion Fordring stood and looked around the room, gaining the attention of all present, and spoke.
“Welcome friends, allies, comrades to the Trial of Nmimo the Murloc. Today we shall decide the fate of a Murloc who, despite a plethora of denials, is charged with the slaughter of his entire village of Murlocs. A crime so horrific and dishonorable that we, the Argent Crusade, have deemed it within our jurisdiction to try and sentence the guilty party according to our laws. But before, we shall hear the story directly from the Murloc himself.
Nmimo, please come forth and stand before this council. Place your hands on this pulpit I have here before me and relate your actions to all who have ears to hear. Doing so now will lessen your sentence. Refusing to do so will require immediate punishment…nothing less than death will suffice for your ill deeds.
If Nmimo was scared before, he was terrified beyond imagination now. He, a murderer of his own kind? Never! There must be some mistake, he knew it. How could anyone believe him possible of such atrocity? And what about his memory, all he recalled of that day was a light, a flash, and being stunned and collapsing to the ground. After that he recalled nothing until this morning. Certainly did had no memory of a previous interrogation where he denied the claims. Surely running would be to no avail, not with so many powerful people here to stop him the instant he made the escape attempt. But there had to be a way out of this, there just had to.
I have to start somewhere, so I’ll try this. “Dear Council, honorable and noble, I, Nmimo the Murloc come before you today as an imperfect Murloc. When I was but no bigger than a tadpole I remember taking my brother’s snail collection to a mound of fire ants and pouring them into the mound laughed so loudly that my brother heard me and came running to see what I had done. Upon witnessing such treachery he told our mother who promptly grounded me from any fishing for a week. That was a painful week for my stomach, I can tell you that.
But this…taking of lives of my brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers I have no recollection for I did not do it.”
Tirion started and raised his sword and with fury on his lips cried, “Thrice now have you denied your involvement in the slaughter, and now thrice shall you die. By the hand of this Warlock, Priest, and Warrior you shall suffer three horrific deaths, the final to be your last.”
“Please wait, oh mighty Tirion, for not only do I not recall the day in question, I do not recall previous denials on my part. Plus…” but the crowd already started to grumble and cries of “Death to the Murloc” began being chanted among the council and audience member.
“PLUS,” shouted Nmimo, “AS I WILL ALWAYS DENY MY INVOLVEMENT, I SHALL GIVE YOU ALL THE INFORMATION YOU SEEK TO APPREHEND THE TRUE CRIMINALS, FOR THEY STAND AMONG US TODAY…AS TRAITORS TO THE ARGENT CRUSADE.”
Tirion was startled, his hesitation due to the conviction now present in the Murloc’s voice, conviction that wasn’t present in previous interrogations. Maybe he didn’t do it and my rush to judgment has been hasty. What if he’s right and we have a far worse treachery in our midsts today? Tirion mused to himself. Trusting his instinct Tirion raised his sword again and addressed the crowd.
“We shall hear his story and judge for ourselves if he speaks the truth. Tomorrow, just after your morning jousting training and daily quests, all now here in attendance, and any other you can gather, shall hear the tale and evidence of young Nmimo the Murloc.”
Then turning to Nmimo he added, “And it better be good.”
Come back tomorrow and find out!
This will be a perfect day, I can feel it, Nmimo thought to himself. The sun is shining, the fish are jumping, the water meanders at a perfect flow down to the farmlands below. But here, in the most beautiful village in the world, Murtlerglee, there is peace and…
Nmimo’s thoughts of a perfect day were suddenly interrupted by the scream coming from his hut. Turning to see what happened Nmimo suddenly felt his vision go dark. He collapsed. But just before his sudden stun and fall he saw a light and a flash and then nothing.
Nmimo awoke and was suddenly very cold. He looked around to get his bearings and found himself in a stone walled room with only one small window covered with bars. He sensed that it was day outside, but he felt no sun on his skin. It was almost as if there were a storm outside that ceased to allow the suns rays to penetrate its defenses.
A jangling of keys and a twist of a doorknob later Nmimo was face to face with none other than Tirion Fordring, leader of the infamous Argent Crusade.
“What is your name, young Murloc? Speak!” boomed Tirion’s voice.
“M…m…m…Nmimo…s…s…s…sir.” He stammered.
“Well, Nmimo, it seems that we have a problem. Come with me immediately.” Tirion, without waiting for an affirmative response from the young Murloc turned on his heel and strode gracefully and powerfully from the room. Nmimo, unsure of what to do, but sure that it didn’t include staying in that cold…cell any longer than necessary quickly fell in behind the Paladin.
Up some steps, down a wide hall lined with suits of armor, turning left up another flight of stairs and finally into a circular room Nmimo and Tirion entered. All eyes turned on the little Murloc, and I mean all of them. In the room were representatives of every race, class, spec and all other diplomats that could conceivably be found in Azeroth or beyond.
Tirion escorted Nmimo to a chair in the center of the room. “Sit here, young Murloc.”
Nmimo, sitting in the chair as directed became nervous, his eyes started to blink unusually fast and his feet tapped the floor with increased rapidity. Overwhelmed by all of his surroundings he spoke up to all who would listen.
“Uh, would anyone be so kind as to explain what is going on…please!”
As if he were ignoring Nmimo, Tirion Fordring stood and looked around the room, gaining the attention of all present, and spoke.
“Welcome friends, allies, comrades to the Trial of Nmimo the Murloc. Today we shall decide the fate of a Murloc who, despite a plethora of denials, is charged with the slaughter of his entire village of Murlocs. A crime so horrific and dishonorable that we, the Argent Crusade, have deemed it within our jurisdiction to try and sentence the guilty party according to our laws. But before, we shall hear the story directly from the Murloc himself.
Nmimo, please come forth and stand before this council. Place your hands on this pulpit I have here before me and relate your actions to all who have ears to hear. Doing so now will lessen your sentence. Refusing to do so will require immediate punishment…nothing less than death will suffice for your ill deeds.
If Nmimo was scared before, he was terrified beyond imagination now. He, a murderer of his own kind? Never! There must be some mistake, he knew it. How could anyone believe him possible of such atrocity? And what about his memory, all he recalled of that day was a light, a flash, and being stunned and collapsing to the ground. After that he recalled nothing until this morning. Certainly did had no memory of a previous interrogation where he denied the claims. Surely running would be to no avail, not with so many powerful people here to stop him the instant he made the escape attempt. But there had to be a way out of this, there just had to.
I have to start somewhere, so I’ll try this. “Dear Council, honorable and noble, I, Nmimo the Murloc come before you today as an imperfect Murloc. When I was but no bigger than a tadpole I remember taking my brother’s snail collection to a mound of fire ants and pouring them into the mound laughed so loudly that my brother heard me and came running to see what I had done. Upon witnessing such treachery he told our mother who promptly grounded me from any fishing for a week. That was a painful week for my stomach, I can tell you that.
But this…taking of lives of my brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers I have no recollection for I did not do it.”
Tirion started and raised his sword and with fury on his lips cried, “Thrice now have you denied your involvement in the slaughter, and now thrice shall you die. By the hand of this Warlock, Priest, and Warrior you shall suffer three horrific deaths, the final to be your last.”
“Please wait, oh mighty Tirion, for not only do I not recall the day in question, I do not recall previous denials on my part. Plus…” but the crowd already started to grumble and cries of “Death to the Murloc” began being chanted among the council and audience member.
“PLUS,” shouted Nmimo, “AS I WILL ALWAYS DENY MY INVOLVEMENT, I SHALL GIVE YOU ALL THE INFORMATION YOU SEEK TO APPREHEND THE TRUE CRIMINALS, FOR THEY STAND AMONG US TODAY…AS TRAITORS TO THE ARGENT CRUSADE.”
Tirion was startled, his hesitation due to the conviction now present in the Murloc’s voice, conviction that wasn’t present in previous interrogations. Maybe he didn’t do it and my rush to judgment has been hasty. What if he’s right and we have a far worse treachery in our midsts today? Tirion mused to himself. Trusting his instinct Tirion raised his sword again and addressed the crowd.
“We shall hear his story and judge for ourselves if he speaks the truth. Tomorrow, just after your morning jousting training and daily quests, all now here in attendance, and any other you can gather, shall hear the tale and evidence of young Nmimo the Murloc.”
Then turning to Nmimo he added, “And it better be good.”
Come back tomorrow and find out!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday Frivolity!
It's Friday Frivolity time again, boys and girls! I welcome stories from any and everyone on something funny, something insignificant, something of pure senselessness but at the same time worthy enough for you to share it.
Take time to post it in the comments section. It can be a funny thing from real life, from wow, from another game, or anything you like. I just have 2 rules: Please no foul/offensive language and please do not say anything bad about anyone else's comment/story.
This is all about the frivolities of our lives, of our games, and how the two come together so often. Every friday I will leave the forum open to anything that gives you humor and makes you smile. If you want to contribute a post to the front page just email me at Deuwowlity@gmail.com. I'll review it and post it as long as it meets my criteria above.
________________________________
Last weekend I was running ICC 25m with part guild part pug. I can't remember what exactly was going on but I started yelling at some idiot who kept blabbing at how awesome he was while standing in fires and dying on every fight. At a time of hightened annoyance my wife walked into the room. I know she asked me some kind of question, but with my headphones on I didn't quite catch it. Unfortunately at the same time she finished asking her question I went on a rant about how utterly stupid that idea was and that "your're an idiot" in various forms strayed from their intended target to my wife's ears.
Next thing I know I hear her scream:
"What!?!?!?!"
It dawned on me that she thought my response was to her question, not realizing I was yelling at the moron on my screen.
"Oh baby, I wasn't talking about you."
It was about the only thing I could think of quickly. I then pointed to my screen, took off my headphones and asked, "Now what amazing and wonderful thing did you ask me again? I'm sure whatever it is it's perfect."
Oh, that was embarassing indeed.
Let me hear from you, what stories would you like to share today in Friday Frivolity!?
Take time to post it in the comments section. It can be a funny thing from real life, from wow, from another game, or anything you like. I just have 2 rules: Please no foul/offensive language and please do not say anything bad about anyone else's comment/story.
This is all about the frivolities of our lives, of our games, and how the two come together so often. Every friday I will leave the forum open to anything that gives you humor and makes you smile. If you want to contribute a post to the front page just email me at Deuwowlity@gmail.com. I'll review it and post it as long as it meets my criteria above.
________________________________
Last weekend I was running ICC 25m with part guild part pug. I can't remember what exactly was going on but I started yelling at some idiot who kept blabbing at how awesome he was while standing in fires and dying on every fight. At a time of hightened annoyance my wife walked into the room. I know she asked me some kind of question, but with my headphones on I didn't quite catch it. Unfortunately at the same time she finished asking her question I went on a rant about how utterly stupid that idea was and that "your're an idiot" in various forms strayed from their intended target to my wife's ears.
Next thing I know I hear her scream:
"What!?!?!?!"
It dawned on me that she thought my response was to her question, not realizing I was yelling at the moron on my screen.
"Oh baby, I wasn't talking about you."
It was about the only thing I could think of quickly. I then pointed to my screen, took off my headphones and asked, "Now what amazing and wonderful thing did you ask me again? I'm sure whatever it is it's perfect."
Oh, that was embarassing indeed.
Let me hear from you, what stories would you like to share today in Friday Frivolity!?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Joran and The Dragon
It was an age of superstition, shrouded magic, dark legends. It was an age of valour. In a land until at present forgotton was born Joran, seer and doer of the will of the Dragon. Humble were his beginnings, son of a blacksmith and brother to a harvester Joran applied himself in the apprenticeship of both. His father Preol, had Joran manage the fires in his shop in the mornings. In the afternoon Toran, 10 years the elder or Joran, taught him the delicacy with which the seeds must be sown to yield the optimal crop in the perfect season.
Joyful in his labors Joran became strong in both body and mind. His dutiful mother, Sieleya, would impart intelligence to him; reading, writing, history and philosophy. In such a situation one could not help but grow in satisfaction and admiration of the life gifted. Joran was such a one, ever grateful to those whom he loved, obidient because of said love, ever mindful of becoming the best man they all hoped he would one day achieve.
The Dragon claimed to be neither good nor evil, but the seer and speaker of unfulfilled truth. His power was in to show people the future. But to just witness the future without understanding the consequences was, in the Dragon's mind, insufficient knowledge. So he endeavored to enlighten the minds of those willing to gaze into his eyes. What he showed them was that the future is always conditional, but nobody can escape the consequence of their decisions.
The Dragon, in the age of Joran, had become nothing more than a distant memory to those of the land. But superstition wayliad many plans of courageous adventurers, superstition so strong that even the most outspokenly valiant did not dare enter the caves of the great mountains for fear of meeting the Man-Eater, the Terrible, the great Dragon of the past. Of course nobody in truth believed that such a dragon existed, but superstition held them at bay.
Until one day.
Joran was planting corn on the edges of farm near the northern borders of the forest. The light caught his attention, a light that eminated from deep within the forest. It wasn't a natural light, the sun was in the south this time of year. This light changed color and shape, and as Joran approached it he noticed that all view of his farm had dissapated into the darkness of the trees around him. Now the light seemed to be moving, slowly at first then faster and faster as Joran approached.
Out of breath and reeling of pain in his side, Joran fell to the ground and moaned. Water, he just wanted water to quench his insatiable thirst.
"Then water you shall get, young Joran."
The voice startled the young man, it seemed to be coming from the source of the light, which was now in the opening to a giant cave. Joran was at the base of the Great Mountain, and the cave of the Dragon.
As Joran stared at the light it began to shape shift. First it was a deer, then a bear, then a mammoth, then a snake, then a lizard, and now a giant Dragon. Startled and frightened Joran quickly glanced around him for anything that could be used as a weapon, but found that he had fallen in a grassy field that preceeded the cave.
"A blade of grass, as beautiful as it is will not serve as protection against me, the Man-Eater," snorted the dragon. His laugh was menacing yet hinted at playfulness. The Dragon did not wish for Joran to fear him, for he was, in truth, a peaceful creature who only wished to impart intelligence and wisdom to man. To Joran, in particular.
"Peace, Joran, I shall not eat you. I have brought you hear so that you may see. You must see! Will you not gaze into my eyes to see the truth of your future?"
Joran, stunned and confused by the tone and the change of subject from the dragon started. Slowly he rose and approached the dragon. Curiosity overcame reason and Joran spoke to the Dragon: "Who are you, what is it that you want to show me? I care not for my future for I will make it each day that I live. There is nothing you can tell me, show me or do to me that will change me. So be at it, Dragon, do your worst."
"It is neither bad nor good that I am come to give to you, but a choice. Look and see."
Joran gazed into the eyes of the dragon - and light filled his mind.
The next morning Joran found himself waking in his bed, his real and very much his own bed.
"Just a dream?"
His brother's voice refuted the question, "I doubt it, thick-head. I found you asleep in the field late last night, obviously I've been working you too hard. What happened?"
Jorans retort was cautious and slow, he wasn't sure if he had experienced what he thought he experienced. "Nothing, I must have fallen asleep, that's all."
"Huh! Well, it's time for breakfast, sleepy-head. Mother has food for you at the table, get up and get clean and get moving, kid!"
Morning at the blacksmith was easier than usual. His father tasked him to move all the tools from the storage onto the new wall recently constructed to fit all of the tools the blacksmith had acquired over the years. But the tools seemed light and the task simple. Cheerily Joran worked and soon was finished. It was a wonder to both Joran and his father, Preol, who was pleased to see Joran finish so quickly and so early.
"You may go home early today, Joran. Very well done. I expected the job to take two full days at least, I was preparing excuses to give to Toran as to why I kept you late these two days, but now that you are finished you may spend the next day harvesting the yearly mellons. Give this to your mother as well, will you child?"
Preol handed Joran a small envelope. Maybe this was another love letter or poem and Preol had written to his wife Sieleya. After 28 years of marraige they loved each other more now than they day they first fell in love.
"Yes father, and thank you. I will see you at supper."
As Joran walked from his father's blacksmith shop and started down the road to his home, he felt a strange feeling in his heart. He couldn't describe it, it was if he was reliving something from his past, some evil event that already occured but he could not describe nor remember it clearly. It only came to his recollection moments before he thought of it. What an odd sensation this was to him, but worse it was ominous. Something was about to happen, and Joran suddenly felt that he did wrong.
He turned and ran back towards his father's shop when all of a sudden a giant explosion erupted from the blacksmith's fire, blasting the entire building to tiny pieces of metal, wooden slivers and ash. Horrorstruck Joran screamed in terror as he was witness to the destruction laid before his eyes. His father was dead, he knew this. Not simply because he felt it but his father's severed hand landed directly in Joran's path as the shop exploded. Grasped in the hand was a simple blacksmith's hammer, burning hot from the eruption.
Joran was inconsolable as he brought the news to his brother and mother. Falling on their knees the family wept through the night. Shortly before the sunrise when Joran's brother and mother had fallen asleep, Joran saw a light outside his window. He ran to it, accross the field and through the woods to the opening of the cave.
"You knew this! You knew it would happen and did nothing! Dragon, come forth and answer for your sin!"
The Dragon came forth with no look of triumph in his eyes, only sorrow. "I can do nothing, that is not in my will or power to do. It's my destiny to show you yours, nothing more and nothing less. But if you don't remember, look again at what I showed you."
Joran was crying but felt the truth of the Dragon's words. He gazed into his eyes and witnessed two scenes. The first was what occured the previous day. Stung by the horror of having to witness his father's death twice he attempted to wrench away from the Dragon's gaze, but once you gaze you may not be released until the vision is complete.
The second scene began in his father's shop, but Joran was not done with his job. He was struggling under the weight of his own complaining, which made the assigned task difficult in the extreme. He saw his father speak to him and say he had a message to deliver to Sieleya and would be back before mid-day meal. As his father approached his door 3 villans hiding in the trees ambushed him and threw him indoors. Already inside were Sieleya and Toran, bound with rope. Preol was bound as well as the thieves rummaged through their valuables. Upon leaving one said, "We cannot leave witnesses, they have seen us and now they must die."
He witnessed the cries of his family as their heads were torn from their torso and the house burned down. Horror, evil, it was the heart of the Dragon as Joran believed it. Released from teh Dragon's spell he stared in disbelief.
Calmly the dragon said: "The villans, upon seeing the explosion moved on to a different village. They will not return, ever. Your choice, young Joran, was to decide whether your entire family died or just your father. Although you seemed to forget much of what I showed you, in your heart you knew that your best choice was to live without complaint. That led you to work harder, smarter, and faster than you ever have before. As a result only your father died, and you shall have the comfort of the rest of your family until the end of your days. Not everyone is so selfless, indeed had you chosen to whine and complain and proceed in selfish ways the consequence was the destruction of your whole life, of all your relations. I commend you, therefore Joran, for a choice well made."
Joran wandered the forests for weeks, unable to believe that he had a choice in the matter at all. That no matter what he did he could not save his family from pain. 'Is this any less pain', he thought, 'to lose just one rather than the whole? Death is pain, life is pain. Why was I given the reigns of fate to whip and direct at will'?
Joran lived the remainder of his days in agony, but only within. Outward appearances were of a man who lived well, married better, and had many children of his own. He was good and kind and thougtful and ever cheerful. Inside, however, he wished selfisheness because he wished death upon himself. Why could he not bring that upon his own fate? Why did he seem destined to do the will of the Dragon and never his own?
It's a question that haunts him even today, in peaceful slumber.
Joyful in his labors Joran became strong in both body and mind. His dutiful mother, Sieleya, would impart intelligence to him; reading, writing, history and philosophy. In such a situation one could not help but grow in satisfaction and admiration of the life gifted. Joran was such a one, ever grateful to those whom he loved, obidient because of said love, ever mindful of becoming the best man they all hoped he would one day achieve.
The Dragon claimed to be neither good nor evil, but the seer and speaker of unfulfilled truth. His power was in to show people the future. But to just witness the future without understanding the consequences was, in the Dragon's mind, insufficient knowledge. So he endeavored to enlighten the minds of those willing to gaze into his eyes. What he showed them was that the future is always conditional, but nobody can escape the consequence of their decisions.
The Dragon, in the age of Joran, had become nothing more than a distant memory to those of the land. But superstition wayliad many plans of courageous adventurers, superstition so strong that even the most outspokenly valiant did not dare enter the caves of the great mountains for fear of meeting the Man-Eater, the Terrible, the great Dragon of the past. Of course nobody in truth believed that such a dragon existed, but superstition held them at bay.
Until one day.
Joran was planting corn on the edges of farm near the northern borders of the forest. The light caught his attention, a light that eminated from deep within the forest. It wasn't a natural light, the sun was in the south this time of year. This light changed color and shape, and as Joran approached it he noticed that all view of his farm had dissapated into the darkness of the trees around him. Now the light seemed to be moving, slowly at first then faster and faster as Joran approached.
Out of breath and reeling of pain in his side, Joran fell to the ground and moaned. Water, he just wanted water to quench his insatiable thirst.
"Then water you shall get, young Joran."
The voice startled the young man, it seemed to be coming from the source of the light, which was now in the opening to a giant cave. Joran was at the base of the Great Mountain, and the cave of the Dragon.
As Joran stared at the light it began to shape shift. First it was a deer, then a bear, then a mammoth, then a snake, then a lizard, and now a giant Dragon. Startled and frightened Joran quickly glanced around him for anything that could be used as a weapon, but found that he had fallen in a grassy field that preceeded the cave.
"A blade of grass, as beautiful as it is will not serve as protection against me, the Man-Eater," snorted the dragon. His laugh was menacing yet hinted at playfulness. The Dragon did not wish for Joran to fear him, for he was, in truth, a peaceful creature who only wished to impart intelligence and wisdom to man. To Joran, in particular.
"Peace, Joran, I shall not eat you. I have brought you hear so that you may see. You must see! Will you not gaze into my eyes to see the truth of your future?"
Joran, stunned and confused by the tone and the change of subject from the dragon started. Slowly he rose and approached the dragon. Curiosity overcame reason and Joran spoke to the Dragon: "Who are you, what is it that you want to show me? I care not for my future for I will make it each day that I live. There is nothing you can tell me, show me or do to me that will change me. So be at it, Dragon, do your worst."
"It is neither bad nor good that I am come to give to you, but a choice. Look and see."
Joran gazed into the eyes of the dragon - and light filled his mind.
The next morning Joran found himself waking in his bed, his real and very much his own bed.
"Just a dream?"
His brother's voice refuted the question, "I doubt it, thick-head. I found you asleep in the field late last night, obviously I've been working you too hard. What happened?"
Jorans retort was cautious and slow, he wasn't sure if he had experienced what he thought he experienced. "Nothing, I must have fallen asleep, that's all."
"Huh! Well, it's time for breakfast, sleepy-head. Mother has food for you at the table, get up and get clean and get moving, kid!"
Morning at the blacksmith was easier than usual. His father tasked him to move all the tools from the storage onto the new wall recently constructed to fit all of the tools the blacksmith had acquired over the years. But the tools seemed light and the task simple. Cheerily Joran worked and soon was finished. It was a wonder to both Joran and his father, Preol, who was pleased to see Joran finish so quickly and so early.
"You may go home early today, Joran. Very well done. I expected the job to take two full days at least, I was preparing excuses to give to Toran as to why I kept you late these two days, but now that you are finished you may spend the next day harvesting the yearly mellons. Give this to your mother as well, will you child?"
Preol handed Joran a small envelope. Maybe this was another love letter or poem and Preol had written to his wife Sieleya. After 28 years of marraige they loved each other more now than they day they first fell in love.
"Yes father, and thank you. I will see you at supper."
As Joran walked from his father's blacksmith shop and started down the road to his home, he felt a strange feeling in his heart. He couldn't describe it, it was if he was reliving something from his past, some evil event that already occured but he could not describe nor remember it clearly. It only came to his recollection moments before he thought of it. What an odd sensation this was to him, but worse it was ominous. Something was about to happen, and Joran suddenly felt that he did wrong.
He turned and ran back towards his father's shop when all of a sudden a giant explosion erupted from the blacksmith's fire, blasting the entire building to tiny pieces of metal, wooden slivers and ash. Horrorstruck Joran screamed in terror as he was witness to the destruction laid before his eyes. His father was dead, he knew this. Not simply because he felt it but his father's severed hand landed directly in Joran's path as the shop exploded. Grasped in the hand was a simple blacksmith's hammer, burning hot from the eruption.
Joran was inconsolable as he brought the news to his brother and mother. Falling on their knees the family wept through the night. Shortly before the sunrise when Joran's brother and mother had fallen asleep, Joran saw a light outside his window. He ran to it, accross the field and through the woods to the opening of the cave.
"You knew this! You knew it would happen and did nothing! Dragon, come forth and answer for your sin!"
The Dragon came forth with no look of triumph in his eyes, only sorrow. "I can do nothing, that is not in my will or power to do. It's my destiny to show you yours, nothing more and nothing less. But if you don't remember, look again at what I showed you."
Joran was crying but felt the truth of the Dragon's words. He gazed into his eyes and witnessed two scenes. The first was what occured the previous day. Stung by the horror of having to witness his father's death twice he attempted to wrench away from the Dragon's gaze, but once you gaze you may not be released until the vision is complete.
The second scene began in his father's shop, but Joran was not done with his job. He was struggling under the weight of his own complaining, which made the assigned task difficult in the extreme. He saw his father speak to him and say he had a message to deliver to Sieleya and would be back before mid-day meal. As his father approached his door 3 villans hiding in the trees ambushed him and threw him indoors. Already inside were Sieleya and Toran, bound with rope. Preol was bound as well as the thieves rummaged through their valuables. Upon leaving one said, "We cannot leave witnesses, they have seen us and now they must die."
He witnessed the cries of his family as their heads were torn from their torso and the house burned down. Horror, evil, it was the heart of the Dragon as Joran believed it. Released from teh Dragon's spell he stared in disbelief.
Calmly the dragon said: "The villans, upon seeing the explosion moved on to a different village. They will not return, ever. Your choice, young Joran, was to decide whether your entire family died or just your father. Although you seemed to forget much of what I showed you, in your heart you knew that your best choice was to live without complaint. That led you to work harder, smarter, and faster than you ever have before. As a result only your father died, and you shall have the comfort of the rest of your family until the end of your days. Not everyone is so selfless, indeed had you chosen to whine and complain and proceed in selfish ways the consequence was the destruction of your whole life, of all your relations. I commend you, therefore Joran, for a choice well made."
Joran wandered the forests for weeks, unable to believe that he had a choice in the matter at all. That no matter what he did he could not save his family from pain. 'Is this any less pain', he thought, 'to lose just one rather than the whole? Death is pain, life is pain. Why was I given the reigns of fate to whip and direct at will'?
Joran lived the remainder of his days in agony, but only within. Outward appearances were of a man who lived well, married better, and had many children of his own. He was good and kind and thougtful and ever cheerful. Inside, however, he wished selfisheness because he wished death upon himself. Why could he not bring that upon his own fate? Why did he seem destined to do the will of the Dragon and never his own?
It's a question that haunts him even today, in peaceful slumber.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Playing With Pain
If you don't like it when people mix their personal lives with their wow blogging, then come by for a visit on another day and I'll do my best to make you happy. Today is definately not that day.
I believe so much of ourselves is revealed through the games we play I cannot, in good conscience, ignore the interplay between the two at times.
For those who have not followed me long, know that I suffer from a mix of genetic and injury related back pain. Genetic is bad enough, but when an injury targets what genetics already fails at, the compounding consequence is often very difficult to live with.
I have no idea how I hold down a job, but every night when I get home I load myself with pain killers, get into a comfortable chair, and begin my gaming night. It's a real solace and can often help me get away from a world that not only can't offer solutions to my unique pain, but also deny me the healthcare that could have any hope of providing some measure of relief (seriously, I hate insurance companies).
But there are nights when my pain meds don't work very well and I'm left to my willpower to get me through the raid. Saturday night was one of those night, but my guild never knew it. When I'm in pain it's omnipresent, I can't avoid that. Being a healer in many of the ICC fights I have to be super alert, super aware of the mechanics of the raid as well as my healing duties in keeping those pesky health bars as full as possible.
Dispite the pain we were able to manage to get past a particularly troublesome fight for our casual guild and continued our progression into ICC. Our guild leader wasn't with us, for whatever reason I don't know (he was on, he just didn't want to go). So I took the healing lead. I had to teach our new Pali healer all the fights and coordinate everything from a healing standpoint. This responsibility helped drown out some of the pain, I'm not sure I could have endured if I wasn't forced to speak up and lead so much.
Maybe this is a great thing, I'm sure it is. I play to help me forget my pain, yet there are times when my pain keeps me from playing at the top of my game. Perhaps then this is the secret, to keep my mind so occupied with thinking and leading and directing that my pain can somehow fall into the background.
At the end of it all I could barely stand up from the chair, but as a guild we had progressed. So in the end it was a proverbial "good and bad" thing.
I live with some comfort knowing that another guildie of mine suffers something similar, we can empathize with each other. I can only imagine how he feels yet he too never says a word about it. People play this game and many others with weights on their lives that at times seem insupportable. But guess what? You are not alone. I know that only too well. Just because nobody in your guild is going through what you are, doesn't mean there is nobody.
I'm lucky, very lucky to have met somebody that can truly understand what I suffer through. I know that not everyone will. But I guarantee you that someone in the world does, so take comfort in knowing that somewhere, somebody knows what it's like to play with pain - whatever kind of pain that is.
Stay strong!
I believe so much of ourselves is revealed through the games we play I cannot, in good conscience, ignore the interplay between the two at times.
For those who have not followed me long, know that I suffer from a mix of genetic and injury related back pain. Genetic is bad enough, but when an injury targets what genetics already fails at, the compounding consequence is often very difficult to live with.
I have no idea how I hold down a job, but every night when I get home I load myself with pain killers, get into a comfortable chair, and begin my gaming night. It's a real solace and can often help me get away from a world that not only can't offer solutions to my unique pain, but also deny me the healthcare that could have any hope of providing some measure of relief (seriously, I hate insurance companies).
But there are nights when my pain meds don't work very well and I'm left to my willpower to get me through the raid. Saturday night was one of those night, but my guild never knew it. When I'm in pain it's omnipresent, I can't avoid that. Being a healer in many of the ICC fights I have to be super alert, super aware of the mechanics of the raid as well as my healing duties in keeping those pesky health bars as full as possible.
Dispite the pain we were able to manage to get past a particularly troublesome fight for our casual guild and continued our progression into ICC. Our guild leader wasn't with us, for whatever reason I don't know (he was on, he just didn't want to go). So I took the healing lead. I had to teach our new Pali healer all the fights and coordinate everything from a healing standpoint. This responsibility helped drown out some of the pain, I'm not sure I could have endured if I wasn't forced to speak up and lead so much.
Maybe this is a great thing, I'm sure it is. I play to help me forget my pain, yet there are times when my pain keeps me from playing at the top of my game. Perhaps then this is the secret, to keep my mind so occupied with thinking and leading and directing that my pain can somehow fall into the background.
At the end of it all I could barely stand up from the chair, but as a guild we had progressed. So in the end it was a proverbial "good and bad" thing.
I live with some comfort knowing that another guildie of mine suffers something similar, we can empathize with each other. I can only imagine how he feels yet he too never says a word about it. People play this game and many others with weights on their lives that at times seem insupportable. But guess what? You are not alone. I know that only too well. Just because nobody in your guild is going through what you are, doesn't mean there is nobody.
I'm lucky, very lucky to have met somebody that can truly understand what I suffer through. I know that not everyone will. But I guarantee you that someone in the world does, so take comfort in knowing that somewhere, somebody knows what it's like to play with pain - whatever kind of pain that is.
Stay strong!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Lesson on Leadership
There I stood, atop the highest tower in the land. My feet stood upon sparkling glass that reflected the sun's rays into a thousand different colors, each one new to my mind. I stood in awe at the land around me. Emerald forests with a golden floor. Titans stood along the eastern edge of my sight, forming glistening, snow capped mountains. And other figures there were, busying themselves all around, in small towns filled with bread shops and blacksmiths and leatherworkers. I could see them clearly, their hands moving, crafting with a harmony that drew a tear from my eye.
Rapture.
Who were these people, what was this place, who am I? There were no stairs leading down from the tower. How did I ever get up here? How will I ever get down? Then I hear a voice behind me saying "follow me". I turn and see, for the first time, another person atop the tower. Green eyed, tall, dressed in full fiery armor and sword in hand he points to the center of the tower and a staircase opens before me. Without hesitation I moved myself forward to the steps when all of a sudden they vanished. A chasm opened before me, but it was too late, I had taken the step and now I was falling. Just as I was about to collide with the ground my body felt light, was I floating? Yes, some magic surrounded me and I floated safely to the ground.
I turn and and see the same green eyed man before me.
"You nearly killed me!" I shouted.
"Maybe. But then I saved you, should you not feel grateful?"
Grateful? I did not understand what was happening. I don't know why I trusted him the first time, but after nearly killing me I am supposed to be grateful?
"Yes" he said, as if he was reading my thoughts. "If it wasn't for me you would not even be here."
"Where is here, who are you, what is going on?"
It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the beauty of the land, the craftsmanship of the townspeople, the peace I felt as I stood atop the tower. All of it invaded my senses and overwhelmed me. But I couldn't shake this strange feeling which came as soon the green-eyed soldier appeared. Deep inside of me, somewhere that others cannot see and I only feel occaisionally, I felt loyalty to this green-eyed sodier, but resentment started to build as well.
"Follow me," he said again. So I did.
Each pace on the golden forest floor renewed my hope, gave me strength I did not know exsited within me. I don't know how long we had walked, but the next thing I know we were on the edge of a river. A light shimmered from its depths and a bright, slender figure walked out of the water. At first it was just water, in the form of a woman, but slowly the vision faded and I behled a moral form, tall, thin, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. She gazed into my eyes, I was transfixed.
"Cross the river" the green-eyed man said to me.
I stood in silence, under the spell of the river-woman. Then she spoke, but her mouth did not move. He words came to my mind as clear as a silver bell on a crisp, cold winter night.
"You have rope in your hands, look." She said.
I looked, sure enough there was rope.
"Throw one end of the rope to the other side. It's magical rope, so as soon as it touches a tree it will weave a knot, then all you need to do is do the same on this side of the river. A second rope will come to you and you need to repeat the process, the second rope being tossed 4-5 feet higher than the first. The two combined will create a rope bridge that you can cross. Don't be afraid, I have faith in you."
I turned to the green-eyed soldier, he didn't seem to notice the river-woman.
"Hurry up and cross!" He yelled. "We don't have much time."
"I need to toss the rope, just as I was instructed," I responded.
"What rope?" The green-eyed soldier looked at me as if I was losing my mind.
This is strange, what is going on? I could feel the wills of this man and woman fight against each other, but each oblivious to the other's presence. I was drawn to the woman, not because of her beauty, but rather because of the way she treated me. She taught me, she uplifted me and showed that she had confidence in me.
I quickly made the rope bridge and crossed the river. The green-eyed soldier desolved into mist on the other side of river; the woman stood before me again and spoke.
"I always believed in you. I taught you to believe in yourself, that is why you crossed the river."
"I know."
That was all I could say to her. I wanted to say thank you, ask who she was and why she helped me, but in my heart I knew who she was. My leader. She taught me very simply that leadership is when the leader believes in their subjects so that the subjects can believe in themselves, and they don't stop until each subject can stand on their own.
Her form faded once more into shimmering water, and slowly she merged once more with the river. My path before me was clear. A new power built up inside - hope, courage, belief. Whatever was beyond the emerald forest or the titan mountains, I knew that I could withstand the trial. I also knew that if I needed her, the river-woman would be there to guide me, teach me, and believe in me. She was my leader, I would do what she asked because I knew that she would only ask for that which I was capable.
The green-eyed soldier still visits sometimes, in the darker parts of the forest. He's never cruel, but he never emboldens me with confidence either. That I got from her, and now from myself.
The End
Rapture.
Who were these people, what was this place, who am I? There were no stairs leading down from the tower. How did I ever get up here? How will I ever get down? Then I hear a voice behind me saying "follow me". I turn and see, for the first time, another person atop the tower. Green eyed, tall, dressed in full fiery armor and sword in hand he points to the center of the tower and a staircase opens before me. Without hesitation I moved myself forward to the steps when all of a sudden they vanished. A chasm opened before me, but it was too late, I had taken the step and now I was falling. Just as I was about to collide with the ground my body felt light, was I floating? Yes, some magic surrounded me and I floated safely to the ground.
I turn and and see the same green eyed man before me.
"You nearly killed me!" I shouted.
"Maybe. But then I saved you, should you not feel grateful?"
Grateful? I did not understand what was happening. I don't know why I trusted him the first time, but after nearly killing me I am supposed to be grateful?
"Yes" he said, as if he was reading my thoughts. "If it wasn't for me you would not even be here."
"Where is here, who are you, what is going on?"
It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the beauty of the land, the craftsmanship of the townspeople, the peace I felt as I stood atop the tower. All of it invaded my senses and overwhelmed me. But I couldn't shake this strange feeling which came as soon the green-eyed soldier appeared. Deep inside of me, somewhere that others cannot see and I only feel occaisionally, I felt loyalty to this green-eyed sodier, but resentment started to build as well.
"Follow me," he said again. So I did.
Each pace on the golden forest floor renewed my hope, gave me strength I did not know exsited within me. I don't know how long we had walked, but the next thing I know we were on the edge of a river. A light shimmered from its depths and a bright, slender figure walked out of the water. At first it was just water, in the form of a woman, but slowly the vision faded and I behled a moral form, tall, thin, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. She gazed into my eyes, I was transfixed.
"Cross the river" the green-eyed man said to me.
I stood in silence, under the spell of the river-woman. Then she spoke, but her mouth did not move. He words came to my mind as clear as a silver bell on a crisp, cold winter night.
"You have rope in your hands, look." She said.
I looked, sure enough there was rope.
"Throw one end of the rope to the other side. It's magical rope, so as soon as it touches a tree it will weave a knot, then all you need to do is do the same on this side of the river. A second rope will come to you and you need to repeat the process, the second rope being tossed 4-5 feet higher than the first. The two combined will create a rope bridge that you can cross. Don't be afraid, I have faith in you."
I turned to the green-eyed soldier, he didn't seem to notice the river-woman.
"Hurry up and cross!" He yelled. "We don't have much time."
"I need to toss the rope, just as I was instructed," I responded.
"What rope?" The green-eyed soldier looked at me as if I was losing my mind.
This is strange, what is going on? I could feel the wills of this man and woman fight against each other, but each oblivious to the other's presence. I was drawn to the woman, not because of her beauty, but rather because of the way she treated me. She taught me, she uplifted me and showed that she had confidence in me.
I quickly made the rope bridge and crossed the river. The green-eyed soldier desolved into mist on the other side of river; the woman stood before me again and spoke.
"I always believed in you. I taught you to believe in yourself, that is why you crossed the river."
"I know."
That was all I could say to her. I wanted to say thank you, ask who she was and why she helped me, but in my heart I knew who she was. My leader. She taught me very simply that leadership is when the leader believes in their subjects so that the subjects can believe in themselves, and they don't stop until each subject can stand on their own.
Her form faded once more into shimmering water, and slowly she merged once more with the river. My path before me was clear. A new power built up inside - hope, courage, belief. Whatever was beyond the emerald forest or the titan mountains, I knew that I could withstand the trial. I also knew that if I needed her, the river-woman would be there to guide me, teach me, and believe in me. She was my leader, I would do what she asked because I knew that she would only ask for that which I was capable.
The green-eyed soldier still visits sometimes, in the darker parts of the forest. He's never cruel, but he never emboldens me with confidence either. That I got from her, and now from myself.
The End
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Long Lost Diary of Arthas
I found this in a mysterious place, somewhere in Azeroth. A book, a diary, presumably written by Arthas himself. Here was one of his last entries. It's disturbing, you may wish to look away.
Arthas: "Dear Diary, how are you today? What, not in the mood for chit-chat? You know I can destroy you, right? That's better, I knew you could talk. So how are you today? I know I asked that already, Diary, you're really starting to get on my nerves.
I had a bad dream last night, it was about ponies. These 5 ponies all dressed in pink battle armor came charging into my house while I was in the shower. Wouldn't ya know one of the first places they went to was my closet where I keep my sword. Did they really think I'd leave Frostmourne out in the open for no reason, a king's gotta shower, right?
One of the ponies asked me if he could marry my daugter! Funny, I didn't know I had kids. But I thought I would do the "Dad" thing and pretend that I would kill him, so he and his friends took off down the hall towards the back door. I kept saying creepy things, you know, just to intimidate the bloke...he wanted to get hitched to my daughter! I guess I'll have to figure out who the mother is someday.
Where was I? Oh yes, ponies. I love ponies, I always wanted one as a kid but my dad thought they were too dangerous. 'It'll kick your eye out' he kept saying. That's bull! I've never seen a pony kick out the eye of a kid. Never! I think I never got over that, I became angry. I mean, wouldn't you get angry if you didn't get the pony you always wanted? Well? C'mon, Diary, speak up! That's better, was that so hard?
I wanted a pretty blue and yellow pony with three magical horns and eyes that shown and lit up the forest paths at night. But nooooooooooo. What a bummer.
I had a second dream, it was a scary one. I dreamed that I was unemployed. Horrifying! I know I have the perfect job, I stay at home unless I need to do a hologram/video conference, and even then I use my stunt double. Ha! It's not even me those pesky ponies see.
Sometimes I feel like a burger, so I ask Patchwerk to cook me up something special. He usually comes back with gooey, slimey muck mixed with toenails or something gross. I think Spongebob could teach him the ropes of good fry cooking. Other than that I have a huge home that I didn't even have to pay a commission to a real estate agent for, yippee! People come and talk to me, and even spar with me from time to time. To think if it was all taken away one day, /shudder.
Thank you, Diary, for listening to me again. I know I can get sappy and sentimental sometimes, but that's just because I'm still mad at my daddy for not getting me a pretty pony when I was a boy. It's just a pony!"
The End
Ew, that was weird. Never figured Arthas had "daddy issues".
Arthas: "Dear Diary, how are you today? What, not in the mood for chit-chat? You know I can destroy you, right? That's better, I knew you could talk. So how are you today? I know I asked that already, Diary, you're really starting to get on my nerves.
I had a bad dream last night, it was about ponies. These 5 ponies all dressed in pink battle armor came charging into my house while I was in the shower. Wouldn't ya know one of the first places they went to was my closet where I keep my sword. Did they really think I'd leave Frostmourne out in the open for no reason, a king's gotta shower, right?
One of the ponies asked me if he could marry my daugter! Funny, I didn't know I had kids. But I thought I would do the "Dad" thing and pretend that I would kill him, so he and his friends took off down the hall towards the back door. I kept saying creepy things, you know, just to intimidate the bloke...he wanted to get hitched to my daughter! I guess I'll have to figure out who the mother is someday.
Where was I? Oh yes, ponies. I love ponies, I always wanted one as a kid but my dad thought they were too dangerous. 'It'll kick your eye out' he kept saying. That's bull! I've never seen a pony kick out the eye of a kid. Never! I think I never got over that, I became angry. I mean, wouldn't you get angry if you didn't get the pony you always wanted? Well? C'mon, Diary, speak up! That's better, was that so hard?
I wanted a pretty blue and yellow pony with three magical horns and eyes that shown and lit up the forest paths at night. But nooooooooooo. What a bummer.
I had a second dream, it was a scary one. I dreamed that I was unemployed. Horrifying! I know I have the perfect job, I stay at home unless I need to do a hologram/video conference, and even then I use my stunt double. Ha! It's not even me those pesky ponies see.
Sometimes I feel like a burger, so I ask Patchwerk to cook me up something special. He usually comes back with gooey, slimey muck mixed with toenails or something gross. I think Spongebob could teach him the ropes of good fry cooking. Other than that I have a huge home that I didn't even have to pay a commission to a real estate agent for, yippee! People come and talk to me, and even spar with me from time to time. To think if it was all taken away one day, /shudder.
Thank you, Diary, for listening to me again. I know I can get sappy and sentimental sometimes, but that's just because I'm still mad at my daddy for not getting me a pretty pony when I was a boy. It's just a pony!"
The End
Ew, that was weird. Never figured Arthas had "daddy issues".
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Fantasy or Reality
I was in a foreign country, I did not look or sound like the natives. The clothes that draped me were dark, non-descript, but I stood out in a crowd. I had a type of armor on, or at least that's what I was told.
In the distance I spied a group of miscreants lurking in the shadows. They looked like they were holding weapons, or was it some sort of prohibited beverage? It was hard to tell.
Their eyes in unison looked up to meet mine. Glaring contest, who would win? I had a bag filled with random items: books, metal objects, paper, pens, and other stuff. Could I use any to ward off the impending attack?
The miscreants approached. They did not pounce on me like a lion on its prey, rather a threat issued from a hole in the center of their leader's face.
"I've got a knife, you might want to get out of here unless you would like me to use it against you."
Did I mention my friend was next to me?
My friend couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Show it to me, pal, cause we ain't goin' nowhere."
Great, why can't my friend just shut up?
There was no knife, but there were five of them and two of us. We began to walk away, slowly, backwards. We needed to watch them until we got to safety.
The next thing I know I hear a man yell out "The two tanks have aggro on the mobs...ATTACK!"
Blinding flashes of light illuminated the night sky as fire, ice and mists of shadow enveloped the miscreants. Swords clashed, axes hued, the miscreants fell upon each other in a pile of blood and ash. We were safe. I woke up.
Have you ever had a dream where a real life event was inturrupted by memories of a WoW raid night? I just did. The first part actually happened to me somewhere in South America, the second...well, that happened too, but it wasn't exactly real life.
I went back to sleep, maybe I can dream of snowflakes and sipping hot chocolate.
In the distance I spied a group of miscreants lurking in the shadows. They looked like they were holding weapons, or was it some sort of prohibited beverage? It was hard to tell.
Their eyes in unison looked up to meet mine. Glaring contest, who would win? I had a bag filled with random items: books, metal objects, paper, pens, and other stuff. Could I use any to ward off the impending attack?
The miscreants approached. They did not pounce on me like a lion on its prey, rather a threat issued from a hole in the center of their leader's face.
"I've got a knife, you might want to get out of here unless you would like me to use it against you."
Did I mention my friend was next to me?
My friend couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Show it to me, pal, cause we ain't goin' nowhere."
Great, why can't my friend just shut up?
There was no knife, but there were five of them and two of us. We began to walk away, slowly, backwards. We needed to watch them until we got to safety.
The next thing I know I hear a man yell out "The two tanks have aggro on the mobs...ATTACK!"
Blinding flashes of light illuminated the night sky as fire, ice and mists of shadow enveloped the miscreants. Swords clashed, axes hued, the miscreants fell upon each other in a pile of blood and ash. We were safe. I woke up.
Have you ever had a dream where a real life event was inturrupted by memories of a WoW raid night? I just did. The first part actually happened to me somewhere in South America, the second...well, that happened too, but it wasn't exactly real life.
I went back to sleep, maybe I can dream of snowflakes and sipping hot chocolate.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
I Sawed Dat
Sticking to your guns, do you do it? What I mean is do you play the class/spec that's the flavor of the patch or do you play whatever class/spec combo that you like the best? If you are a Survival Hunter, do you stick to it no matter what your guild leader says? What if you're a Shaman, like me, and want to stay Enhancement even when everyone around you is saying "You should go ranged DPS or switch to Resto. As Resto you can get into any raid, it's awesome".
But what if you don't like healing? Should you allow yourself to be forced to heal for the good of the group? Or should you say to your guild leader "Maybe you should recruit more healers, but I would like to stay DPS".
I haven't done the math, but there are, let's see, 1...2...3...4...oh I give up. There are a lot of different race/class/spec combinations. Enough to go around, that's for sure. Now I hear it often, we need more tanks and healers in the game, DPS is a dime a dozen, can people please roll more tanks and heals?
Why?
So your LFD queue time is instant, just like tanks? Why should you or I give up the class/spec that we enjoy most for the good of the group?
Disclaimer: I'm an American, an individual from a very individualistic society. What's good for the whole isn't our first instinct. That said, I still wonder if we should easily capitulate to outside forces, demanding that our Mage be Arcane in order to top the Recount meters.
Gronthe is my Warlock, but I also have a Shaman at lvl 80. He's Enhance, and will always be. I will heal every now and then, but if I ever have a choice I play my Enhance because that's what I love to play.
If you continue reading I'll tell another story of my childhood, it's pretty good and has a lot to do with what I'm talking about.
This is embarassing, but as a kid I had some "speech impediments", according to experts. Actually, moving from the New England to the Rocky Mountains (for only a few forgetful years) my Maine accent was considered to be a disability. My elementary school forced me into speach therapy to fix my habit of rarely pronouncing my "R's", which most of the time came out sounding like the word "awe".
Heck, even at my high school football games when I moved back to New Hampshire we joked about our team's/city's name, Dover, by chanting:
Gimme a D...O...V...A...H. What's that spell? DOVAH!
One day I was at my friends house in the crisp, clean air of the Rockies, when I looked at a Tonka truck in his driveway, I noticed that there was a hole in the top of the truck that wasn't supposed to be there. Wanting to be a good friend, I tried to point this out by saying that I saw a hole in his truck, and maybe I could help him repair it. But it didn't come out right.
"I sawed a hole in yuh twuck".
He, being quick witted and a bit sarcastic, understood what I was saying but decided it be more fun to play with me.
"What, you sawed a hole into my truck? Why would you do that? Are you going to saw it in half when I'm asleep? Why? Why?"
Then he started to fake a cry. Oh great, he completely misunderstood me, or so I thought. After a couple minutes of teasing me he told me that he understood. We laughed about it and them played the day away.
But back at school I was forced spend the next year in speech therapy learning to forget the "true me" and speak like all the other robots in my shcool. In other words, I learned to pronounce my "R's". Now I can't stop, and to this day I hate my school for thinking there was something wrong with me.
For me this is the same as somebody telling me I need to change my spec because it's not the right fit. Well what if I don't freakin' want to pronounce my "R's" anymore, what if I want to stay Enhancement and not switch to ranged DPS or full time healer. I like who I am, and if you don't well then I'll find somebody who will!!!!!
I wish I could have said that to my speech therapist, but I had a hard time pronouncing his name:
Roger Frankwriter (a.k.a. Wodgah Fwankwightah). He probably thought I was swearing at him all the time.
I know it's not that big of a deal, as many smart guild/raid leaders appreciate and seek for a balance in their raiding teams, but I just had to get this off my chest.
But what if you don't like healing? Should you allow yourself to be forced to heal for the good of the group? Or should you say to your guild leader "Maybe you should recruit more healers, but I would like to stay DPS".
I haven't done the math, but there are, let's see, 1...2...3...4...oh I give up. There are a lot of different race/class/spec combinations. Enough to go around, that's for sure. Now I hear it often, we need more tanks and healers in the game, DPS is a dime a dozen, can people please roll more tanks and heals?
Why?
So your LFD queue time is instant, just like tanks? Why should you or I give up the class/spec that we enjoy most for the good of the group?
Disclaimer: I'm an American, an individual from a very individualistic society. What's good for the whole isn't our first instinct. That said, I still wonder if we should easily capitulate to outside forces, demanding that our Mage be Arcane in order to top the Recount meters.
Gronthe is my Warlock, but I also have a Shaman at lvl 80. He's Enhance, and will always be. I will heal every now and then, but if I ever have a choice I play my Enhance because that's what I love to play.
If you continue reading I'll tell another story of my childhood, it's pretty good and has a lot to do with what I'm talking about.
This is embarassing, but as a kid I had some "speech impediments", according to experts. Actually, moving from the New England to the Rocky Mountains (for only a few forgetful years) my Maine accent was considered to be a disability. My elementary school forced me into speach therapy to fix my habit of rarely pronouncing my "R's", which most of the time came out sounding like the word "awe".
Heck, even at my high school football games when I moved back to New Hampshire we joked about our team's/city's name, Dover, by chanting:
Gimme a D...O...V...A...H. What's that spell? DOVAH!
One day I was at my friends house in the crisp, clean air of the Rockies, when I looked at a Tonka truck in his driveway, I noticed that there was a hole in the top of the truck that wasn't supposed to be there. Wanting to be a good friend, I tried to point this out by saying that I saw a hole in his truck, and maybe I could help him repair it. But it didn't come out right.
"I sawed a hole in yuh twuck".
He, being quick witted and a bit sarcastic, understood what I was saying but decided it be more fun to play with me.
"What, you sawed a hole into my truck? Why would you do that? Are you going to saw it in half when I'm asleep? Why? Why?"
Then he started to fake a cry. Oh great, he completely misunderstood me, or so I thought. After a couple minutes of teasing me he told me that he understood. We laughed about it and them played the day away.
But back at school I was forced spend the next year in speech therapy learning to forget the "true me" and speak like all the other robots in my shcool. In other words, I learned to pronounce my "R's". Now I can't stop, and to this day I hate my school for thinking there was something wrong with me.
For me this is the same as somebody telling me I need to change my spec because it's not the right fit. Well what if I don't freakin' want to pronounce my "R's" anymore, what if I want to stay Enhancement and not switch to ranged DPS or full time healer. I like who I am, and if you don't well then I'll find somebody who will!!!!!
I wish I could have said that to my speech therapist, but I had a hard time pronouncing his name:
Roger Frankwriter (a.k.a. Wodgah Fwankwightah). He probably thought I was swearing at him all the time.
I know it's not that big of a deal, as many smart guild/raid leaders appreciate and seek for a balance in their raiding teams, but I just had to get this off my chest.
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