ROW 80 DAY 36 – A GLORIOUS WASTE OF TIME

I used to “write” a “blog” for all of about 15 minutes regarding the wonders and glories of playing MMORPGs, specifically Runescape. The blog is as terrible as it sounds and it consisted of a big batch of lazy; tons of cut and paste pictures from in-game and fan forums and a bit of self-conscious typing. This was just last April. Gah. The fact that I abandoned that forum so quickly illustrates the limited form I had myself strait-jacketed into. I will usually beat a horse until dead and 6 feet under. Writing for a target audience of gamers is not a good fit for me, although I do enjoy the players immensely and their wry humor.

Having said that, I thought I’d have a bit of fun. I belong to what is loosely known as a “clan,” but as of now, we are more correctly known as “a bunch of people who hang out and bullshit and pick on the newbs.” When we were a Clan, with a capital “C” we were pretty unstoppable. We rampaged up and down Clan row and fought other Clans. The fact that we were the only Clan that had two women leaders was an anomaly in and of itself. It pissed off all the 13 year old boys.

Those days are gone and now, we just sort of gather in our Clan Chat. It is rather like a staid knitting bee. “What are you doing, Killa?” “Oh, doing Barrows. I have Dhurok and the tunnels left. And you?” “Still trying to finish Regicide… This whore of a quest goes on forever.”

But then, the stories begin. This is where the fun starts. Descriptions of quests gone horribly wrong, of dying in spectacular ways. Discussions of what we all really thought when we first started playing Runescape. I remember one of the first things you are sent out to do is kill Goblins. Of course you get… Goblin Armor. There isn’t a person who has played that game who hasn’t tried to wear the Goblin Armor. You can’t wear the Goblin Armor. I think you get to in the epic quest, “Goblin Diplomacy,” but it’s been many a moon since I did that one, so I can’t remember.

One of the other things that just cracks me up about gaming is this bravado that attaches itself to people. Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, people who game and slay dragons think that should the opportunity present itself in real life, that the pixilated talent will somehow magically transfer to the real world. I’m not sure this is the case. Were it so, I sure would like to have either my Saradomin sword or my Abyssal Whip in real life and the muscles to go with it. I always loved the X-Files episode, “Jose Chung From Outer Space.” Jose Chung is questioning Blaine regarding the death threats he has received: “Aren't you nervous telling me all this? Receiving all those death threats?” Blaine replies, “Well, hey, I didn't spend all those years playing Dungeons and Dragons and not learn a little something about courage.” Indeed.

The notion that there is some transference is valid, of course. While we may not be slaying dragons, there are skills of a mundane kind. To be avoided at all costs in my opinion. My favorite thing to do is to beat stuff up and take it’s things. Call me a thug, but oh well. It’s beyond boring to chop wood, fish, cook, farm (oh god!) mine, smith, craft, thieve, agility, it just all sucks. I’m sorry. I know you have to train one to get to the other to get the goodies and to get the cool quests and… ugh. Barf. I do it when I really, really want to do a quest. The fact that I still have NOT finished the important quests like “Regicide,” “Desert Treasure,” and about eleventy-billion others speaks to my not giving a shit if I ever hit the top-10 players in RS or not. The fact no one barely remembers Zezima anymore, underscores my point.

So, I kill stuff. I also have a really bad armor and weapon-crack habit. I need an intervention. I have a house, with a hunk of eye candy Royal Guard servant that I can barely keep in tea and scones. I have pets that are probably starving, except they’re too busy running all over the house. A Hell Cat, a Purple Cat and a Penguin. It’s a bit startling to come in and find the Penguin on the dining room table, but there it is. Still, I’ve managed to accumulate mad, beautiful armor and swords, and whips and shields and pretty shiny things that hurt monsters. It’s all so lovely! I love to stab and maim and plunder. Just don’t ask me to bake a cake.

SUPPOSED TO BE GOD-WARS; LOOKS LIKE MAD, DRUNK NEIGHBOR WITH POT-BELLY THROWING LAWN CHAIR. CAN YOU SAY "EPIC?"