Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Juljin awoke, stirring from an uneasy sleep, his eyes drifted from opening to closing and he squinted the remaining tiredness from them. It was daylight, and sun was pouring in from in-between the trees. Jakkru was squatted against a tree, carving a peice of wood with a knife. The troll let out a sharp sigh, half in surprise and the other in relief – the rogue hadn’t killed them in their sleep. It would see the shaman had a small amount of control over him. Juljin sat up and stretched his long arms. Dehyo was curled up a few meters away, as was Nalria, using her shield as a makeshift pillow. He could hear the sound of the groups mounts, tethered to a tree. Kranan was fast asleep, the shaman needed his rest, and he’d taken a harsh beating. Getting to his feet, he stretched again; Jakkru didn’t even look up from his carving. Juljin walked over to his War Raptor, jet black with white markings on it’s haunches and face. It made a clicking noise as he approached and screeched quietly. He petted its nose and opened the saddlebag, taking out some bread. Tearing a chunk off and tossing it in the air, the raptor caught it with a snapping motion of its jaws. His raptor tilted it’s head after tasting bread instead of meat, “It all I got,” he replied, stroking it’s nose again. His companion’s mounts looked at him hungrily, he fed Nalria’s wolf and walked off, back to the camp.
Jakkru saw the hunter get up and walk to his mount, even letting a little grin out when he noticed he didn’t feed his Dreadsteed or Kranan’s Kodo. He finished carving the figure of the woman and placed it in his pack. He heard Kranan groan as he awoke, lifting himself up and winching in pain, “Are you sure you’re not a female?” Jakkru said, the shaman didn’t respond with words but aimed a rude gesture at the rogue. He stood up and walked to the shaman, pulling a vial of purple liquid from his pack. “C’mere...” he said, grabbing the Taurens chin, his hand dwarfed by it.
Nalria only awoke because of Juljin kicking her shoulder lightly with his foot. “Ge’ up” he said, and passed some bread to her. She looked around, half expecting to see the other two gone but saw the Rogue tending to the Shamans wounds, almost in a friendly way. “How far is the town?” she asked sleepily, whilst rubbing her eyes. “A few hours.” Juljin answered.
The four arrived at the town in the early afternoon, collecting their bounty from the head of the town, who quickly left the room. Nalria split the money into 4 and handed Kranan and Jakkru their share, the rogue opening the pouch and emptying the contents onto a table and counted. Kranan, a little more trusting placed the money in his pack. Juljin nodded at him, and Nalria said goodbye and they headed for the door, Jakkru still counting and not even responding. Juljin and Nalria walked to the door leading out of the room when it opened. A large, muscular Orc stood there, with the head of the town behind him. “These four?” he growled, motioning towards them. The Town’s Head nodded. He pulled a rolled scroll from his belt and handed it to Juljin, it bore the seal of Orgrimmar. The Orc turned had gone, leaving the head of the town in the doorway, smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I was under orders to tell him when someone had killed the bandits.” He scurried off, leaving the four of them in the room.
Juljin opened the scroll, and read it quickly. “We’re too report to Sergeant Zortha in Orgrimmar.” He said, looking at Nalria, then at Kranan. “Too hell we are.” Jakkru hissed, “I did this for the money, not for someone to pat me on the back.” “It say he has mo’ work fo’ us...” Juljin said, in quiet agreement with the rogue, “We ge’ 30 gold each for just goin’ dere...” That was all the persuasion Jakkru needed, “I’ll go.” He said. “30 gold is 30 gold, if I don’t like it, I can leave.” The others seemed to be thinking exactly what he just said. “Apparently,” Nalria said, after attempting to read over the tall Trolls shoulder, “We’re to report to someone called Grok, outside.”
After asking a townsfolk, they were pointed in the direction of the Wind Rider Stables. Kranan hadn’t spoken since finding this out, they rounded a corner and saw the stables the Wyrven were kept in. Outside it stood a fat, ageing Orc. His hair whitening and chin full of silver stubble, he greeted them with a grin and slapped them on the back, “So you’re the buggers that got rid of ‘em bastardin’ bandits then!” he bellowed, “Been waiting a while for ‘em to get whats comin’ to ‘em. Bastards.” He explained that their passage had been paid by the Orc that had thrust the scroll at Juljin and that he needed 5 minutes to get the Wyrven ready. Kranan’s stomach felt sick, he hated flying. Jakkru, on the other hand, had a huge grin on his face, “Glad I agreed to come along now.”
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
I've come to find, that leading a pug is a skill, whereas being in one really isn't. As you can see from the vast majority of peoples blogs, that any Tom, Dick and Harry can end up in them.
Take Tom for example, Tom is (usually, but not always) a member of a guild on your server that you know has downed the Lich King. He doesn't have the Kingslayer title, so you can tell he either isn't in the progress team or is an alt of someone that just mightwell be. He's a good, safe bet for a prospective pug leader, knows what he's doing and can bring a decent dps/healer/tank to your group, he's also a nice, mature and considerate bloke. He knows he's pugging, he knows that the group might not very well be world beaters, he knows it's hit and miss.
Then you've got Dick. There's a fine line between Tom and Dick, Dick may be from the same guild that Tom's are from, he'll also be a good player, but he'll something else - a dick. Dick is the guy that thinks that a pug should be able to down the Lich King in about 20 minutes, and if you're not then it's someone in the groups fault. He'll be picking apart peoples dps - "omfg, your dps is so low." Critisicing healers - "omfg, why no heals?" and blaming the tanks for anything he wants - "omfg, why lose aggro?!" Toms can turn into Dicks, but not the other way round. It's kinda like toast.
Hanging at the back of Tom and Dick is Harry. He means well, can often be a cheerful little soul, will be the one going "guys, we can do this!" but there's one thing about Harry - he's not ready for the place. He might have passed the gear check, he might have the achievement but he'll be the one doing the least damage. Harry means well, but in the end, he's just no Tom. However, Harry can be like Dick, but instead, blaming people to hide the fact that Harry shouldn't really be there.
I've been pugging a lot recently and at the moment, I've mainly be surrounded by Toms. Pure Toms, not the DickToms that can often be mistaken for Tom's until the shit really hits the fan, then Dick comes out to play, it's like Jekyll and Hyde but in finger pointing and recount linking terms.
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Ripping the parchment from the noticeboard, the Orc saw nothing but “100 gold reward.” Her armour was in desperate need of repair or better still, replacement. The rusting plate gauntlets, protecting her once soft delicate hands were covered in dents, the lavish colour was scraped away, left on the blades that had struck at them. Her shoulder guards, once glorious, where now dull and her helmet, which hung from the lapel on her Riding Wolf, could easily be used as a household bucket. Her shield, dented, notched and riddled with Crossbow holes was more of a weapon than protection and her sword could have been easily replaced with a sharp stick and some extremely harsh language. She walked to her wolf, scratching it’s large ears as she stowed the parchment in the saddlebag, which contained dozens of unopened letters, all addressed to her – Nalria. She grunted as she pulled herself onto her Wolf. She couldn’t do this on her own, and she knew just the person who would help.
Juljin was knelt over his fire, his loyal cat sat next to him, licking its lips, drooling in anticipation. The Troll grinned at the wolf, as he turned the flank of Boar meat over, “Soon, Dehyo, soon.” He said, petting its matted head. He started to sharpen his knife, while scanning the Horizon. He was a bit too close to an Alliance camp for his liking and wouldn’t let himself get too comfortable, unlike Dehyo, who’d curled up next to the fire. He checked his meal, as his stomach groaned in anticipation, Dehyo wasn’t the only one looking forward to his first meal in what felt like weeks but had only been days. He turned the meat over again and grinning, plunged his knife into it and greedily started to eat. He was nearly finished when Dehyo shot up straight, “You’ll be gettin’ yours soon enough” he said, tossing the left overs at the cat. Dehyo didn’t move, put sat completely still, looking into the distance, the meat flew past it and landed on the ground. He moved, faster than one could think for a troll of his age, he grabbed his bow and two arrows, stringing one and holding the other in his teeth. He looked at the horizon, a rider approached. He recognised the lumbering run of a riding Wolf and relaxed, only a bit. Even races of the Horde could still be enemies but after looking at the rider, he un-drew his bow and placed it over his back, grinning.
“I’ll ‘elp ya,” the troll said, grabbing his pack and bow. Nalria looked at him surprised; it’d taken less persuasion that she’d thought. “Don’ ya look at me like that,” he said, “I can’t let ya go on ya own, som’ one gotta look afta ya” he said, smiling. He’d knew she’d come to ask for help, she didn’t ask it of anyone else. He’d known her all her life and knew if her father was still alive, he would have killed him on the spot for refusing to help her and for turning down the chance to kill some humans. “Tha be a village som’ mile dat way,” he pointed in the direction. “I left ma rapta there, it’s on da way.” He climbed onto the back of Nalria’s wolf and whistled, Dehyo ran off ahead of them. Nalria turned her head to look at the troll, “Thank you, Juljin.”
Kranan’s face stung, his left eye was closing up with swelling. Never trust a rogue, he thought, even one you'd known for many years. A fist ploughed into his face again. “What are you doing here?!” the voice shouted. He’d been poisoned, his strength had left him and he could barely get himself to his feet. A hand grasped his horn and tilted his neck. Looking directly at him was a bearded human, “Your race disgusts me.” He said, before ramming the Taurens’ head into the wall. White lights flashed, never trust a rogue, he thought, as the man kicked him in the ribs. He looked round, only his right eye was of any use to him now, four men were in the room, two of the three guards that had spotted him and the rogue, a large stupid looking human and the bearded man. Never trust a rogue, he thought again as the humans laughed at him. He saw his mace lying on the table, in the corner of the room, as well as the rogues daggers. The coward had run, vanished into the shadows leaving him to be beaten and more than likely killed. The poison they’d used had made him drowsy, they obviously didn’t like it when he ripped the arm off one the guards that had spotted him, he stayed silent as the men taunted him. Never trust a rogue, he thought, as the man with the bearded face opened the door, turning to the guards, “kill him” he said.
The door opened, Jakkru clung to the shadows as a man turned round, “kill him” he heard. The rogue cursed the shaman, fat bastard, he thought, getting spotted. He moved quickly, from the shadows, the man still wasn’t looking at him. With a deafening crack he broke his neck before barging into the man closest to the door, his armour clattered against the stone wall as he lost his footing and fell to the ground, the man next to him turned sharply. The rogue slapped at the man’s left ear with his palm open, connecting, he sent a fist at his throat. He heard the man choke; the man he’d barged was getting to his feet, as the man currently gasping for air fell to his knees. The two men advancing on the tauren, who was lay there turned to see the rogue launching his elbow into the plated man’s face, two, three, four times, the man dropped to the ground with a groan, blood flowing from his face. The rogue moved swiftly to the table his daggers were on, as the two men advanced. He snatched his daggers from the table and turned, while reaching into his pack, he drew a small knife which he flicked at the gap between the man on the lefts helmet and his plate chestpeice, it connected and ripped into his neck, spurting blood onto the man next to him, who turned to see what had covered him to see his friend clutching at his neck, trying in vain to stem the blood flow. He turned back to the rogue in rage but he was no longer there, he felt the light arm of the rogue under his arm, as his rotting fingers grasped his helmet. Jakkru plunged his dagger into the man’s neck, swiftly pulling it out and jabbing it back into the man, sending blood everywhere. He finally stopped and ripped the dagger and turned to the shaman, grinning.
Juljin and Nalria arrived at the camp later that night, a few tents around a house next to the woods, the house had obviously been raided earlier that day. The men had been drinking and a few were sitting round a fire, eating whatever they’d found in the house. They’d found a casualty in the woods, one of the men was dead, missing an arm. “We’ll attack later,” Nalria said, to which Juljin nodded in agreement, “When they’ve gone to sleep the booze off.”
Jakkru poured a vial of anti-poison down Kranan’s throat. “You could have helped.” He said sarcastically. The shaman felt his strength return immediately and got to his feet. “Right, now I thi-‘’ the rogue was interrupted by the Tauren’s hand wrapped around his throat.
“I...came...bac-‘’ the rogue gasped, his ribcage visible between gaps in his hardened leather jerkin. “For you damned Daggers!” The shaman hissed, tightening his grip before letting go, the rogue fell to the ground gasping for air. Kranan picked his mace up and muttered something about spirits, the swelling around his eye faded and he breathed more freely.
The camp had gone silent, one of the drunks must have fallen over because Juljin heard a clattering in the basement as they skirted past it in the darkness. He had an arrow fixed in his bow and Dehyo was prowling 10 meters infront. Nalria had her bow out, Juljin had taught her how to fire a bow many moons ago although she was no were as good as the troll. They treaded carefully and could hear snores coming from the nearest tents. The man they had been sent to kill was a leader of a group of bandits that had been plaguing the area, he’d be sleeping in the house. Nalria loosened the string of her bow, placing it down on the ground quietly. She drew her blade and carefully moved the shield that was strapped to her back onto her arm. Juljin peered around the corner of the house, the front door had been ripped off in the raid. He sent his cat in first and motioned for Nalria to move in as he peered in the darkness, nothing but the smoldering embers of the fire moved so he followed her inside.
Kranan went first, his mace in one hand, his back against the stone wall. He was far too large for creeping he thought, Jakkru seemed to share the sentiment and passed him silently, moving up the stairs into the kitchen, two guards stood talking, “I’m sick of this, nothing was in here, they’d packed up and gone. Useless. Anything good, Johnny kept, bastard.” One of them said. Kranan who hadn’t noticed Jakkru stop, bumped into the rogue, sending him toppling from his crouched position into the kitchen. The two guards, surprised to see an Undead roll out into the kitchen floor stared at him for a second, the one on the left reacted first “INTRUDER!” he bellowed.
“Move, mon!” Juljin yelled, as Nalria raised her shield and headed for were the shout had come from. She heard a crack of thunder and a man flew into the wall before she entered the door, his hair standing on end and singed. She looked to her right and saw a large shaman looking at them, she heard a scream as a rogue plunged his knife into the thin armour of another bandit on the kitchen floor. “Who are you?!” the shaman yelled, “Who are you?!” Nalria replied, gripping her sword. The shamans face had some bruising on it and the rogue was an Undead, her skin crawled looking at him, his eyes darted from her to Juljin, who’d entered the room and had an arrow trained on Kranan.
The introductions were cut short by footsteps on the stairs, Juljin spun round and let his arrow fly the short distance into the man who’d just stepped into the corridor. It landed true, square in his chest and he feel backwards sharply. Nalria rushed to the other door, as another bandit appeared, driving her shield into his body with a grunt she parried an attack from a second bandit who was in the hallway leading to the kitchen, she recovered quickly and jabbed her sword into his belly. The rogue had appeared behind her and was driving his dagger into the mans neck, the man screamed and the rogue withdrew his dagger, covering Nalria and himself in blood. “Move!” Kranan yelled, asking the Spirits for protection and aiming them in the warriors direction. Jakkru was killing the man Nalria had knocked over and Nalria was running down the hallway to the stairs, an attack came from behind her, but didn’t fully connect, it bounced off her armour, which had been infused with stone briefly. Kranan appeared behind the attacker and rammed the shaft of his mace into the back of his head, then rammed the spiked tip into his back as he fell to the ground. The corridor was too small for him to swing his weapon. They moved back into the first room Nalria and Juljin had just moved through to see Dehyo ripping into a bandit’s neck, who was screaming loudly, in his leg was an arrow and two dead bandits lay before him, arrows in their chests. Juljin came from the corridor the bodies were lay in and Jakkru appeared behind Kranan and Nalria. “It would seem we are after the same man.” Kranan said.
The noise from inside the house had woken the men in the tents outside and they were running towards the door, the first one their fell backwards sharply having been struck by an arrow, as he fell a cat jumped at the next man, claws slashing through his shirt and into his chest. He screamed and the others backed away in fear. Another arrow came from inside the house, striking a man in the neck, he too screamed and fell to the ground. Two men turned and ran, they were without armour and weapons, the others followed suit, another arrow flew out and caught a man in the back of the thigh. Dehyo pounced on him and went for his throat. Juljin called his pet back, “Get up dem stairs!” he told Nalria, Kranan and Jakkru followed.
Nalria burst through a door, she raised her shield and a sword glanced off it, Jakkru had slipped past her and was digging his dagger into their bounty’s stomach, Nalria hacked at the mans shoulder and he screamed loudly. Kranan, still unable to swing his giant mace jabbed him in the face. Jakkru plunged his dagger into the mans throat and turned to Nalria as he pulled the blade out, the man gasping for air and choking on his own blood. “Dont even think about it” she said, raising her shield, Jakkru just grinned at her. She moved into the room and Juljin appeared at the door, “dey be gone, cow’ads ran for it” he said. The four of them stood in silence, staring back and forth. Kranan finally spoke, “We can share the reward. 25 gold is better than death.” Jakkru shot him a dirty look. “Agreed,” said Nalria. “Aye, mon.” Juljin said. The rogue sighed, “Fine.”
Saturday, 27 March 2010
You wouldn't think an Undeads heart could pound but as Jakkru approached the gates of Stormwind he felt as though his would come tearing through his rotting, exposed ribcage. He was tired, having moved in the shadows for the past 2 miles to avoid the risk of a local, or worse, a drunken city guard returning to his post after a night in the Goldshire tavern but he didn't let that affect his judgement, it was 2 in the morning, or around that, the moon was dim tonight, which made for perfect conditions.
His first challenge, was getting past the night guard. Their night vision impared by the torches they held made it a little easier but these guys were paranoid and Jakkru knew it, he'd dealt with them in the past, back before his death.
Hugging the keeps wall as he made his way into the city, he took a small round stone from his pocket, skillfully tossing it behind the guard on the left with the flick of his wrist. The paranoid guard turned sharply and Jakkru skirted past him. He continued over the bridge, dangerously close to the edge, the guards must have been rotating as he couldn't see any on the bridge, or at the posts near it. He breathed a sigh of relief, he hated the Stormwind Guards, having run into them twice back when he was "living." Almost losing his life the second time.
Jakkru's relief left him as quickly as it had come, he rounded a corner to be met by two senior guards, "Intruder!" they bellowed. Jakkru moved from the shadows and dodged the incoming sword, aimed skillfully at his neck. The next attack, was unavoidable, after dodging the first the rogues body had been off balance and he felt the cold steel pierce his side, slicing easily through his leather tunic. "Ahhh!" he screamed, before drawing his daggers, using the hilt of his right hand dagger, he drove it hard into fore-most guards throat, he heard a yelp as the air left the mans lungs and he clutched at his throat. The second guard used his shield to ram the rogue, who side stepped out of the way before throwing a powder in the direction of the guards face. The guard fell backwards, the clang of his armour on the cobbles of Stormwind to Jakkru, was the loudest thing ever. He was but 100 meters in the city and already had the guards alerted. He could hear footsteps rapidly moving toward him and disappeared into the shadows of the alley way. The reinforcements arrived and ran to the downed guards aid, Jakkru took his chance and ducked past into the main city itself.
He was in, and had to act fast. The guards would be swarming the city in a second. He didn't rush though. Rushing made you clumsy, and clumsy got you killed. He used the alleyways to his advantage, no one used them at night, even a great city as Stormwind had it's underworld. Hiding in the shadows, he fashioned what could be called a bandage from a strip of cloth he drew from his pack. He plugged his wound, it wasn't as deep as feared but it pained him something awful. He shook it off and continued through the alleyways.
His target would be near the Stockade, where the criminals of Stormwind were kept and Jakkru had once spent a night before disembowling the guard and escaping. The client had arranged a meeting which of course wouldn't happen, it was a trap to lure the target out at night. He crossed another bridge and made his way to the area, were the target would be. He couldn't see anyone, so ducked behind some crates and barrels left outside a shop.
He didn't know the target, not even a name. He didn't need to know names, just a description and a price. The usual thinking was the higher the price, the bigger the risk and the price for this job had been very high. The client had thrown the gold at him as if it were pocket change. Look where greed gets you, Jakkru thought. He had to stop himself from chuckling, greed was the reason he was here. He couldn't resist a price like that.
The target arrived ten minutes later, with a guard. Jakkru hated guards. They made things complicated and he didn't like complicated.
"He's always bloody late." the target yawned, sleepily. "Time is it?"
"Around 3 in the morn." the guard answered, wide awake. He was big, in full plate armour. Obviously used as a scare tactic for whatever this man dealed with and for protection, for the same reason.
Jakkru crept from his hiding place and was stood a meter from the guard, he moved swiftly, finding the gap between the breastplate and the plate leggings, he grove three fingers between the gap and twisted, he felt the muscles in the mans back tighten and cramp up, he went stiff and wobbled, letting out a groaning noise the target turned to him, "What is i-"
Before the target could finish his sentence, Jakkru's rotting fingers were over his mouth and his dagger deep in his throat. He heard a gurgle come from the man as he choked on his own blood, the guard, helpless let out a muffled groan as Jakkru smiled at him. He dropped the man who fell limp to the floor, in a pool of his own blood. He looked at the guard and winked, before disappearing into the shadows.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
This is a post inspired by Issy, we were in Maraudon and she was on her little druid (which, if you refer to her as "druid" in a party, will earn you a place on "the list"). We were clearing trash and over vent, Issy innocently asks "Are we going to Landscape?" A few seconds pass, when Erc, who was our little bubbleton for the run goes, "What?" I burst out laughing and Issy goes "I couldn't remember the name, I knew it had "Land" in it!" She's never going to live it down, ever.
This brought back flash back after flash back of times when myself and others have attempted to name something in the Warcraft universe and failed.
Erc actually does this to me on a regular basis. With his alt names getting more and more complex I end up calling them different things - Misfatnachos, Titty and Wabbawhat? I'm terrible at pronouncing things for example, I cannot say "statistic" in any form. My mouth gets to about statis and then my tongue attempts to throttle me.
My best one, was asking in a pug back when Karazhan was the weekly badge grind, "We doing Illaran?" and the pug people asked "Is there a new boss?" I got their expectations up and in a second dashed them by going "Sorry, the demon guy, I cant remember his name."
Sunday, 21 March 2010
I'd been using the LFG tool and found it to be hit and miss on groups, some times being awesome others being complete boats of the fail variety.
So when some guys in S.A.N had caught up with me level wise (which was bloody fast, I may add!) I had someone to do a random with and I tell you this, my god it was a breathe of fresh air.
The group consisted of 3 priests, two of which spent the first 5 minutes of the run politely going "You can heal if you want." "No, you can if you want." "Seriously, you can heal." - I've never seen that before, EVER. It was great, if a little confusing when it came to applying a soulstone. We had the token paladin tank in there too, who was pretty much awesome. Even when I decided I was pulling a mob so I could go mine some precious mithril. Then there was me, who made everyone else look 20 times better.
I recently have gotten the reputation of being "Hellfire boi" (thanks Issy, it's spread through the guild!) mainly due to me being a bit silly and hellfiring myself to death while I was trying to find my book. I also have it because I use that as my main form of AoE (I wont do at end level, but while I'm grinding away in instances, I'm gonna do what I want!). It's a wonderful warlocky spell - damaging yourself a little to harm the enemy for loads? Check. Got the word "Hell" and "fire" in it? Check. Looks uber cool? Check.
It took 3 priests spamming Holy Nova to keep me alive on some AoE pulls but it was definintly worth it. I even got a "calm it down, hellfire boy!" over vent - inbetween Ercles playing some jazzy tunes after finding how to stream stuff on Ventrilo! All in all, random dungeons have never been as fun (or as jazzy!)
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Ahem, so on the theme of Whiny Post Day - which was this guys brain child. I shall have a little bit of a winge.
You know what I mean, that guy in the raid that is pretty much...crap, but you bring them along on the off chance that amazing gear you've gotten them by carrying them through all these instances might just make them into a better player.
Now, you cannot carry a tank. Unless in ToC10, where you can, kinda...You can carry a healer, but it's not easy so the majority of the time - you're carrying dps.
Dont get me wrong, I dont mind carrying undergeared people through, who when geared will be melting my face on the dps meters, will get better tanking/healing gear and be a valuable asset to raids. Hell, I've been carried through ToC10 on my warrior, I couldn't tank it, so I went in as loldps and was pretty much a spectator for the majority of it.
I dont even mind carrying the occasional guild member, infact, guild alts get carried a lot during the gearing stage. One shaman healer almost solo healed ToC10 when I was gearing Kranan, I pretty much healed him (when he took what little damage he did), myself (when I took large amounts of damage because standing in the fire is something I'm guilty of) or, shitting myself when it went tits up on Anub and he died and I had to heal the last 3%.
What I do kinda mind, is during PuGs. The whole "Link achievement and gearscore lol" is done, so that less people get carried. When I lead pugs, I prefer a good ol' inspection, rather than getting a number which pretty much means you can use the LFG tool effectivley.
Take yesterday for example. I went to ICC10 on Jakkru, as I missed the guild run this week. It was a partly another guilds run, but they lacked 3 dps. So I went as the token rogue and a mage joined.
He was in decent gear and I'd raided with him before and I knew, then and there, we'd be carrying him and anything that wasn't red would get rolled on before you could say "needers roll now." He was obsessed with gearscore, which didn't do him any favours as the elemental shaman who was 1.6k lower than him in gearscore, destroyed him on dps. It's these kinds of people that really annoy me when they win loot over someone who'll get more out of it. But what you gonna do, it happens everywhere.
People get carried. Be it in a rugby game, when one of the props you play with insists he's actually a thin person on the inside and decides he'll stand out of a ruck/maul with the backs. Or that guy who's late to all the group work for a seminar. They'll get carried and get their share of the glory, marks or in WoW, loot. It's life and as Forest Gump so gormlessly said it - Shit happens.
Saturday, 13 March 2010
If in a pug, all's fair in love and war. Rolls come and go, sometimes high, sometimes low. I can accept that pretty much. I have this little philosophy about loot - if it goes to someone who deserves it and is going to use that peice of loot to it's maximum potential, I have no problems with that. However, recently I've been losing a lot of loot and not to people who are going to use it as well as I am - A neck in a ICC10 pug on my rogue, lost. To someone who was in better gear than I am but pulling 2.5k less dps. A new sissy robe in a ToC25 pug on my mage, to someone who was below the tanks in damage AND dps - hopefully you can see what I'm getting at here, it's kinda a kick in the balls when you know that peice of loot is going to improve your dps but you're denied by a random number generater, which seems to (in my case) like folk that have been carried through content, dont have that much of a clue when it comes to their class dynamics and are just plain...bad. I cant be the only one, right? (If I am, please tell me and I'll attempt to stop being a dick :p)
Anyways, on to my rant. Which comes from the same ToC25 pug in which my 2 foot cannon was denied a nice, new sissy robe.
We'd just downed beasts, only just, the dps wasn't up to much. The tanks under-geared and paladin healer seemed to be healing the entire raid on his own. The raid leader then announced a "smoke break" for himself, the main tank, a healer and a rogue.
Excuse me, can you kill yourself on your own fucking time?
Smoking, in my opinion, is a filthy habbit. It's terrible, it's not big, it's not clever and you dont look sexy. At. ALL. And for myself and 21 other people to get held up for 3-5 minutes while you commit slow, slow, slow suicide using a cigarette? Well, that's just not on.
I took the time to get my, as Larisa would call it - favourite raid snack. Some blackcurrant juice. We killed Lord J after a few wipes and the actually kill... it was very close to a wipe. That 5 minutes had definintly unfocused our group. But I sacked it off and I got ready for a small wipefest on Champs, before the raid would eventually sink like the little fail boat it was.
"5 min smoke break" goes out in /rw. I kick off.
"Excuse me, can you kill yourself in your own time?"
"Is this your time?" the rogue answers.
"Yes, it is, as well as 21 other peoples."
"Well, tough." Rogue replies.
And they go afk. The following event, made me feel like I'd started a revolution. This was me, tearing down the metaphorical WoW Berlin Wall. I was like that guy in Cuba or something or other...
"Screw this guys, I've got the weekly done. I cant be bothered to have 20 minutes added on so people can smoke after every boss we kill." I said, in /ra.
"Me too" replies someone. Who then leaves.
Followed by another, then another, then another, then another. Quickly, the raid had actually disbanded to have what was 25 people turn into 14. Then 10, then 5. Myself and the smokers.
"Wtf?" the rogue says, as he comes back from suicide sticking
"I told you." I reply, before leaving the party and casting a portal. I then said in /s - "This is a no smoking portal, I'm sorry."
I'm that fucking cool.
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Basically, what I dont get is this - Saurfang (the older, not the one you're meant to fight) is hard as nails, right? He's so 'ard, his nightmares are scared of him. Thrall's pet name for him is "Mohammed-I'm 'ard-Bruce Lee." He's the cock of the Horde. How come, he gets so subdued so easily but a boss that's basically become a cake walk?
The /e of Saurfang charges made me think, the first time I did it anyway, that he was going to Cleave the undead right out of his son. I wouldn't have to do anything, wicked. But no. He gets choked, by some ability the Lich King has bestowed on Saurfang the Younger. The same ability he neglects to use against the 10 (or 25) people that then proceed to kill him, take his loot and let his daddy cry over his body.
This is one thing that has got to me over my time in Warcraft. The bad guys doing stuff to NPC's and completely leaving you alone.
Saurfang vs. His Son - Choking ability, completely fucks up the Kor'kron and Saurfang for the entire fight. Does it get used on us? Nope. He calls some blood beasts and marks someone, that's about it.
The Lich King vs. Trial of the Crusader - Seriously, the Lich King has had SO many chances to kill us, yet he doesn't. Trial of the Crusader? Arthas strolls in, doesn't touch the raid, that Argent Crusade paladin, the Alliance king or that really Angry Orc.
The Lich King vs. Drakuru - We kill the evil troll (mon!) that has basically given Arthas a new army of undead voodoo. Instead of pwning us? He lets us live because he can find a use for us - yep, we can kill you and get a nice title and a really gay fountain in Dalaran.
Back on point to the Saurfang thing - I'm not asking for the boss to be undefeatable. That'd be pretty shit. I just think that fighting alongside Saurfang while he's trying to kill his own son would be 40 times more epic than letting him slowly choke to death. Imagine it...
Saurfang: Taunt him off me champions, he has weakened me!
Tank 1: Okay! *Taunts*
Tank 2: I'll go DPS then, shall I?
Saurfang: No! You are needed champion! Taunt him off Tank 1, for he is also weakened!
Tank 2: Oh! Right, yeah! *Taunt misses*
Saurfang: You dont have the taunt glyph? What the hell?! I cant work under these conditions! Fuckin' noobs!
That'd be well cooler than...
/e Saurfang gasps for breath and attempts to hide his Hangman's erection
Saurfang: Thanks...*splutters*...guys...would have been fight fucked if it wasn't for you!
Raid: It's okay, mind if we grab your sons worldly possessions to use as gear?
Saurfang: Sure, sure...
Raid: Thanks. Oh wait!
Raid: Can we quickly screenshot this? Y'know, to show we killed him?
Saurfang: *Sighs* Be quick
Raid Leader: Okay, guys, get round his body. Rogue 1 - no gang signs!
Rogue 1: Awwwwh
Raid Leader: I'm kidding throw it up ther- Mage 1! Stop making dumbass faces, seriously!
Mage 1: Sorry!
Raid Leader: Okay on 3, everyone say "Saurfang's dead so-" TANK 1! Why do you have Saurfang the Younger posed like he's giving Tank 2 a blowj-
Saurfang: ENOUGH! Blah blah blah, honour, blah blah blah, remember, blah blah blah, regeants and repairs now available blah blah blah *cry*
But it isn't like that, so I'll have to make do and just get my 2 badges every week from a boss which will forever have me thinking two things, "Saurfang has gone soft with age" and "This is like Star Wars but...backwards."
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
FUCK. YOU. BLIZZARD. *Flips the bird*
An axe, ZOMG!
"I'm a Lumber-Jakkru and I'm okay!" - Thanks Issy for the axe, brought a smile to my day when I logged in :D
So yes, I got my axe. My hunter has two of them (by the way Blizzard, thanks for that. Pricks) but this was more special, it was well and truely earnt and I had a good time, even if I did piss and moan about it, grinding instances for it. All I need now is new boots and I'll be the happiest rogue ever!
Monday, 8 March 2010
The stuff that actually makes you angry in this game are pretty much caused by one thing; the people playing the game. Today, I witnessed internet bullying.
Bullying is pretty close to my heart, seeing as I've been at the recieving end of it before. Not in a game but in real life. High school - it's a bastard of a place, a place where you start playing rugby and get massive, so that people dont pick on you anymore.
Anyway, I was doing the Random daily on my shaman. I'd finally got my elemental set to reasonable level (hit capped, good amount of crit/haste/sp etc) so I decided to wait an extra 15 minutes and queue as a dps instead of a healer. Our group consisted of a well gear tank, had around 51k after getting Kings, a well geared paladin healer, a (again, well geared) hunter, a DK and myself.
I dont bother inspecting people when I get into randoms anymore, there's no point. Most people are in decent gear and I dont mind carrying the ones that aren't but as we got through some trash mobs, it was apparent this DK didn't have the greatest gear, so I gave him a quick /inspect and saw he was in mainly starter tanking gear (y'know, the stuff you wear when you're starting to tank heroics). He wasn't doing much dps, seeing as his "tanking" gear wasn't up to scratch and he obviously didn't have a dps set yet.
This poor DK (who was from Crushridge and obviously had extremely limited English, due to fact he hardly talked and when he did, it was hard to understand what he was on about) was the target of the hatred of the paladin and hunter.
The paladin and hunter, were guilded together and after around 2 minutes it started.
"Omfg, look at his gear. What a noob!" the paladin states in /p.
"hahahaha, ye, noob!" the hunter retorts
The tank questions them, simply with a "?"
"that dk look at his gear, noob."
"I hate people like this," the paladin says "I hate carrying noobs through instances. Wasting my time, I'm going to let him die. Doesn't deserve to live."
"yeah, look at him, he's in tanking gear. too shit to tank so he comes and wastes our time as dps. fucking noob." the hunter says, piping up with his guild mate.
At this point, I'd had enough. I'm all about protecting the little guys, the ones that cant stick up for themselves. The DK had try to ask what was wrong, simply by going "what?" and "sorry, i dont understand. my english bad" and yet, they kept going, getting progressivly worse and worse.
"He's not a noob," I said, "he's being sensible. He'd waste more time tanking the place and dying than he is now. Get off his back"
"lol, stfu. he's wasting my time. dont heal him or ress him" the paladin replied.
I decided that it wasn't worth my time to argue with him, until it got worse.
"can you understand us, [DK name]?" the hunter asked
"ofc he cant, he's fucking foreign" the paladin said
I could see the direction it was going in. Racism. My most hated thing in the world after walking behind someone who's going so slow that they interupt your walking pace and you cant pass them. That and people who have no business in shorts.
"Guys, shut up. Stop being pricks. We're almost done and you can go back to being elitist pricks" I piped up.
"No, I'm sick of carrying these crushridge pricks, they dont even know english and they're all shit players, look at him, he's getting a free ride."
"I bet you were carried at some point," I pointed out "So leave off him, he's obviously just starting out.
"I dont care, he's wasting my time. I hate people that waste my time. Shitty foreign DK."
"hahahahaha" goes the little prick of a hunter.
I was reaching for the Vote to kick button, when I realised, it was definintly a Mexican Standoff situation. I voted him out, his guild mate voted me out and I've been jibbed out of 2 frost about a minute away from the last boss.
I decided to grit my teeth and bare it, I had no idea how to report someone cross server. So as soon as the last boss was dead, I had my frost badges, I laid into them both. I wasn't having this.
"You're an embarrassment to English people," I lashed, "and an embarrassment to your server and guild. You've spent 15 minutes bullying a person who doesn't have a clue what you're on about. You've been racist and complete pricks. How can you have such a problem with someone in a game?"
The reply? - "whatever, gay." and they left.
I sat at my laptop after I'd ported out back to the saftey of my own realm and just thought about what had happened and if I had ever been such a prick to someone - thankfully I couldn't think of a time I'd been like this, yeah, I might have commented on someone's gear but I usually always (if I can) give people some tips on ways to improve.
It was the first time I'd really seen this, I'd heard of people bullying others over the internet, or via text but I'd never seen it. I'm pretty sure it was made worse because the DK didn't understand. He might have understood a little but didn't have a clue how to reply to it. That would have been much worse.
People getting so angry at someone who was actually doing the right thing? I remember when first gearing my warrior for tanking. I tagged along with a guild member who needed badges for his retribution gear and needed nothing from heroics. I did shit dps but atleast I wasn't getting smacked upside the head, in nothing more than a paper bag with a little bit of defence on it.
I was more than likely being over protective as it's a subject close to heart but still, it made me think of the people that play this game. As soon as someone is behind a screen and there's no face to face confrontation, there's no stopping them. People who could be nice in the real world, are pricks to total strangers and openly racist infront of other people. People have been blogging recently on being Anoymous and Ercles has a post from a while a go about people being pricks when behind an avatar.
I got a little laugh at the end of it, after explaining it to a friend of mine on the alliance side, he simply went "little dicks, innit." Explains it all. The insecure wankers.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
Introducing Darju! My level 41 warlock! There's his imp, looking in the wrong direction (pretty much sums him up in general, useless wanker...) and my awesome hat. The Tabard was designed by Tam - who's alt Kumquat likes Orange...just a little bit too much.
So yeah, my first impressions of the guild are wicked. We've got a wonderful mix of people, some bloggers, some blog readers. Male, female. European and even some token Americans/Canadians! Bloggers cant half mobilise. When called, or they see the special Blog-symbol (like the Bat-symbol but y'know, more awesome) they're there in a flash, armed to the teeth with conversation, witty character names and puns about Tauren.
Thursday, 4 March 2010
First thing I saw - they've CHANGED. I have a troll hunter and was actually surprised to see Beserking was a flat haste buff and didn't scale with lost health. Quite frankly, I'm not impressed! If there was a stupidly annoying Facebook page called "The Change to the troll racial Beserking" I would not be a fan of it. I used to love my little dips in the fire™ to lower my health a bit before hitting Beserking. It was risky and if it paid off, you'd do more dps. My arrows would block out the sun they'd be going that fast. If it didn't pay off, you looked like a right fool infront of a pug or even worse, your fellow guildies! It fitted a Horde race aswell, you're backed into a corner. Maybe you've lost a limb (dont worry, it'll regenerate later - maybe even longer ;)), you're out numbered. What do you do? You turn green, nasty and start windmilling like a motherfucker.
I'd known about the change to the Orc racial back when it was made, mainly because I wasn't getting a debuff when I popped it. I wasn't impressed with that either - seeing as the racial fitted the Orc so well, especially as a warrior. You start swinging madly, taking no regard for your health but pwning extra hard? Yeah, that's proper Orcish. You can almost hear the "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUWR!" in the name - Blood Fury.
I certainly wasn't a fan of the Will of the Forsaken change - sharing cooldowns with trinkets? Screw you Blizzard.
Blood Elves get their silence/mana restoration thingy, which is pretty useful in OOM situations but I really do feel Taurens got the short end of the racial stick - 5% health is really useful, granted but going "Cow SMASH!" and being awesome at picking flowers? Not really that good. If any race deserves something that increases Strength or something, it's a massive, muscular freakin' cowmanbeast.
With thoughts of a faction change I started looking at the alliance Racials and it's pretty easy to see who Blizzards golden child is - Humans. They've got fucking everything! Racial which gets rid of movement imparing effects and fear and stuff? Check. Reputation bonuses? Check. Passive Stealth detection? Check. Increased Spirit? Check. And to cap it off, Expertise with not one but TWO weapons. Wankers.
Dwarves have that Stoneform, which is pretty nifty for a tank. Night elves have Shadowmeld and something that makes them harder to hit (okay, I kinda skipped over the nelf racials because I dont like them...) and Spacegoats are good with gems, have a little self heal and more importantly require 1% less hit, which is cool.
But then again, after all this, I'd decided that if I were to faction change. I'd be a dwarf, because they're awesome, their combat animations rock, they look good in most kinds of armour, they Riverdance, are about 4 feet tall and love to get drunk. The only down side is the terrible Scottish accents.
Looking back, I didn't really care about the racials at all. No one really does, except for the "elite." I always used to get asked - "Why didn't you roll and Orc or Troll rogue?" and my answer was simple - Undeads are cool, their combat animations rock and while you're running around getting feared in a raid, I'm stood there, hacking at whatever is in front of me.
Monday, 1 March 2010
But that didn't phase me, because today I met a player who was genuinely skilled. He was a random hunter, in a guild that I cant pronounce. I'm gonna call him Mr.Neeson - because he has a certain set of skills.
He was the unconventional Beast Master specc. Which is renowned for being super for levelling but pretty terrible at end game (well not terrible but when compared with Survival or Marksmanship speccs in the same gear, it gets left eating their metaphorical dust).
There was another Random hunter in the group, who I'm going to Mr.Arrogant. He was in 3 parts T10 and thought he was gods gift to all things hunter. He was a cookie cutter Survival build.
The gear difference between the two hunters wasn't that much. Mr.Neeson was sporting 4 parts T9, some ICC10 epics and the 264 bow from ICC25. Mr.Arrogant as said before was in 3T10 and some ICC/ToC10 epics. Pretty even.
We had a wipe on beasts, our tank disconnected and the other tank ended up on 13 stacks. Not nice to heal. The second attempt was much better and what I saw was something very surprising, Mr.Neeson was pwning. I automatically thought "Mr.Arrogant is utterly terrible, getting beaten by a BM hunter..." but no, Mr.Arrogant was a close second, a few dps behind Mr.Neeson and around 1% damage. I was quite shocked, I was in a party with someone who was skilled...
Mr.Arrogant spotted this and asked - "lol, why you bm? go surv or mm and you'll do more dps." I had to stop myself pointing out that Mr.Neeson was beating Mr.Arrogant but the self-proclaimed gods gift to hunters had a valid point.
Now, this next bit. Made me smile as this is pretty much my view on the whole game.
Mr.Neesons response was simply "I like playing BM, it's more fun and I play for fun. I've been BM for a while and I've got good at it..."
Hats off to you! I used to love BM back in the old 1:1 or 3:2 macro days. Cooldown management, micro-managing your pet so it was alive on even some of the hardest bosses. Trying to keep your mana topped up without wasting a global cooldown and generally having tonnes of fun. I was miffed when they changed it a little and luckily on my Hunter I gave Survival a go and it was amazing fun and also good dps.
I started thinking about what Mr.Neeson said while I was spam healing on Twins and I had to admit, this game is definitly more fun when you're doing stuff the way you like to.
I'm pretty skint in game but that's because I dont do dailys or grind - why? Because it's too much like work. When I come in from a day of lectures, the last thing I want to do is spend an hour repeativly killing mobs. I'll more than likely sit in Dalaran and catch up on the days events with my guildies, run a few instances or generally mess around.
I was also thinking of the downside to this. Cookie cutter speccs are cookie cutter for a reason - they're good. They make raids better, progress further and therefore increase enjoyment. I suppose if you're playing the specc you like AND have the skills to pull it off, then it's fair do's but if everyone was playing the game how they wanted to, it could definintly get messy, especially with some of the speccs I've seen on some people...