During most in-game events you'll usually find me wading through the achievements and attempting to collect all that I can of the annually, or even one time, occurrences that may affect our World (of Warcraft). I've bested each of the holidays, did what I could during the Olympics, paid $20 to try out in the World Open Arenas, and, even out-of-game, when the pay-per-view Internet stream goes up for BlizzCon 2009, I'll be there too. I enjoy the community of WoW and the events they hold for it. EXCEPT ONE.
DICK TO MOUNTAIN DEW AND THEIR BULLSHIT GAMER FUEL.
I see on WoW.com that, oh shit Timmy (my name's not Timmy, but anyway), screw your dailies, get on the interwebs, ticky-da-tack on your keyboard to Mountain Dew's Website and get a free, no questions ask or money dumped, battle-bot pet!
I go in, ticky-da-tack that jive and I am all up in that bottom right button for the bot, YEA! EFFING ROBOTS ROCK! I redeem that shit so hard, I'm so excited, and almost instantly, poof, the little dude's in the mail.
I get him, I set him up, and what do I find: A SEVERELY EMO ROBOT. His tanks are empty, his demeanor is depressing, he just sulks; If I saw this thing at a party, he'd be the friend of the friend who doesn't know anyone, doesn't socialize much, and gets left in the crowd when the friend who invited him goes off to the pool area AND HE DIDN'T BRING HIS SWIMMYPANTS. Disclaimer: I'm not that guy. I've always been told there are two kinds of people: those that know and love me, and those who haven't met me yet. You can shut your trap right now. Toot toot, that's my horn.
So I try to cheer him up: ask him what he needs, seems he's all outta juice. I play him some upbeat music (Belinda Carlisle isn't his bag), get him a Zoloft (my CD tray is stuck now because I tried that), hell, I kill Alli for 20 minutes with him out, nothing.
I scan and skim articles on this new pet; seems I need to give him some in-game fuel. Alright, now how do I go about getting it? Let's just play assumption, since the home page for the little guy has the words "redeem," "enter to win," and "claim," I'm just going to assume you have to participate in this jazz. So I register.
They ask for my email, address, DOB, if I want a newsletter (I don't care, I'll throw it out or delete it, pfftt, whatev), if I drink Pepsi products, I say yes (hardly drink soda), how much, I give them the max (brown nose), and twenty-three skadoosh, I'm part of the Horde...of sodadrinkers. So I get tokens and every 15 minutes I could win...stuff. I really just want my robot to stop being sad. I keep browsing this Flash-enabled BS of a site to find where I get Robot Juice and just as I'm about to have a brain aneurysm I punch a hole through my screen, kick a baby, and storm outta the house (not really, I'd never punch my screen, but I keep a stack of babies next to the PC tower).
It must be in the bottles, I thoughtfully think to myself. I grab my 1887 Ol' West Duster and Canesword, hop in the Corolla, and bomb down the avenue to the Super Target.
At the Super Target (say it like the French), I bustle about trying to find a bottle of the sultry nectar. Don't you worry, my little battle-bot friend, I'll find you the power you need. I move quickly and with purpose, up and down the aisles, my duster flapping with my stride, my Canesword in my hand, banging into the fake linoleum with every other step. I accost a women with a red polo and khakis, the blade of my Canesword upon her jugular. I ask her politely, "TELL ME WHERE BE THE DEW WITH THE ORC AND THE NELF." Her fear is palpable, her direction, true. I find a cooler towards the front with both types of Mountain Dew. You will be merry, my new little one, merry you shall be!
I had not the time to mince about: I had to make a choice between either. While in my core I am Horde4LIFE (represent), I did not want to tarry from other possibilities; mind you, the pet doesn't care what color runs through its veins but that its veins are full of spunk and hoohah. The cooler also happened to be in the express lane, so there was a line forming behind me and I wasn't even holding anything to purchase. It was more annoying when the old lady in the electric shoppy-scooter-with-a-basket behind me kept inching closer and closer to my ankle with a surly grimace. I grabbed a bottle of each, paid, shot the scooter woman a nasty look, gave a shifty glance to everyone around me, yelled, "LOK'TAR OGAR!" and stormed out, clutching my two bottles and banging my Canesword.
When I returned home I proceeded to examine the bottles. I looked behind the labels, under the caps, no code, no form of in-game redemption. Piece. Of. SHIT. Stupid assumption. I look abouts some more on forums (which I should have done), and I found out that you have to click the same bottom right hand button to redeem the fuel. No purchase necessary. Ess. Ohh. Bees.
I do that, and within the hour, I get my in-game fuel. I apply it, my little robot is no long emo-bot but HELLYESTHANKYOUJESUS-bot. The digital joy on his digital face made me squee with simple elation, and if I hadn't have gone to all that trouble, it'd have been better reveled.
Joseph got his battle bot and fueled it up as well (with the opposing color, and after I had told him of my adventure so he didn't have to bother with that shit) and we made a stand to do battle in the UC.
What proceeded to happen was the most anemic battle between two robots I've ever seen, and I've seen a shit ton of robot battles. I thought, hey, they look kind of like the Clockwork Christmas Bots, maybe it'll be as cool as that, NO! They just kind of spin around and a ribbon of lightning is between their hands. YOU'RE LAME BATTLE-BOT. MY ANKLES WERE ALMOST RAN-DA-EFF OVER BY A OLD BAT CUZ OF YOU.
Dejected at his not-so-awesomeness, I decide, why not, let's take a swig of this swill I got next to me. Since I'm Horde4Life (represent), I take a mouthful of the Citrus Cherry.
I gulp, gag, run to the kitchen, fumble through the cupboard, get a glass, and chase it down with vodka. Disgusting. Sheit. It's like someone took a Sweet Tart, crushed it up, and made me snort it through my eye. I was a little afraid to try the blue one.
I go back to my room with the bottle of Smirnoff in hand, just in case, and I open the blue bottle and took a taste. Tolerable, still dreadful, but far better than that red-orange crap.
I pour out both bottles into the bathroom sink.
To conclude: Mountain Dew, you suck. I don't like your attempt to sway the gaming public to buy your gross products. Also, you owe me new PVC pipes for my bathroom sink because your product ate through to the cabinet below.
And your commercials suck. SRSLY?! Okay, commentary:
I get that you're trying to make it seem HXC, but this is painfully the opposite. Yea, attractive chicks sell, but wtf. The Horde chick turned into a beefy male orc. Some girls play dudes in the game, but not like this. It's like the citrus cherry flavor has a full dosage of testosterone or something. I honestly got really scared the first time I saw her scream bloody murder and then morph into a dude. "RAAAAAHHHHHH $25 SEX CHAAAAANGE!"