Been a while since I've dicked around with people, and since I've been playing with Äsclepius more, I've REALLY dicked around more than usual. For those of you who aren't privvy first hand, Äsclepius trolls you. That said, allow me to lay the scene.
I'm tanking on One, waiting for 'Pius (pronounced "Pious," but I say "Peeus") to show up, so I decided to level via insta-queue, catch up a bit because he was ahead in the bars. At 83 and 84, you've got two choices for instances: Bonercore or Vortex Testicle. I get Testicle, and it's already up to Puff, the Magic Dragon. Brilliant.
I'm with a Mage, a Priest, a DK, and Fartzapper, an Elemental Shaman, who, at the time of writing this and seeing his armory, has six items that give Agility, two items that give Strength, and an Intellect headpiece that has an Attack Power and Resilience enchant.
Mm. This is already awesome.
We down Puff, surf the jetstream, and I start marking. I take a gander at recount as markers go up. Farts is pulling about 1200 DPS. I quietly give him the benefit of the doubt.
Mage gets Moon, Shaman gets Panties; I don't really trust some pug Priest healer that isn't 'Pius to MC the Adept. I announce in party what each marker means. CC pulls, I pull off, but Panties is still walking around. The Minister of Air is annoying. He's got a green thong on his head and he's lobbing electricity like he's Tesla for a good five seconds before the priest, who wasn't told what to do, who is also healing, MC's the Minister and tosses him off the side for relief. The Elemental shaman is meleeing. I get a whisper from the mage before the next pull.
I promise that Rift article is coming. Anyway, after I reassign duties properly and everyone BUT the shaman rolls like a pro, I engage in a bit of conversation.
Hey, you never know. I'm not gonna call someone bad if they're just distracted. And if they're constantly distracted, like Repello always is, then yeah, I'm gonna call him or her a baddie. Kids, don't be a Repello.
My issue? Buddy, you are my issue. I will not suffer a lazy toddler. Carry you? Fuck your mother.
Stars are up next, know what he does to try and make up for shit DPS? Earth Elemental Totem, GO!
I don't understand. HELP ME UNDERSTAND YOU. No? K, next pull. No Hex, I'm not gonna ask you to look through your spell book. Not gonna educate you on how to play your class. Not my job. I am curious though. After a pull, noticing that myself, the DK, the Mage, and even the Priest show up on the recount, I inquire further.
Kinda understood what you said. Not really.
"Let's just go"?! Peanut gallery's restless. Seriously, have we gotten to this? I'd have thought, with the advent of the new expansion, we'd have gotten back to humbler roots; I was under the assumption that the somewhat-harder-than-Lich-King content would do away with the loosely supported arrogance. Here's Farts though, proving my assumptions wrong, talking big without even a foot to stand on.
So we kill the last group of stars and I give it a shot.
Apparently the group isn't with me. You uninvolved prats. Thanks for making me lose more faith in humanity. Asaad goes down easy; the shaman even knows to get in the triangle, which tells me he's done this before and has been carried quite often. He proceeds to be a fully-realized fucktard.
Captured Lightning, by conventional standards, is a healing trinket. Pretty sure he doesn’t need Billowing Cape, unless I missed something in Caster 101. I query his intentions.
Perhaps now, since the instance is over, I'll get a fairly straight forward, reasonable answer.
Lemme fix that for you. What you should have said was, "I LIKE BLUE, IT'S MY FAVORITE COLOR." I would have accepted that, thanked you for your time, and wished you luck in all your endeavors, both in game and IRL, as it's so very difficult for those who are headfucked by a serrated dildo to fit in with normal society.
I know, I know. I could have laid into the guy. Could have left him writhing in agony; could have left him cut with a scathing remark or some witty repartee to turn his teeth inside out and make him wish he really was playing Rift (God help him). But no. Went with the poke and bolted. I could tell, deep down, that dry puss was feverishly banging at the keyboard, raging like the anonymity doth allow him, and I honestly just wanted to ding, so getting out of there was priority number one for me.
In any case, I want you out there, my few and loyal readers, to pay him a visit on his fair Darrowmere. Ask him, sincerely, what the flying urethra fuck is he doing with Strength gear. Ask him nicely though. Then tell him to check out DressedtoCuddle.com. :)