Thanks Gobbies. I dig your neat toys so far. :)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The end is so very effing nigh
The ground beneath them rumbles, and each one takes their respective places to prepare for the changes that have been foretold.
Cartwright, a strong-willed and aspiring shaman, stands upon the threshold of Orgrimmar. Much change has come in the last few days to his people and the Horde; Cartwright learned of Thrall’s self-bestowed quest to face the elemental threat, leaving Garrosh Hellscream in charge. Cartwright had never been fond of the son of Grommash, and despite all attempts to enlist with the Earthen Ring, the young shaman was denied, as he lacked the formidable aptitude to join. He knows the time has come to make his choice: enter these gates and relinquish his freedom to the tyrant-to-be, or leave, never to return, seeking his purpose elsewhere and at his own volition, gaining what he can of what's left of the shattering world beneath his feet as he prepares to join the Earthen Ring. Cartwright stands at the gates, feeling the earth quake beneath him.
Qi, the taciturn assassin, sits on a step of a short flight of stairs down Murder Row of Silvermoon. With a sharpening stone, she works at the blade of a dagger. There’s a nick, where an Alliance sword had met her parry. She runs the stone across the forged steel, methodically and with great care. A tremble from the ground beneath her causes her hand to go astray, pushing hard against the grain. The blade nearly snaps, but she’s quick to move her hand just in time to avoid causing undue pressure upon the metal. The point digs into her wrist with her movement, and as blood runs down the hilt, Qi neither howls nor panics, but calmly lifts the blade out and sheaths it. She quickly bandages the wound. Later, she thinks to herself, she could find a dummy to practice on, maybe recuperate through fighting. She looks to her side at the sheath with the nicked dagger. The blade is flawed, which she’d have to live with, as blades do come and go. It’ll serve her well enough in her next fight with the Alliance, thinking of her battles to come in Tol Barad. The stories of the place came across the seas and lands, and her appetite for a good fight will be sated. She looks to her other dagger, sheathed, and pulls it from its holding. Blood covers it from point to hilt. While the other had the nick, this one met its mark. She wouldn’t clean it, she thought. If one isn’t perfect, best to leave the other as it is.
Oneironaut, paladin of the Light, paces back and forth in Farstriders’ Square. He has lived a life full of purpose and camaraderie, helping and serving any wherever he was needed. Now, feeling change in the air, he cannot fathom a rightful place for himself. What is he to do, now that his brothers and sisters in arms have taken to their own adventures? Only recently has he returned to Warsong Gulch to reclaim the ground he lost so long ago, and even that, as satisfying as battle can be, is still not the same as it once was when he was new to the world. His armor, mismatched in style and purpose, tells of past exploits and adventures of which he holds a great fondness for. Now, as the ground shakes, cracks spider-webbing across the fine buildings and stonework floor, he takes a knee. The time will come when he will be needed once more by his friends. For now, he prays.
Wash, executive-underboss-assistant-manager-in-training to the esteemed and highly respected (only at face value, of course) Trade Prince Gallywix, dances the night away. His shuffle is legendary among the goblins of Kezan, and at his party, celebrating nothing in particular, he shows his party goers what this groove is all about. The ground trembles beneath his feet, and for a brief moment, each goblin in attendance pauses to collect themselves. Far in the distance, a massive explosion is heard; running outside, goblins set their gaze on the not-so-dormant Mount Kajaro. Lava spews from its maw, the ground shakes and buildings begin to collapse. Sirens can be heard across the island, as can Gallywix’s voice. He demands money in return for a safe passage off the island. Wash debates his options: go to a bank and withdraw everything, closing all accounts and cashing in all his stocks; get a gun and start robbing houses and other goblins, then head to the bank and rob that; or start swimming. The lava has reached his home and has begun to burn the foundation, and Wash knows, at that very moment, the fun of the next few moments depends on how much he could steal.
Oathbreaker, Loremaster and well-rounded brigand, screams in the face of an already dead corpse. Since his exile from Orgrimmar for accidentally burning down the Auction House, he took to the wilderness and found a knack in killing off small Alliance settlements for fun. The citizens of Southshore never knew such terror and few understood what pain truly felt like until the warlock visited that morning. Magistrate Maleb’s left leg is missing, and all he can do, as he tries dragging his battered husk with one functional arm across the splintered wood of the burning town hall, is look on as Oathbreaker demands a dead guard the whereabouts of a competent tailor to fix the seam of his robe, which he calls a “man dress.” The ground trembles violently, and a timber beam falls on Maleb, killing him instantly. Oathbreaker’s attention turns to a tremendous noise outside of the town hall. Dropping the dead guard, he runs outside, bearing witness to a tidal wave bigger than Black Temple itself. He summons a Demon Portal down, hoping that wherever he may be once the wave hits, he could just poof back to safety. He begins to cackle uncontrollably at nothing in particular. He stands at the end of everything, hoping that the water, devastating as it appears to be, is at least relatively warm.
Cartwright, a strong-willed and aspiring shaman, stands upon the threshold of Orgrimmar. Much change has come in the last few days to his people and the Horde; Cartwright learned of Thrall’s self-bestowed quest to face the elemental threat, leaving Garrosh Hellscream in charge. Cartwright had never been fond of the son of Grommash, and despite all attempts to enlist with the Earthen Ring, the young shaman was denied, as he lacked the formidable aptitude to join. He knows the time has come to make his choice: enter these gates and relinquish his freedom to the tyrant-to-be, or leave, never to return, seeking his purpose elsewhere and at his own volition, gaining what he can of what's left of the shattering world beneath his feet as he prepares to join the Earthen Ring. Cartwright stands at the gates, feeling the earth quake beneath him.
Qi, the taciturn assassin, sits on a step of a short flight of stairs down Murder Row of Silvermoon. With a sharpening stone, she works at the blade of a dagger. There’s a nick, where an Alliance sword had met her parry. She runs the stone across the forged steel, methodically and with great care. A tremble from the ground beneath her causes her hand to go astray, pushing hard against the grain. The blade nearly snaps, but she’s quick to move her hand just in time to avoid causing undue pressure upon the metal. The point digs into her wrist with her movement, and as blood runs down the hilt, Qi neither howls nor panics, but calmly lifts the blade out and sheaths it. She quickly bandages the wound. Later, she thinks to herself, she could find a dummy to practice on, maybe recuperate through fighting. She looks to her side at the sheath with the nicked dagger. The blade is flawed, which she’d have to live with, as blades do come and go. It’ll serve her well enough in her next fight with the Alliance, thinking of her battles to come in Tol Barad. The stories of the place came across the seas and lands, and her appetite for a good fight will be sated. She looks to her other dagger, sheathed, and pulls it from its holding. Blood covers it from point to hilt. While the other had the nick, this one met its mark. She wouldn’t clean it, she thought. If one isn’t perfect, best to leave the other as it is.
Oneironaut, paladin of the Light, paces back and forth in Farstriders’ Square. He has lived a life full of purpose and camaraderie, helping and serving any wherever he was needed. Now, feeling change in the air, he cannot fathom a rightful place for himself. What is he to do, now that his brothers and sisters in arms have taken to their own adventures? Only recently has he returned to Warsong Gulch to reclaim the ground he lost so long ago, and even that, as satisfying as battle can be, is still not the same as it once was when he was new to the world. His armor, mismatched in style and purpose, tells of past exploits and adventures of which he holds a great fondness for. Now, as the ground shakes, cracks spider-webbing across the fine buildings and stonework floor, he takes a knee. The time will come when he will be needed once more by his friends. For now, he prays.
Wash, executive-underboss-assistant-manager-in-training to the esteemed and highly respected (only at face value, of course) Trade Prince Gallywix, dances the night away. His shuffle is legendary among the goblins of Kezan, and at his party, celebrating nothing in particular, he shows his party goers what this groove is all about. The ground trembles beneath his feet, and for a brief moment, each goblin in attendance pauses to collect themselves. Far in the distance, a massive explosion is heard; running outside, goblins set their gaze on the not-so-dormant Mount Kajaro. Lava spews from its maw, the ground shakes and buildings begin to collapse. Sirens can be heard across the island, as can Gallywix’s voice. He demands money in return for a safe passage off the island. Wash debates his options: go to a bank and withdraw everything, closing all accounts and cashing in all his stocks; get a gun and start robbing houses and other goblins, then head to the bank and rob that; or start swimming. The lava has reached his home and has begun to burn the foundation, and Wash knows, at that very moment, the fun of the next few moments depends on how much he could steal.
Oathbreaker, Loremaster and well-rounded brigand, screams in the face of an already dead corpse. Since his exile from Orgrimmar for accidentally burning down the Auction House, he took to the wilderness and found a knack in killing off small Alliance settlements for fun. The citizens of Southshore never knew such terror and few understood what pain truly felt like until the warlock visited that morning. Magistrate Maleb’s left leg is missing, and all he can do, as he tries dragging his battered husk with one functional arm across the splintered wood of the burning town hall, is look on as Oathbreaker demands a dead guard the whereabouts of a competent tailor to fix the seam of his robe, which he calls a “man dress.” The ground trembles violently, and a timber beam falls on Maleb, killing him instantly. Oathbreaker’s attention turns to a tremendous noise outside of the town hall. Dropping the dead guard, he runs outside, bearing witness to a tidal wave bigger than Black Temple itself. He summons a Demon Portal down, hoping that wherever he may be once the wave hits, he could just poof back to safety. He begins to cackle uncontrollably at nothing in particular. He stands at the end of everything, hoping that the water, devastating as it appears to be, is at least relatively warm.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Remembering the Fallen
First off, my apologies for being absent for so long, I never wanted to take this much time off from something I love and care about, but real life sometimes gets in the way. Expect things in the future, and Wartenx, I got you bro, I’ll talk with you this weekend. On to the post.
Today is Veterans’ Day here in America; it’s a day in which all US citizens take the time to remember the military veterans who have served the United States. There used to be importance for this day, but I still see people working and going about their daily lives. Several of my students didn’t know what the day was intended for. It’s sad to think that a day rooted in the ideals and beliefs of our country could be met with such ignorance, even such disdain.
World of Warcraft has the Harvest Festival, celebrated very briefly for a week in late September, and the idea behind it is just the same: remember the fallen. In that week, players can honor the spirits of soldiers past who wander the gates outside their major city, either Orgrimmar or Ironforge, for their respective faction. There is also a brief quest, in which the Horde honors Grom Hellscream in Ashenvale and the Alliance honors Uther the Lightbringer in Western Plaguelands, placing an offering at either’s monument. I recall a year or two ago when a few of my friends had done the quest, but complained severely that there wasn’t an achievement.
IRL or in Azeroth, our soldiers serve, but tend to be forgotten or unappreciated.
Growing up, my Uncle Terry has always been a close relative and a father figure. He reminds me of Bo Duke, with his southern drawl and charm. I used to watch John Wayne movies in the den with him and the rest of the family. His son and daughter have been my surrogate brother and sister since diapers (I’m an only child). I always knew my uncle had served, though I was never privy to what extent and under what circumstances. He was a marine assigned to a particular battleship during Vietnam, and as far as any of us were concerned, he had a good ol’ time just smoking and drinking, and then he came home. It wasn’t until I started working with veterans at an assisted living facility a couple years ago that I understood.
Uncle Terry and my aunt came down that summer, wanting to see what we were up to. He came by the ALF to see me work, not realizing there were veterans. He started making conversation, quietly at first, asking tiny questions. “What was your rank?” “Army? Navy?” “Did you know this guy in this platoon?” At first, I didn’t think anything of it, just military guys talking military. A few times Uncle Terry had to go out and smoke, which usually never took more than three minutes, but while he was at the ALF with me, he took fifteen minute breaks. I would check on him and see a few of his Marlboro butts by his feet. The end of the day, he got to talking with the VA benefits rep, and came to find they both had served as marines during the same tour, just stationed down the river from each other in Vietnam. As they were talking, I found that, in retrospect, it was the hardest conversation I have ever stood witness to.
My Uncle Terry sleeps an average of five hours every night, and has done so ever since I’ve known him. I never knew it was because his company was under fire, and the sound of bullets in the brush kept him up at night. I didn’t know he heard things, conversations down the hall or his name being called out by voices that don’t exist anymore. He avoided certain smells, scents that triggered memories that would excuse him from dinner tables and get-togethers so he could go into another room to collect himself. I never knew he would catch himself staring off into the distance, forgetting his task at hand. I had no idea he served three tours, one of which so his brother wouldn’t have to.
When the day was over and we went home, I talked with my uncle; I told him that I loved him, but I also told him thank you.
Whether you know it or not, hell, whether you care or you don’t, you have your liberties because of our soldiers. The ideals, beliefs, and intentions behind war are moot, for on this day we honor the selfless and the heroes. The reasons do not matter, only the action. If you observe Veterans’ Day, Remembrance Day, or Armistice Day in your respective country and you happen upon a former soldier, tell them thank you. You don’t have to believe in a damn thing or advocate why we fight, but be gracious to those who have fought for you and for all of us.
To anyone who has served or is serving in the military, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I am by no means a patriot, nor do I believe in everything my government does, but because of you, I love my country. Thank you.
Today is Veterans’ Day here in America; it’s a day in which all US citizens take the time to remember the military veterans who have served the United States. There used to be importance for this day, but I still see people working and going about their daily lives. Several of my students didn’t know what the day was intended for. It’s sad to think that a day rooted in the ideals and beliefs of our country could be met with such ignorance, even such disdain.
World of Warcraft has the Harvest Festival, celebrated very briefly for a week in late September, and the idea behind it is just the same: remember the fallen. In that week, players can honor the spirits of soldiers past who wander the gates outside their major city, either Orgrimmar or Ironforge, for their respective faction. There is also a brief quest, in which the Horde honors Grom Hellscream in Ashenvale and the Alliance honors Uther the Lightbringer in Western Plaguelands, placing an offering at either’s monument. I recall a year or two ago when a few of my friends had done the quest, but complained severely that there wasn’t an achievement.
IRL or in Azeroth, our soldiers serve, but tend to be forgotten or unappreciated.
Growing up, my Uncle Terry has always been a close relative and a father figure. He reminds me of Bo Duke, with his southern drawl and charm. I used to watch John Wayne movies in the den with him and the rest of the family. His son and daughter have been my surrogate brother and sister since diapers (I’m an only child). I always knew my uncle had served, though I was never privy to what extent and under what circumstances. He was a marine assigned to a particular battleship during Vietnam, and as far as any of us were concerned, he had a good ol’ time just smoking and drinking, and then he came home. It wasn’t until I started working with veterans at an assisted living facility a couple years ago that I understood.
Uncle Terry and my aunt came down that summer, wanting to see what we were up to. He came by the ALF to see me work, not realizing there were veterans. He started making conversation, quietly at first, asking tiny questions. “What was your rank?” “Army? Navy?” “Did you know this guy in this platoon?” At first, I didn’t think anything of it, just military guys talking military. A few times Uncle Terry had to go out and smoke, which usually never took more than three minutes, but while he was at the ALF with me, he took fifteen minute breaks. I would check on him and see a few of his Marlboro butts by his feet. The end of the day, he got to talking with the VA benefits rep, and came to find they both had served as marines during the same tour, just stationed down the river from each other in Vietnam. As they were talking, I found that, in retrospect, it was the hardest conversation I have ever stood witness to.
My Uncle Terry sleeps an average of five hours every night, and has done so ever since I’ve known him. I never knew it was because his company was under fire, and the sound of bullets in the brush kept him up at night. I didn’t know he heard things, conversations down the hall or his name being called out by voices that don’t exist anymore. He avoided certain smells, scents that triggered memories that would excuse him from dinner tables and get-togethers so he could go into another room to collect himself. I never knew he would catch himself staring off into the distance, forgetting his task at hand. I had no idea he served three tours, one of which so his brother wouldn’t have to.
When the day was over and we went home, I talked with my uncle; I told him that I loved him, but I also told him thank you.
Whether you know it or not, hell, whether you care or you don’t, you have your liberties because of our soldiers. The ideals, beliefs, and intentions behind war are moot, for on this day we honor the selfless and the heroes. The reasons do not matter, only the action. If you observe Veterans’ Day, Remembrance Day, or Armistice Day in your respective country and you happen upon a former soldier, tell them thank you. You don’t have to believe in a damn thing or advocate why we fight, but be gracious to those who have fought for you and for all of us.
To anyone who has served or is serving in the military, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I am by no means a patriot, nor do I believe in everything my government does, but because of you, I love my country. Thank you.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Brief Update, New Layout, Whatchoo Think?
Hi. Sorry. I'm back. I promise I won't do that again. Where have I been? Psshh, protecting our rights and our freedom, you ungrateful sonsofbitches.
Okay, not really.
In terms of the last contest, Oath vs. Fangore, I think it goes without saying that Wartenx of Burning Legion won, problem is, there is no Wartenx of Burning Legion. You transfer servers there, buddy? Let me know, I'll hang on to your card and the pet.
New layout. You like? I'm missing some widgets on the side. I'll add them later.
Next post is a big one. All about PvP.
See you at home, honey.
Okay, not really.
In terms of the last contest, Oath vs. Fangore, I think it goes without saying that Wartenx of Burning Legion won, problem is, there is no Wartenx of Burning Legion. You transfer servers there, buddy? Let me know, I'll hang on to your card and the pet.
New layout. You like? I'm missing some widgets on the side. I'll add them later.
Next post is a big one. All about PvP.
See you at home, honey.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Winner of Oath's BattleCry Contest, Pokemans, and NEW CONTEST!
LOL you procrastinators! My readers are just like me. Wait until the last minute. Or perhaps you guys didn't realize that there was a contest until just now, which is completely permissible. Despite that, I had five total entries. I took the names of the five, wrote them on slips of paper, folded them each in identical folding patterns, stuck them in a hat, mixed them up, pulled them all back out, wrote numbers on them, and then texted my non-bias, slightly indecisive, hot artist friend, Accio, to pick a number between 1 and 5. She picked 2. And your winner is:
AVARYSE! Hooray! Congo rats on your new plushie! Hit me up with a comment to this, Avaryse, with your choice of either the gryphon or wind rider, we'll play email tag for a bit about how you're gonna get it (oh, you'll get it all right, you'll get it hard), and in no time whatsoever, you'll be walking about Azeroth and IRL with your own cute and cuddly pet! Fucking crazy sauce, right? INORITE.
Honorable mention: Dino, way to rep the Horde, you've got the monitor I wanted, you're friggin' adorable, and thanks for unintentionally showing me mixpod off of your blog! Eric, you rock for having two screens of differing size on your desk, semi-steampunk headphones (or at least brass-colored ones), and the bitchin' sweet Trigun cat. Candice, should have took a pic with Velver's work laptop, lawl. Jkjk. And Agostini, your link's busted, but I still entered you in!
Thanks so much to everyone for submitting!
Now, what of the pokemans?
I bought Pokemon SoulSilver the other day for $2. How? Gamestop trade-ins and people loving up on me. It also helps to be friends with everyone in the store. As a result, I've been playing that quite a bit between work and going out. I'm sorry that I've been neglectful of the blog, but shit, when you've got to level Magikarp, you know you got some shitfest of grinding to do.
I'll be updating my progress in that game as well, just so you know what's up with my pokemoning.
Are you all ready for the new contest? Hmm? HMM?!
Introducing the OATH VS. FANGORE PHOTO CONTEST!
Here are the rules: There are two ways to enter for each submission, do both, and you get entered in TWICE. That's right! Do both ways to enter, and you get entered in the contest two sexy times. That's two chances to win. Two chances to rock this biotch. Two chances to make me so damn hot for you.
First way: Take a picture with Oathbreaker. No, not my alts. Not my bank toon. Me. Not someone else in my guild. No. With me. Oathbreaker. Take a photo with me. Not OF me. I want you to stand next to me, while both of us are facing forward, like a good, traditional photo, and screenshot that. If you're Horde, tell me you want a shot! Make it fun! We can /flex together! Or ride our motlcilks next to each other! Whatever you want! Just make sure it's with me!
The Alliance, is eligible as well, just be sure you take the picture WITH me, not of me. My dead body in WG doesn't count, neither does a front shot me with the back of your head, because you're looking at me. WITH me. K? k.
Second way (easier, I think): Take a picture of you saying “raping paper” to Fangore. Not hard, he's usually on. Can't miss him. All you need is him in the shot, with his name and guild name visible, and you saying "raping paper" to him. Of course he's not in on this, he has no idea this damn site exists. You can tell him if you want, I don't care.
Fun, yea? I think so. I'm always about making this even more fun. You know what? Let's do that. Let's make it more fun. Want a bonus way to win? Want two bonus ways to win? Here you go!
BONUS #1 way: Get into a verbal fight with Fangore and I'll enter you in the contest a third time! Show me screenshots of the conversation from the chat window and your name's in again!
BONUS #2 way: Win said verbal fight and get entered in the contest a fourth time! If I see pure pwnage in those screenshots, you get another chance at the prize!
So what is the prize? Depends. If you enter in the contest with only the two basic ways of entering, a photo with me and/or a photo of you saying “raping paper” to Fangore, you get a chance or two to win a sexy 60-day time card! That's right, two whole months of WoW on my tab. Do one or both of the bonus ways of winning, and you get the sexy 60-day time card AND your choice of either the Gryphon plushie or the Wind Rider plushie! DAMN STRAIGHT I MADE THIS DEAL SWEETER.
So thems the rules! Obviously, if you don't play on my server, you can make a Horde alt and accost me to take that photo with me or berate Fangore. Come to Farstriders! Say hi to me or insult Fuckgore! Take some pictures and submit them in the comments! Win sweet prizes! DO EET! Cut off date is Friday, April 30th, 2010, at 11:59PM. Get it in!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Shared Topic: Eavesdropping WoW Conversations IRL
I posted a Shared Topic at BlogAzeroth.com. It's about IRL stuff. Autobiographical shit, GO!
We have moments where the game gets to be too much and we have to venture out into the -groan- World of Realcraft. Occasionally, a WoWer must stymie the addiction for brief intervals of fresh air and actual sunlight to buy groceries, hang out with friends (you have some, don't lie), or get a new monitor because you Sinister Struck your last one with a ballpoint pen because you were GY camped in WSG.
In any case, we're out there, working and consorting, and our digital lives await us, always on our minds, pervading our thoughts and, to a greater extent, our conversations.
You probably deal with not being able to play much in the same way I do: you talk about it. I tend to not want to do things alone, as a general rule, so I usually get people involved. As a result, with the exception of maybe two people, everyone in my guild is friends and family. Having a conversation about WoW at the dinner table isn't odd, it's welcomed usually, and when I head to the movies with two or three friends, we can always talk about gear or theorycrafting. Even some of my friends who don't play know well enough about it because I've been trying to coerce them.
In talking about it, you can't help but run into a few people who play.
I was at the swanky mall in my town (you've always got the three-malls-in-your-area situation where there's the shitty one, the okay one that all the locals go to, and then the rich one where you can't afford anything but it's nice to walk through and people watch and window shop), walking abouts with Accio, my sexy artist friend with impeccable music taste, and at one point, had to bio break. The first floor restrooms are around the main entrance way of the mall, down a lengthy corridor, ending in much of the mall service offices, such as security and the post office, complete with a bench directly outside of the restrooms and an ATM beside them. Accio headed for the ladies' room to powder her nose and I went to powder mine (read: piss). Upon leaving the restroom, I rounded the corner, and there, sitting on the bench, is some silly-looking, lanky bastard with glasses, corduroy pants (who wears those anymore?) and an Alliance t-shirt. I stopped and stared, more than likely scowling. He looked up and saw my reaction, a quizzical look on his face. I scoffed, actually high-nosed him, and sat on the bench farthest away from him.
“What?” he asked. I leaned in.
“Your shirt is absurd,” I responded, as condescendingly as possible. Yes, I'm an asshole. Don't care. To me, the Alliance has to justify their pride. I wanted to see if this silly boy could do so.
“You...you play WoW?” he asked timidly.
“Your new king is a showboat emo kid. Just so you're aware.”
He looked confused at first, then like a bad electrical connection, my button-pushing finally turned on some lights in his head.
“Your Warchief is weak. Wrynn will crush all of those green-skinned monstrosities.”
Oh, there you are, you arrogant prick. I was hoping you weren't just some confused child playing because you heard it was a good game and you begged your mom for her credit card number. Let's dance.
“Your king is a door-kicking unprofessional. His success in politics will be marred by a severe amount of emotional compensation, muddling his judgment, a trait he so severely needs in times like this since Bolvar is dead, Magni has his thumb up his ass, Jaina can only shake her head, Tyrande shrugs her shoulders, and Mekkatorque is a feeble little tinkerer.”
He reeled, then retorted.
“Sylvanas eats brains, the Tauren dude is old, the troll guy...I don't even know his name, Thrall's a pussy, and that blood elf guy became a raid boss! How could you allow yourself to be part of such filth?”
Really? That's all you've got? I wasn't even looking at him, I was texting Accio, who was still in the restroom, about the situation.
Lawlnewb on the bench outside. Check it. He's rockin the Alli cresty on his breasty. I'm making fun of his shoes and his fake ass sword.
I heard a violent flush as though Accio kicked the shit out of the reservoir instead of flushing it properly. She came 'round the corner, looking slightly flustered. She took a look at this guy, who was now discussing the importance of proper bathing, saying that the Horde was “overall, a stinky faction,” then joined in on the conversation.
“I'm sorry, my boyfriend and I have a scheduled Stormwind raid in an hour. We have to go home.” She took me by the hand and I was like wuuuuuuuuuut?
As we were leaving, the Alliance guy's girlfriend came out of the bathroom and she was FAT32.
I turned to Accio in the parking lot.
“So we're dating now?”
“Psshh, no. When you texted me, I saw his girlfriend in the bathroom. I knew it was her because she had an Alliance pin on her purse. Her mustache made it easy.”
There are a myriad of other stories that stand out in my mind, and perhaps in the future I'll share them, but this one was the coup de grâce.
Check out BlogAzeroth.com for this Shared Topic and more, join in and write with us if you've got it in ya, and don't forget! Oath's BatteCry Plushie Contest! Submit your picture in the comments before March 20th and enter in to win your very own WoW Plushie with in-game pet!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
BattleCry: Oathbreaker Style and READER CONTEST!
This morning, Blizzard Entertainment finished their BattleCry Community Mosaic, a compilation of an astounding 20,000 player-submitted photos. Players were asked to send in a photo of themselves repping their respective faction.
It goes without saying, we Horde represented better. ;)
The final product is an impressive piece, showcasing the racial leaders in grandiose beauty, which you can download here in a number of formats, including dual-screen! Sweet!
There is one problem I see with it though.
WHERE THE FUCK AM I?
I mad fucking important to your WoWing experience, dawg, Oathy gotta be up in that shit.
So I made my own version.
Hit the link to download the zip file. Yes, it's RapidFail. I'm sorry. Keep trying. It'll download sometime. I did high quality for both standard and widescreen format, as well as an iPhone Horde version (Sorry Alli and Droid users, y'ain't cool enough). Just stretch the bitch, I'm not gonna do it for you. Don't complain! You own a computer, fucking use that shit and learn some Photoshop. Middle schoolers can doodle their MySpace better than you can resize a wallpaper.
READER CONTEST: Submit a photo of yourself next to your monitor or with your iPhone with my wallpaper on it in the comments of this post and I'll put your name into a hat for a drawing to win your choice of either the Wind Rider Cub or the Gryphon Hatchling. That's right, I will buy you a plushie that comes with an cute in-game pet! All you've got to do is submit a photo!
Official Rules: Everyone is eligible. Photo of monitor or iPhone with reader's face somewhere in there is required; cannot be edited or doctored. Submit only once, as only one entry is required. Submission cut-off is at 11:59PM EST on Sunday, March 20, 2010. After the winner is drawn, I'll make a successive post, announcing the winner, and then we'll work out shipping and information. DO NOT post your email, address, or any other contact information in the comments. That's just dumb.
It goes without saying, we Horde represented better. ;)
The final product is an impressive piece, showcasing the racial leaders in grandiose beauty, which you can download here in a number of formats, including dual-screen! Sweet!
There is one problem I see with it though.
WHERE THE FUCK AM I?
I mad fucking important to your WoWing experience, dawg, Oathy gotta be up in that shit.
So I made my own version.
Hit the link to download the zip file. Yes, it's RapidFail. I'm sorry. Keep trying. It'll download sometime. I did high quality for both standard and widescreen format, as well as an iPhone Horde version (Sorry Alli and Droid users, y'ain't cool enough). Just stretch the bitch, I'm not gonna do it for you. Don't complain! You own a computer, fucking use that shit and learn some Photoshop. Middle schoolers can doodle their MySpace better than you can resize a wallpaper.
READER CONTEST: Submit a photo of yourself next to your monitor or with your iPhone with my wallpaper on it in the comments of this post and I'll put your name into a hat for a drawing to win your choice of either the Wind Rider Cub or the Gryphon Hatchling. That's right, I will buy you a plushie that comes with an cute in-game pet! All you've got to do is submit a photo!
Official Rules: Everyone is eligible. Photo of monitor or iPhone with reader's face somewhere in there is required; cannot be edited or doctored. Submit only once, as only one entry is required. Submission cut-off is at 11:59PM EST on Sunday, March 20, 2010. After the winner is drawn, I'll make a successive post, announcing the winner, and then we'll work out shipping and information. DO NOT post your email, address, or any other contact information in the comments. That's just dumb.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Motlcilk Attention *or* How I fear future raids with guys like this
Thanks to everyone who congo-rats'd my face off for Loremaster! I wanna date each and every single one of you. Really. I do. I'll get you a touch bit drinkedy and we can hold each other up at night. Mmm, Chambord. Right. On to the post.
Lemme preface this with a screenshot.
Having a Mechano-hog gets a reasonable amount of attention, particularly from low level players. I took that screenshot in Durotar, heading out to northeast Barrens for Loremastering (that sounds dirty) and Oxsam just randomly invites me as I drove by.
This isn't the first time.
I'm out in Tanaris, doing that Loremastering thing (I really like this new verb), disenchanting things, and, just as I get on my bike, I get invited to group. I've never been the kind of guy to deny an invite because I'm just some douche with better things to do; I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and see if they have something worth while to offer or if they ask for something reasonably easy. It's always nice to help, educate, or just hear out someone when the time calls for it. I also have a blog.
At the time, Hellbentaxis was level 52. I take a look around the area with a /who to the zone. Four other 80's, all in Gadgetzan. Why me? Eh. Let's see what you want.
I follow him, thinking, Probably just some asshole level 60 or something. This will be easy. He points to Bera Stonehammer.
Really? You don't know what “ganked” means? You poor, poor thing. I just want to rub your tummy and feed you cookies.
I continue:
Don't get me wrong, being a dick to you Alliance out there is fairly high on my WoW To Do list. Loremaster was above that, though. Though now that I am the Loremaster, expect a few post about my vacation in Goldshire soon. Kek. Where'd all this blood on the floor come from? This Inn is so nice! Look at the books and beds. Lawl. They think they're civilized. Silly monkeybots.
I can feel the pally looking me up and down, and not in the hot and sexy way.
The part where he goes “weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” is when he gets into my sidecar, if you couldn't tell. I drive out to the race track up north. He smalltalks.
Attempt 1: Was okay. You've almost got it. There's an “I” in there, somwhere.
Attempt 2: Better. You put the “I” in there this time. And really? “Like where?” I just want to hold your hand and show you Mickey Mouse. Take your picture next to him. You adorable little idiot.
I'm gonna buy you some formula and tuck you in, you sweet little baby.
I put him on my Friend's List. Charity cases hurt my heart. Expect an infomercial for “Newb Reach Out: a Charity.” For copper a day, you can sponsor this poor paladin. See as he stabs himself in the eye with gray trash drops.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
I am the Loremaster
I've been a Warlock close to around three years now, and each day I've played it's been nothing but a good time. I've had quite a lot of adventures and there are so many stories to tell, all of which will one day be logged here, but in the span of my WoW career, nothing has been as important as this.
I have a philosophy, taken from one of my favorite authors: “We owe it to ourselves to tell stories.” Nothing is more important to me than a good tale. I believe it wholeheartedly, that our society and the very existence of mankind depends on language, communication, and a history. Stories keep us together, make us believe in something greater than ourselves, and give us that which is most important of all: hope.
WoW, in a sense, becomes an extension of this philosophy. Sure, it's just a game, but in itself, it's a smaller version of an overall human society, and the same principles govern it. Human nature permeates through the simulated spells, bullets, and blades. So to find the humanity in our game, from day one of becoming Oath, I sought out quests.
The stories began innocently enough. I need these supplies. Can you deliver this message. We're being bullied and robbed.
Please, help us.
The more I ventured, the loftier the demands became. Rescue missions. Complex assembly. Long distances. Diplomatic representation. Political assassinations. Elaborate plans of warfare.
It's never been just my story, but all of ours.
As with any story, it will go on, and like all stories, it will end. Until that day, I'll do my best to represent this epic that took fifteen years to write. I will make it my duty to tell the tales that matter, IRL and in WoW, and in their telling, hopefully impart a sense of camaraderie with my fellow man.
I am Loremaster Oathbreaker. Have I got a story for you.
Thanks to Accio, Aiwendil, and Repello for being here, in person, for the final achievement, and, of course, thanks to Mooj and Scrubbs for being there in game. :)
Thursday, February 18, 2010
WoW.com Farms BlogAzeroth
That title sure as hell got you.
I can't say I'm the best at keeping up with things on the internet, but thanks to Velver keeping better tabs on this monstrous sea of words and pictures, I saw that today's Breakfast Topic at WoW.com was distinctly similar to my Shared Topic suggestion at BlogAzeroth.com, posted four days prior.
Now, considering I talk about WoW a lot with people and read much of the blogs, there has, at some point, been a post like this, mentioning meetings with other WoW players IRL, perhaps on someone else's blog months or years ago. I was hoping that, in my post to BlogAzeroth, the topic would be more at the forefront and would warrant another wonderful group activity in writing.
WoW.com was tipped off, perhaps not by anyone involved with BlogAzeroth (they didn't even cite BA at all), but I'd like to give the benefit of the doubt here and say it's all part of collective consciousness. You put an idea out there, it'll eventually spread like wildfire without word of mouth or visual musing, but just by the coincidental synapses of this silly fucking universe.
It's not the first time an idea of mine, or one that I planted somewhere, was manifested somewhere else by someone else. It comes with writing and batting ideas around.
I'm still going to write it. I guess I just would have liked to have seen the community have at it first. Yes, I am a bit prideful, Anne. Gimme a bit to calm down. Perhaps you should cite your sources so I don't have a fucking aneurysm. I REQUIRE MLA FORMAT.
I can't say I'm the best at keeping up with things on the internet, but thanks to Velver keeping better tabs on this monstrous sea of words and pictures, I saw that today's Breakfast Topic at WoW.com was distinctly similar to my Shared Topic suggestion at BlogAzeroth.com, posted four days prior.
Now, considering I talk about WoW a lot with people and read much of the blogs, there has, at some point, been a post like this, mentioning meetings with other WoW players IRL, perhaps on someone else's blog months or years ago. I was hoping that, in my post to BlogAzeroth, the topic would be more at the forefront and would warrant another wonderful group activity in writing.
WoW.com was tipped off, perhaps not by anyone involved with BlogAzeroth (they didn't even cite BA at all), but I'd like to give the benefit of the doubt here and say it's all part of collective consciousness. You put an idea out there, it'll eventually spread like wildfire without word of mouth or visual musing, but just by the coincidental synapses of this silly fucking universe.
It's not the first time an idea of mine, or one that I planted somewhere, was manifested somewhere else by someone else. It comes with writing and batting ideas around.
I'm still going to write it. I guess I just would have liked to have seen the community have at it first. Yes, I am a bit prideful, Anne. Gimme a bit to calm down. Perhaps you should cite your sources so I don't have a fucking aneurysm. I REQUIRE MLA FORMAT.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Screwing with Hunters: The Quantity Check
Yes, I'm that fucker who sells hunters only ONE arrow. No, not a stack, not a half stack, not even a stack of ten. Just the single arrow. And you pay 7g for each.
I'm not sorry. Check your stacks. QQ your pewpews. I'll keep on laughing, you silly hunters.
Random Screenshot:
I missed messing with gold spammers/farmers.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Selling the Hog: It doesn't really work
After obtaining my own Mechano-hog and finding that Primordial Saronite was the AH crack, making a few more hogs wasn't hard. I helped get my friends and fellow guildies, Scrubbs, Freing, and Mooj, get theirs, but once the cash started piling up, hell, why not, let's make an extra one and see if someone buys it.
Made a macro.
“/2 WTS [Mechano-hog], new bike smell, streamers sold separately, PST with offer.”
I thoroughly enjoy it when people would proffer me with their queries on Trade Chat itself when I said “PST.” You're all a bunch of shitty readers who don't understand commonly used acronyms. I hope you get a curable but severely unpleasant venereal disease. I hope it burns.
The whispers began innocently enough:
I honestly didn't care what I got for the damn thing, so long as I at least got some profit beyond the 12.5k I spent to make it. I made 18k my going rate if people asked, knowing well enough that it was somewhat high, but only trying to BS calculations to see if people would take the high sale and try to haggle down.
The following whisper is entertaining enough, and Jt makes a good point. I try hard-selling him on 18k, just to see if he'll budge. I honestly believe him more than I believe myself, but gold is gold, and there's snake oil in my blood.
Still, the offers came, and still, they got funnier.
And the winner, Bleedinggums:
Thanks Trade Chat and the peanuts for all their good humor! Perhaps I'll do something fun with the server and the extra Mechano-hog in the future. Maybe have a contest or something. We'll see.
Random screenshot:
Hydra, you cutie. Don't go AFK, it feels like rape when I'm loving up on you and you don't move or respond. Especially when four of us surround you.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Dungeon Deserter: I want your justification. No, I demand it.
Explain to me something, you self-righteous tool. What makes it okay for you to judge someone based on their appearance? How is it justified that, after one look, you can conceivably conclude that someone wearing less than epic quality items in this random dungeon you've queued up for is going to waste your precious time and you'll take a 15 minute debuff instead of dealing with what you believe would be an utter failure?
It's people like you that make elitism an undying trend.
I don't get it. We're in this together and we should ideally be helping each other out. How the fuck is it alright to take 15 minutes out of using the Dungeon Finder because you saw your DPS with two or three greens? Are you going to be the factor that is going to perpetuate the difficulty of getting gear? Are you letting the “ignorance is bliss” mentality supersede your inability to help your fellow man? If you're not going to help, you figure, “fuck it, I'll skip this shit,” wait for a while, then try again and again and again UNTIL you get what you believe will be a worthwhile group. How do you live with yourself?
Are you the sort of prick who raises a child, sees that they aren't the sharpest crayon in the box, and, rather than help them succeed academically, have another fucked-up flipper baby in an attempt to see if that one's smarter?
Are you the douchenozzle that goes to a store checkout lane with 26 items in the 10-items-or-less aisle where the new cashier is, then give them a hard time when they're not sure how to ring up your difficult purchases with all your asshole coupons and ridiculous loophole-scamming, store-policy-exploiting bullshit?
Are you the tremendous cunt who drives 25 miles over speed limit in the construction zone passed the teenager who just got her license yesterday, cutting her off, putting her in a panic because she wouldn't get out of your way in time, causing her to careen headlong into a cement mixer?
It's sickening to think that this sort of attitude can be reflected in actual society and not just in game. They should put a ramping debuff instead of a flat 15 minutes, like the respeccing penalty increase. Charge them gold, time, and actual money because Mister Impatient Monkey Fuck couldn't deal with the fact that some people need to reach the standardize caliber through help and genuine camaraderie. Give people the benefit of the doubt and they usually impress you.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Stupid Nubs: Fangore again
Fangore's e-peen is so huge, I had to make a post.
Scrubbs and I have gotten quite a money-making scheme going with the production of Mechano-hogs and selling them on the weekends to would-be bikers. I tried getting a head start on One yesterday and Fangore, the genius birthday girlfriend raping paper guy, chimes in. I didn't get screenshots, sorry, but what follows is just about what was said.
Fangore: Oneironaut, I've never heard of you or your guild before. (My guess, him trying to derail my trade channel exploits)
Me: And the internet has heard of you and your raping paper.
Peanut Gallery #1: LOLWUT
Fangore: wtf u takin bout
Me: http://www.dressedtocuddle.blogspot.com
Peanut Gallery #2: I'm not going to some site called dressed to cuddle, probably porno
Fangore: ur dumb
Me: seriously though, thanks for making me famous.
I take the effort to whisper him. That, I get a screenshot of.
Dude. Really? REALLY?! You arrogant prick.
Who gives two shits if you're supposedly one of the best warriors on the server? It's Farstriders. Last I checked, we're neither top server for raiding OR RPing. I don't think you get what I've done to you. There are people laughing about your degree of retarded in Australia, not the quality of your gameplay. Stroke your e-peen harder because your righteous arrogance will never suffice as vidication for the intellectual damage I have set forth to smite you with. You are target one and I am the F-Bomb. From now on, any chance I get, I am going to call out your dumpy ass for every single misgiving you commit on a public channel.
To reiterate, I am an asshole. I just found my dumbass to splatter my shit on.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Oath and the MLG 2009 World of Warcraft PC Pro Circuit
I had the amazing opportunity to attend the grand finals of the MLG 2009 World of Warcraft PC Pro Circuit in Orlando. I brought my good friend, Repello, out to the event. We learned quite a bit from the pro Arena players, even got to talk to a few of them.
The event itself was impressive; here, Repello and I thought we were just going to the WoW tourney, but it was actually the full Pro Circuit of MLG. There was a Dr. Pepper center kiosk giving away free cans of Dr. Pepper, Stride gum carts giving away free gum, rows of XBOX360's and PS3's playing Madden and Halo 3, and a vast myriad of gamers. WoW got a corner, small, but humble, and I'd like to think it had some of the more sophisticated members of the attending throng.
Okay, perhaps sophistication dwindled down to just me and Repello. The monkeys on the bench didn't know whether to cheer or stare dumbfounded at the screens. Despite this, we saw some great matches, great comps, and learned a lot.
First off, let's take a look at the arena.
The technical side of things. This is where commentary was held, updates to the live forums, and server maintenance occurred.
Lots of wires, fo sho.
Teams had their own sides, flanked with cameras to check out the action live. The people watching on were friends, family, or extreme fans. No, no girlfriends. There's no time for girlfriends when you're the best arena player.
Interesting thing about the rules: no addons or mods. You could bring your own keyboard and mouse, but aside from, the computers were provided, the characters were built on the custom server, and you could only use in-game script to change your UI.
This in mind, it really gives a sense of how “pro” a pro is. To play without addons is a bit foreign to me; I've always required some sort of healing assistant or notifier. Bells and whistles need to go off to help me react, and now that I see how they do it, it makes me consider my gameplay entirely.
Speaking of they, let's find out who they are.
SK:EG is an amalgamation of SK Gaming and Evil Geniuses, two teams who saw a lot of action during the entire circuit. They formed together, I think somewhere in during the Dallas finals, to have a fairly diverse group.
Pookz – Mage
Kollektiv – Shaman
Realz – Rogue
Azael – Warlock
Their overall comp was built on a contemporary idea of control. Enough control and you usually will win. Unfortunately for them, though, they were knocked out by Complexity Red and the Button Bashers, two teams who showed a great deal of promise.
Hearing the commentator, Igoaf, call them “The Koreans” over and over again was a bit unnerving; it's not like the Button Bashers were going to report back to Kim Jong-il about their wins and loses. They're from Seoul. Totally different.
Hiren – Rogue
OrangeMarmalade – Mage
NumberOne – Priest
RMP group, a comp that hasn't been used since the end of Season 5 professionally, but for the few months, OrangeMarmalade and company have cut a swath through the competition. Perhaps you remember the following clips from Germany:
And then an explination of his win:
I went to the tourney with these clips in mind, seeing the fights and being extremely intimidated by Orange. I was a bit let down when I saw them lose twice, but Orange was playing Frost spec more than his Arcane. Hiren was quite impressive too, unloading a ton of damage on targets through fights, but the pressure felt by the other teams, like Complexity Red, wore the Koreans down.
This team impressed me the most. With comps I haven't seen too often, I was really impressed by the amount of damage and control this team was able to dish out. To add more salt in the Sinister Strike, they even ran RMP at one point against verteran RMP group the Button Bashers, winning the matches and taking the lead to second place over the Koreans.
Venruki – Mage
Reckful – Rogue
Snutz – Warlock
Sodah – Priest
The amount of control and anticipation from this group was jaw-dropping impressive. They were also the loudest group at the tourney, Snutz bellowing out a battle cry at every chance he saw he was open for a kill requiring an assist. Eventually Reckful got in on it and so did Venruki.
The first day of the tournament was the all-star challenge. Team captains chose players not in their original team and created new combinations to fight in a double elimination round. With a chance to win an easy $1000, spectators were given a preview at players' skill and comps that we've never seen before. My favorite was two rogues and a priest. Damn was it terribad, but interesting to watch as a dynamic.
Oh look, it's the back of my head and half of Repello's face. Yea, that's our anemic looking group of spectators. The Halo 3 arena was much more impressive with high bleachers, a commentator's box, and large projection screens you could watch from the back of the convention hall. We had two flat-panel monitors. Score.
It smelled like wet dog on those benches. Delight. Dudes, take a shower. WoW less, clean yourself more.
Yo Snutz. You happy you're winning? You're a loud sonofabitch. Scary in the Sewers and Blade's Edge too. Back up with that Shadowfury. I'm your bro. We coo, we coo.
Sodah's looking mighty intense, but most healers usually have this face on them between fights. Makes me a bit apprehensive to heal a 3v3 with One.
I do that too sometimes.
Players would have to take 5 minutes on occasion to discuss strategy. WoW was the only game at the convention that had to do that, which makes me think: Gears of War 2, 4 guys, hardly any talking, just a lot of individual success overall to bring the team through with hardly any assisting, group camaraderie, or cooperation. How is it justifiable to give $75,000 as a grand prize for that? Hax.
Yea, not doing so good. Scream louder, that seems to be working for the other guys.
They should give mages battle shout.
Reckful wasn't nearly as loud as Snutz, but it did give the team morale and brought in the wins.
They weren't making words. They were just yelling.
QQ.
THEM FUCKIN ROUGES.
Complexity Black. The three guys who took it all. They were the most diverse group. Flexx was key in this, running a BE DK, Tauren Warrior as Prot, and most notably, his Enhancement Shaman. Along with the beast mastery hunter, Twix, out the door the wolves were out, the core hound loose, and bloodlust was popped. They targeted one DPS, downed him in half a breath, and moved on. Their comp was scary.
That free Dr. Pepper was awesome.
I felt that way too.
Should have been more, but despite that, they did get $5000 each. Congo rats to them. They move on to spank up some European ass in the international circuit.
What did I learn? Paladins and priests are the way to go for heals. Control is the name of the game. Beastcleave is scary.
And I'm going to be PVPing more.
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