NOTE FROM 4/22/2001 - This was originally written off the cuff following the minor skirmishes that resulted from the big bad infamous balance AC rant of 11/17/2000.  I forgot all about it, since I gave myself a headache trying to analyze more posts from this brilliant analyst and probably blotted it out of my memory in self-preservation.  Having just dug it up, I now present it, 5 months out of date, in the hopes that its irrelevance may further bore and chase away readers.

I have many detractors.  Using logical and convincing arguments such as "this uses potty language so you shouldn’t read it," many forum paladins have tried to convince me of the error of my ways.  Up until now, I have been in denial, trying to convince myself that careful research, hard data, strong inference, repeated questioning, a desire to improve a gaming environment, and the truth were enough to justify my delusions that maybe I was doing something that some people might find worthwhile, or could possibly make a change for the better.  That day is over, for I have met my match, a debater so powerful and so grounded in unshakable truth, backed up by encyclopaedic knowledge of just about everything, that I can no longer hold my head up and say, "I have an idea."

That man… is Sarec of Frostfell(Wall Licker).

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The grass was tall and waving around the small hollow where the Wild Man slept.  Even if someone happened to look into the shadow of the ancient oak that shaded him, they might see nothing more than the jumble of twigs, leaves, and other detrius he used as blanket and camouflage.  Indeed, even without the careful placement of his cover, it was difficult to tell where the dirt of the forest floor ended and the Wild Man began, so streaked with filth was his skin wherever it was not protected by equally dirty leathers and furs.  His breathing was silent even in sleep; years of hermitage had conditioned him so thoroughly that he was stealthy even while unconscious.  He never slept deeply, though (another survival skill), and so when the sounds of a war party crunching through the underbrush reached him, his eyes snapped open and he was instantly awake, even before their loud voices made their way to his ears.   Read the rest of this entry »

1. c4

"Is this really necessary Mu?"

The crisp morning air over the mountains south of Qalabar carried with it the scents of dead lugians and impending trouble.  In a small secluded vale, the forces of two equally matched armies faced off against each other… no more than sixteen to a side, standing in tense battle-lines, staring each other down as they waited for the first move.  This was a war that nobody wanted (to read about), yet it seemed inevitable.

Mu, in his position near the back of his formation, smoothed the silvery white mattekar robe that was the uniform of his entire army as he turned to regard Jin Lee, obstensibly referred to as his "Queen", yet in truth merely a highly accomplished mage who could not resist the idea of an "event".

"Yes… that foul Tegehel has gone too far this time," he opined.  "For many months has he maneuvered secretly behind the guise of ‘artist to the gods’, whilst simultaneously having dealings with the accursed Virindi, who ply him with whispered promises of power, riches, and really really cool java for his dark page."  Mu almost spit out this last part, threatening to clog the eyelets of his white heaume.  "Fah… his slow-loading web design ends here.  Now."

Jin peered across the heads of the single line of infantry before her at the night-black host of the enemy.  "We are far too evenly matched… should we wait for backup?"

"No… there is no time.  This shall not be any mere gangbang this day, but an operation of subtlety and planning."  He raised his head to shout orders… "Infantry advance!"

But the infantry could not move, and the reason became clear soon enough as purple lights swirled about them.  Indeed, with the added pressure of approximately 723 lugian-cheesing idiots and a crowd of people doing nothing at the archmage’s tower, the dreaded portal storm threatened to consume them all.  "We must evacuate!" cried the Knight of the King.

"Stay those recall spells," ordered Mu, as he contemplated the situation.  "We shall have to move slowly towards our objective, lest we all be lagged out at a bad moment.  Everyone, you shall heed my instructions and otherwise hold your positions.  The forces of foul Tegehel shall not excape us this day!"

A lone infantryman in the front lines, his silifi glistening in the dawn, sighed with relief.  As one who was foolish enough to concentrate on melee, his death would have surely been swift should they be ordered to attack en masse, buying perhaps a spare second or two for the mages and archers behind him.  In his flanking position, directly in front of the master archer the Bishop of the Dark Squares, surely he would be spared the initial conflict…

"You there, axe guy, advance!"

The melee fighter gulped as Jin Lee turned to Mu.  "The English Opening?  That’s very… hypermodern… of you…" she quipped, barely restraining her original comment of "bloody stupid".  "Why not send in that fool with the cestus?" she remarked, indicating an obviously relieved soldier standing directly in front of the monarch.

"Uh… well, in a conflict such as this I feel we should be flanking and confusing the enemy, not merely charging straight ahead into a head to head battle."  explained Mu.

"Right.  You want to keep yourself safe," she snorted.  "Some King."

Mu ignored her as he repeated his order, sending the resigned axeman two steps forward to meet his fate, a mere pawn in this war…

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Where have I been?  Or more specifically, where have I not been?  The second question is easier to answer… I’ve not been playing AC.

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The level of reading comprehension amongst the gaming public is remarkable in its selectiveness.  I now wish to cut my eyes out with a broken bottle after reading various dev-boardie posts, even if they seem to sorta back my argument in some strange way.  After suffering through some forum posts made by chowderheads on many different forums (cringe), I would like to dispell some myths about the meaning of the rant below.

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Once upon a time in a land we still all live in…all classes were balanced in ability, except for those poor few who selected the templates Turbine cruelly provided for us. There existed a large gap in understanding of how the game worked between the mages, who were familiar with all the available spells, the archers who for the most part looked for places to perch, and the meleers who grabbed a weapon and a shield and whacked away at things paying no attention to the magic system at all. Due to their greater understanding of the game mathematics, the mages quickly learned to master the game. Turbine mistakenly identified this as a game imbalance rather than a knowledge imbalance between the classes. Thus the year of nonstop mage nerfing began. We end the year with all modern meleers/archers having three schools of magic (sometimes life specialized). The only difference between the classes is their starting attributes, war magic, and the ability of melee to do 3-5 times the damage of a mage in the same amount of time. This has lead to a huge influx of meleers on the level 1-80 in a month program due to the speed with which meleers can dispatch tuskers. For anyone that feels my views are biased, I’ve built a level 57 archer, a level 74 mage, a level 80 archer, a level 66 melee, and a dozen other mage/melee/archer hybrids. The level 66 melee can earn experience faster than any of my previous characters, and this is all due to Turbine’s misguided efforts to buff melee while nerfing mages.

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This will no doubt turn out to be one of those long-winded sorta pieces that nobody reads, as opposed to the flash and porno nonsense everyone seems to enjoy, so be warned. 

It is my firm belief that the dev team has finally lost touch.

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They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  I find this horribly sexist and would like it removed from the English vernacular, and will make a big fucking deal about it like some losers who get all uptight about a red dress in a video game, as it offends their insecurititties.  It is, in fact, the way to anyone’s heart, especially women’s, and mastery of the culinary arts can get you more in the trim department than a deep pile shag carpet and a provocatively placed cigar in your own private Oval Office.  Observe now as your hero wins over the heart and panties of one of the most powerful dangerous nicest-looking-in-a-red-dress monarchs in Asheron’s Call.

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Recently I’ve been listening to Myscha’s subway portal spammer rant over and over a lot.  It’s really funny, but the thing I took out of it with the greatest meaning for me is the term, "choad," and its more exclamatory form, "fucking choad".

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A blast of chill, rainy air entered the shop as the door opened, yet nobody seemed to notice. The loiterers stood around aimlessly, occasionally chatting to those next to them. The “mages” stood still in front of the herbalist, staring into space, occasionally mixing a new formula seemingly out of thin air and launching it at someone else (without the latter’s consent), then went back to their staring. And those who were there to purchase goods did so with utmost expedience, running inside at full tilt, roughly barking their orders at the jaded shopkeep while thrusting notes at her, and running off as soon as they had their goods in hand.

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