I’m Too Poor To Pay Attention!

We’re going to take the Center Keep.

The Center Keep, for those of you uninitiated, is the sole goal in the Battlegrounds in Dark Age of Camelot. Sure, there’s gank squads and bridge battles, and even some Portal Keep camping, I ashamedly admit. But when all is said and done, it’s the Center Keep that lies in the middle of the Battlegrounds that you want to get. Because that’s where the vats of Ben & Jerry’s are. Okay, that’s a lie. The truth is, it’s there, so for no other reason, everyone wants it.

For the most part, it’s a highly contested location. At least on Perc. The other servers might stay stagnant for months, what do I know. I just know that on our server, that thing bounces back and forth between the foul stinky Mids and us noble and dead secksay Albs. The Hibs only real purpose is to show up when one of us is laying seige to the other and stab us in our backs and make us cry. To my knowledge, they’ve never held that thing.

But anywhoots, last night I signed out in the middle of the Center Keep, which Albion rightly controlled. We had to control it, see – God sent one of our leaders a cloud that looked JUST LIKE a hippopotaumus, signifying by divine right that WE were to control it. The Mids, however, are evil godless heathens. Well, no, that’s not right – they’ve actually got about a billion gods. But they’re not OUR God, therefore we’re completely justified in annexing their land, killing their people and installing a puppet government. Whoops – no, wait, sorry, that’s America, my mistake! (Look kids, political humor!)

Anyway, I wake up today and realize either Albion women have gotten much, much uglier, or I was surrounded by Trolls. After a few smacks with a hammer or two, I learned that it was indeed trolls.

So I go back to the bindstone, then to the portal keep, and here I am on the Battlegrounds again. There’s quite a sizeable force here, too. Not nearly as many enough to take all those Mids, but if I told them that, then they wouldn’t try, and where’s the fun in that? I couldn’t be blamed for anyone’s death if that happened.

Death says, “Oh yes you could.”

Yeah, okay, so maybe I should warn them. I tried to, even as they recruited me into a group. Everyone’s happy to have me and my handy PBT along, never mind the fact that I warn them repeatedly we’re all going to die. I even vomited some pea soup and spun my head around, but STILL they thought I was just kidding. Sigh. I dunno how the Linda Blair ever convinced people to listen to her. Maybe if I’d made the keep walls bleed or something.

So there we go, charging off. We get to the keep and there’s already a pretty good-sized group there. But even being generous, I think the Mids had us by at least a half-dozen. But hey – what’s the Battlegrounds without a little bit of Death mixed in for fun, right?

Death says, “Right!”

So we set up camp. My job was, as always, to keep up PBT (pulsing blade turn – a ‘skin’ spell that absorbs attacks and renews every few seconds, for the n00bs) and to keep damage adds and speed buffs going. A job that’s almost exciting as listening to Yellow Rat Bastard complain about… well, about anything, really. Mostly that’s what I do out there. I fire up PBT, slap my buffs around, and then sit down and chat back and forth with YRB about how much we hate everything.

Today didn’t seem to be any different. At least at first. But THEN I noticed that the Mids were not only failing to follow directions, they were being downright UNCOOPERATIVE! Instead of sitting inside the keep waiting for us to break in and kill them all, they came OUTSIDE the keep and were killing US! When did I notice this? Oh, about two minutes after I was dead.

Yeah, I’m helpful. See, I had switched off the main channel ’cause there was too much chatting going on, and it was really interfering with YRB’s and my deep, philosophical discussions:

Yates sends, “So should I smoke the cigarette first, and THEN get a cup of coffee, or get the coffee first?” to you.
You send, “Hrmm…how about START the coffee brewing, and while it’s brewing, then smoke your cigarette?” to Yates.
Yates sends, “Phew…that’s a pretty daring plan.” to you.
You send, “Well, I’m a daring…whoops, wait a sec, some troll wants my attention. Whoops. He killed me. Why didn’t anyone tell me the Mids came out of the keep?” to Yates.

I flip back to the main channel and there’s about fifty lines of people screaming at me to look out, run for it, etc, etc.  Whoops indeed. Time to whip out my favorite excuse!

You say, “Can’t….type…lagging…so…much…can…barely…move…”
Smeese says, “Um, just because you’re lagging doesn’t mean you type slow. We know you weren’t paying attention.”
You say, “That’s a lie! Why would you say such a thing?!!?”
Smeese says, “Because of the twelve minutes those trolls spent running circles around you, laughing and pointing before they attacked you! You didn’t even stand up!”
You say, “Ah – see, that was my trap! And they FELL FOR IT!”
Smeese says, “…”

Yeah, I’m brilliant at excuses. If any of you school kids out there need one of those notes from your parents, you just let me know. I write GREAT sick notes – and remember, it’s L-E-P-R-O-S-Y. If you spell it wrong, sometimes the teachers catch on…

Fun With Poison Glands!

So I’m having a lot more luck. It seems that having a friend that actually knows what the hell they’re doing makes a world of difference.

For example, my new buddy Cairn Eldwin informed me that it was NOT a good idea to try and stab CopBots in the crotch with my stilletto, as apparently they’re a billion times more powerful than me and at best I could only chip their paint before they crushed my skull and set me on fire. Be that as it may, I still feel confident that there’s a LOT of CopBots in the city with crotches not as shiny and perfect as some of their friends, know what I mean?

One of the very helpful clues he gave me was what to do with all these various spider bits I seem to be collecting in the sewers. It seems that some of the pieces parts can be sold for cash, which can then be used to buy myself bigger and shinier guns! And we like guns, don’t we? The source of this “Cash For Chitins” is the pawn shop, Yo’s. A seedy place, but the clerk (not Dante, said to say – not even Randal) was full of good advice. He offered to buy any pieces parts off the spiders, and advised me to eat any meat they drop to gain health instead of using up my valuable (and expensive!) healing kit.

Except we never really agreed on what the term ‘meat’ means. To me, ‘meat’ is any part you can chew through. Being a regular consumer of beef jerky (Lancaster’s finest, to boot), I’m able to chew through anything short of titanium. As you can see below, this led to a few problems…

Luckily for me, this wasn’t any problem that a quick bout of Death couldn’t clear up. A few taser shots to the face and I was ready again for my adventures.

I’m really digging Neocron. The hints they’ve made about the future of hackers (no no, that’s a skillset in the game, I’m not talking about Gear- or Macro-happy choads) have me really excited. If you wanna try it out, it’s got SIX FREE WEEKS that come with it! Pretty damn hawt, if you ask me. Of course, I’m on week two already and I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing… However, I DO know that just because a sewer says it’s a “Level 1” area doesn’t mean there’s not some damn killer plant that puts Little Shop of Horror to shame.

Consider yourself warned!

Your Dev Team and My Dev Team, Aego Aego Aegis…

Yeah, I was an Advocate. I even went on to become a Sentinel, too, although they canned the program before I fully got my ‘wings’ and was able to solo. Frightening thought, huh? The Kwip that everyone knows is a blathering idiot actually spent time helping people new to the game learn how to play? Mwuah hah hah – and you wonder why so many people were jumping off of bridges in Rithwic…

But now that the aegis has made a comeback, it has sparked more controversy than a well-endowed snow woman. We’ve got all sides of the debate pretty well covered: rabid fanatics who insist that to so much as mention the word ‘aegis’ is a mortal insult and they must duel you to the death to maintain their honor. And blindingly stupid ass-bandits who, no matter how many times they’re told, insist on reciting the story THAT DEFINITELY HAPPENED TO THEM when the Advocate teleported into the house they were waiting for and stole it… never mind the fact that Advocates never had the power to teleport… and were gone before housing was introduced…

But enough of me brandishing dangerous logic! Let us get in to the heart of the matter: will the re-introduction of the aegis cause me to go off on a rabid, disjointed and obnoxious rant! Well… yes, actually.

Okay, okay, that’s a bit of a lie. When I first heard about the aegis being back, my initial response was, “Hrm…” But now that I’ve had some time to think it over, I actually think it’s pretty cool. The aegis DID look damn cool. And it brought back TONS of memories for me – there’s more stories involved in me giving advice to people than you could possibly believe. So when I started reading about the quest, it really brought back a lot of memories about not only my own application and learning process to become an advocate, but the people I met along the way.

Yeah, once upon a time, I knew how to play the game. And it was pretty cool, let me tell you. The OLT (On-Line Team) was just such a cool bunch of froods. We had a ton of fun – I got to know a lot of people that have almost as twisted a sense of humor as I have. Almost.

And more than that, it felt good to be helping people out. Being able to provide someone with an answer about some wacky problem they were having with their interface or their paper doll not showing up or what have you – it was just fun to help people out. Did we exploit? Exploit what? Sorry, you must have us confused with people that had powers. The only plus we had was a chat channel and I vividly remember that being STRICTLY patrolled for game-related discussions – info sharing that could be seen as ‘exploiting the system’ – which was not allowed. I saw people get booted for violations. I don’t know who these jerkasses were that ruined the impression everyone seems to have of the OLT – well, no, I know some of them – but to say that was the way that most – hell, even a slight majority – of the OLT behaved is just wrong. Everyone loves to dwell on the bad guys, but that’s not even close to being realistic. The facts were, we were there to help, putting in our time for no more thanks than the feeling of doing something good.

And you know what? That was enough for me. When the Advocate program ended, I was sad that it ended – I think most people saw that was going to happen. But I was sad that there were so many bad feelings left over. So many people really knocked themselves out to be as helpful and as knowledgeable as they could be to help their peers, and they came away feeling they had been crapped on. Granted, that was probably unavoidable with the way things had to be ended, but I wish some people had made an effort to step forward and say, “Hey, we’re really sorry we had to do this. We hope you understand – can’t we all just get along?”

Some people did that, some people didn’t, yadda yadda. There were (and still are) a lot of hurt feelings about the matter and feelings of resentment by people that felt they were ‘left out.’ Hell, I’ve still got my OLT T-shirt. Oh yeah, that was another uber perk – those of us on the team at a certain point got free AC tshirts. SECKSAY AC t-shirts. That’s right, be jealous! Mwuah-ha-ha! If that makes you feel left out, sorry. But I’m feeling left out that Gillian Anderson’s not bringing me a pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie right now, so we all have our spoons to bear, don’t we?

Blah. All this talking, and I never really made a point. I bounced back and forth between sides without coming down very solidly on one or the other, didn’t I? Well…that’s because that’s how I feel. I really, really empathize with the people whose feelings were hurt by the way the matter ended. But I also see it as a time past; we have our statue, and more importantly, we have our memories. I will never, ever, EVER forget WO Arbalister’s puns. No matter how much therapy I undergo…

Now…having said that… People that were never an Advocate and who feel justified in telling the Advocates how they should feel about this matter: piss off. Sorry, I tried to think of a better way to put it, but your obnoxiousness galls me. And then you have the audacity to accuse them of being arrogant? Good gravy. Get over yourselves. The Advocates busted their ass to help their fellows. You were the sort of idiotic whiners that insisted we tell you how to complete quests or other such dumb-ass comments. Advocates on Darktide, indeed. How about before you go making asinine accusations you check your facts a bit?

I guess what I would like to say is in three parts: 1) Thank you, Turbine, for bringing back the Aegis. It really made me laugh when I saw it – I thought I was seeing an ancient screenshot or something! What a wonderful stream of great memories you brought back. 2) MS, I know there’s some hard feelings by some of the ex-OLT. But I’d like to say, thank you for giving us the opportunity to feel useful and the ability to help our peers in a way that let us take a great deal of pride in our efforts. And finally, 3) Turbine and/or MS (whoever makes such a call), could you put the Advocates lore back in? It really was a neat part of the game. Let it be over, let it only be a memory, let those of us that served feel elitist, let those who resent our feelings call us the same, whatever – but let it be. It was a great part of the lore, and we miss it. Please bring it back.

Sincerely,
Advocate Wong Ku-Luc
Sentinel Wu
Bunny Master Kwip

How To Tell If You’re In Trouble

I want Realm Points.

For those of you not familiar with the concept, Realm Points (RPs) are the reward for killing someone of the opposing realm. When you kill someone of the opposing realm, providing they haven’t been killed lately, you get a number of realm points based on the other person’s total of realm points. Or something. I dunno. You can then use those RPs to buy Realm Abilities. Delicious Realm Abilities! Yum!

All I know is that YRB (aka Yellow Rat Bastard, aka Yates Bast) is like the 2nd ranked Wizzie on Perc. He so much as breaks wind and he gets like a billion RPs. So of course I want to group with him. The problem with that is two-fold: 1) he’s 50th lvl to my 35th, so while he thinks nothing of charging through those little goblin bastiches, they will all immediately turn and drop-kick me. And 2) he’s a Bastard.

Oh, it seems like these are things that could be easily overlooked. But you have to remember who you’re dealing with here – I’m not someone who partakes in such silly maneuvers like “going around” and “sprinting”. My usual reaction to a mob is to stare at it as I run past and wonder if it will kill me.

YRB, being said bastard, will charge blindly by things. Case in point: we’re running around the frontiers when he decides he wants to run over to his guild’s keep. I tag along, because what the heck else am I going to do out there? But sure enough, he charges straight through a large group of trees that are all purple to me.

Did you ever see Poltergeist? Remember that part where the tree busted in the window and ate the kid? Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened. Except MY parents didn’t run in to rescue me. Hrmph. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m running, screaming bloody murder, getting the crap kicked out of me and Yates replies with, “Oh.”

Now we all know he is a bastard. So when he does something completely evil – for example, leading me into a gang of about a dozen purple trees – it is to be expected. That’s if he does it on PURPOSE. But he does this stuff without thinking about it! It’s like I don’t even register to him! Oooooh, I hate that. And then he just assumes whatever HE can run blindly through, I should be able to do, too!

A prime example of this: one night, I’m tagging along, trying my best to help out earning RPs defend the realm, when we get word reaches us that one of the keeps is under attack by a large Mid force. So we decide we’re going to go help them. There’s YRB in all his 50th lvl glory, four of his Armsmen friends lvl 49-50, and me. In my lvl 35 fecklessness.

I can make the party run fast. Wheeeee!

Yup, that’s about the best I can do.  But that’s at least something, so I’m glad to chug along and try and help out. But now we’re charging into a keep that’s surrounded by a Mid army.

For anyone that missed that, there’s a MID ARMY. SURROUNDING THE KEEP WE ARE RUNNING TO. Everyone got that? Any questions? We’re not running towards some secret door, we’re not going to sneak around and scout it out. WE’RE GOING TO RUN INTO THE MIDDLE OF A MID ARMY. The M-I-D-D-L-E of the A-R-M-Y. Hello?

Apparently, I’m the only one that doesn’t like this idea. They’re all discussing what side of the keep to approach from. I’m like, “Uh….how about from another keep. Like ONE WITHOUT AN ARMY SURROUNDING IT!”

But nobody listens to me. So we come charging up the hill, and sure enough, there’s a bazillion Mids playing grab-ass outside the gates. Yates runs up, tags the gatekeeper, gets hit with maybe one or two spells, an arrow or three and a couple pot shots. And he’s in. Ditto everyone else in the party.

And then it’s MY turn. I run TOWARDS the gate, but then I start lagging so bad, instead of running to the gate, I try and run up the back of a troll. He promptly slaps my ass and steps on my throat.

Great mission. This was a brilliant plan.

“Well, Kwip, if you’re so crabby about it, why do you keep following YRB around?”

Well. The RPs, of course. I mean, even dying, I’m getting bunches of points along the way… Soon, Mr. Siege Bolt, soon you shall be MINE!

Thank You, Please Drive Thru…

Doo dee doo, so after a rather sad farewell, don’t I jump right back where I left off to soak up more attention…

I TOLD you guys I wasn’t quitting. Just ’cause I’m not writing at WCoD don’t mean I’m not gonna be roxoring some lifestones here, buddy. But just when I think that people have FINALLY understood the danger I pose to my fellow Derethians, I get things like this happening:

Alakaii tells you, “Hey dude. What’re you up to?”
You tell Alakaii, “GAAAAH! Um, dying. What else?”
Alakaii tells you, “LOL. Wanna go do something?
You tell Alakaii, “Sure. So long as it doesn’t involve me taking candy from you…”

Huh. Well, someone wants to adventure with me. That should be fun.

Death says, “For whom? You’re going to get them killed, you realize?”
You say, “Oh no I’m not! This time I’ll be CAREFUL!”
Death raises an eyebrow.
You say, “Quit that! You don’t have eyebrows!”
Death raises a skullbone.
You say, “Err…never mind, that’s gross. Go back to raising an eyebrow…”

Hey man, HOW MANY TIMES have I written about disaster befalling any party I join up with? It’s not MY fault if people think that I’m kidding, right?

Death raises a skullbone.
You say, “Dammit, I thought I told you to stop that…”

So here’s this kid, Alakaii, all convinced that because he’s lvl 77 to my lvl 22nd, he’s going to be able to keep me alive. Well, it certainly SOUNDS viable, right? I mean, come on, he’s more than triple my level! If you’re grouped with someone that’s TRIPLE your level, it should be impossible to die.

Death says, “Is that a challenge? Are you calling me out?”

Sigh. Look, it wasn’t MY idea, okay? I went into the group of Hollow Minions JUST to see what they were up to! How was I supposed to know they would attack us? It’s not MY fault he followed me, right?

Kwip says, “Alakaii, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”
Alakaii says, “What the hell was that? How did I die? That… that’s impossible…”
Death says, “Oh no, I assure you, it was QUITE possible.”

It’s always so embarrassing. Some poor, dissillusioned soul thinks they’re capable of helping me, and what happens?

Death says, “WE PAR-TAY!”
You say, “Quiet, slut!”

But then it gets worse. Well, no, it just gets disgusting. Have you been to these Marketplaces? There’s no chickens! C’mon, I’ve seen like every single fantasy movie out there. From Dungeons & Dragons to actual GOOD fantasy movies (Conan – the first one, not that crap sequel), EVERY MARKET HAS CHICKENS RUNNING AROUND.

Okay, I’m willing to forgive that, alright? I understand that this is a new setup, maybe the chickens still haven’t come out of whatever hidey hole they’ve been in. So I’m taking in the sites, all gracious-like, and what do I come across…

A zombie.

Oh ho ho – not just any zombie! A zombie VENDOR! And do you know what he was selling, boys and girls? Any idea what this decaying pile of flesh, complete with squirming bits falling off of him and real smell-o-matic odor?

HE WAS SELLING FOOD!

What the HELL goes through people’s minds when they hire these guys? I mean, honestly, don’t get me wrong – I’m ALL FOR equal opportunity. But we’re talking about FOOOOOOOD. What were you thinking? This isn’t someone from a foreign land that maybe uses a bit too much hot pepper in their cooking! This is something that CRAWLED OUT OF A PERFECTLY GOOD GRAVE! And they didn’t bring their entire selves along, either! There’s half their body back down there!

This is a creature that has bits dripping off of them! And you’re going to hire them as a short-order cook? HELLO! Do you have any idea what the Derethian Board of Health would DO to you if they caught you doing this? And never mind that – who the heck buys FOOD from a ZOMBIE! I don’t care if the guys got a BILLION points in cooking! HE’S A ZOMBIE! There’s pieces dripping off of him! Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

It really wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that Alakaii chose that moment to stand next to me. Hey dude, I’m sorry about your sollerets, okay? I TOLD you it wasn’t my fault! I offered to get them cleaned for you!

Although at this market, I shoulda just offered them up as a new exciting entree…

How To Be Your Best Friend

Yes, I thought all my worries were over.

See, now that Anson is spending more time in AC1, he’s been letting me use his DAoC account. You know what this means? Yeah, I thought ‘buff-bot’ at first, too.

But now, after a harrowing, gut-wrenching experience, I see I am a wiser man. I now know that if I attempt to trust myself to do something, I will invariably destroy myself. I think it all stems from some really deep-seated self-hatred. Ever since I realized I will NEVER be able to be like Mike, well, my life’s been in shambles. And this self-hatred now has an outlet.

For those of you that don’t know, the way buff-bots work is this: usually they’re a class that has some sort of buffing ability – in this instance, I chose a cleric, as he’d be able to keep me healed in a fight. As he’s my level, we would then split the xp, and everyone would go home, happy and levelled. Since DAoC allows you to have a number of ‘hot-keys’ that you can map to such useful commands as ‘follow’ and ‘heal’ and the like, it seems like simplicity itself to run a bot. And if there’s anyone simpler than me, I’ve yet to meet them.

See, that’s what I thought. In reality, though, this was just another way for my subconcious to express it’s extreme hatred for me. Here’s the scene: I have my newb infiltrator logged in on my machine. On Kwipette’s machine, right next to mine, I have my cleric (a newb of comparable level) logged in. All that is required to do on this machine is for me to reach over – I don’t even have to look! – and hit the ‘1’ key. That’s it. No complicated moves, no tricky shifting focus from one computer to the other. Just reach over, hit the 1, and my infiltrator can continue ninja-ing, secure in his health boost.

That’s the theory. In actual practice, it goes something like this:

Some people think I exaggerate, but I assure you: if -I- go down, then by hell and highwater, my subconcious goes down with me! None of this ‘let him live so he can rez me’ crap! That’s for the weak!

Somehow, my subconcious manages to re-map the location in my brain of where Kwipette’s ‘1’ button is on her keyboard to where the button for sit down is, the button for quit, the button for run around like an idiot screaming at the top of your lungs… It’s either that, or there is a very small, very precise wormhole right over the ‘1’ key on her keyboard. And apparently it only appears when I’m having my ass rocked.

Sigh.

Of course, my subconcious hatred of myself WOULD explain all those dreams I’ve been having lately where I go to eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and the only thing in the freezer is a pint of non-fat yogurt. VANILLA yogurt.

*shudder*

And Now A Test Of Our Emergency Butt-Kicking System

 Okay, so I’ve been lax in exploring that Vesayen Island. Truth is, the only island I’ve explored at all has been Dereth. I haven’t checked out ANY of the new islands other than to learn that I tend to die there really quickly. But since I’ve been trying to learn some more to be a better guide to Anson, I’ve been trying to re-fresh my knowledge.

Death says, “Wait a sec – didn’t Anson already pass your level?”
You say, “Shut yer blathering dillhole!”

See, the problem is that I’m still operating on the mentality from like, what, three years ago? Like, release-time? I still have it in my rather foolish mind that 43 is a perfectly respectable level. I constantly get mauled by PKers, but I don’t think that would matter if I was 126th, you know? I’m just NOT good at fighting. I accept that much in the same way that I accept pants go on the OUTSIDE of underwear and being kicked in the groin is a bad thing. It’s not complex, it’s not frustrating, it’s just one of those things.

But I’m not really used to monsters being bad asses. Oh, sure, I know that if I strut on down to an Olthoi Lair and the middle of some monkeys I’m going to be in a world of hurt. BUT – if I’m out running around, I don’t really expect to run into many problems. Especially when nothing hides on the radar anymore!

I think it’s Turbine’s fault, really. Look, if you introduce a new breed of monster like, for example, a new sort of Shallows Shark, then you need to name it according to it’s power level. I mean, “Shallows Slayer” sounds like something pretty scary, right? Like if I was running around, and I saw one, I’d be like – “Hey, watch out, that critter over there might SLAY you!” Pretty logical conclusion, right?

So therefore, at some later date down the road, when I was running around, and I saw something called a “Shallows Devourer,” I think of the garbage disposal critter in the Flintstones – you know, that cute pig thing that lived under their sink and DEVOURED all their trash? Well, let me just tell you, this thing should be named “Shallows DestroyEveryFrigginThingInItsPath.” Because that’s exactly what it did. And guess who was in it’s path?

Hey, I know I’m in trouble if I encounter a bunch of bad-ass monsters. So I usually try and skirt around them. But come on – a shallows shark? How many of them have I killed since I hit 20th level? 10? 20? At least! And it’s not like I run around nekkid – I’ve got a set of LSA, for Gord’s sake! And I cast level 4 buffs on myself! So you’re not talking to Joe Newb here, buddy. I’m a VETERAN. I have single-handedly died to almost every lifeform on the face of Dereth.

When I spot something chasing after me, I can decide within fifteen seconds whether or not I’m going to die. Usually because in fifteen seconds I’m either dead or away from the monster…

So as I run my little scouting mission today, I notice this blip coming after me. I have a look behind me using my uber camera panning skills (yeah, that’s right – I may suck at everything else in this game, but DAMN can I swing that camera around! Mostly it comes from a long existence of “who was that who just shot me?”). What do I see? Some shallows critter! Do I worry? Noooooooooooooooo! I’ve killed plenty of these guys in my time, why should I worry?

Shallows Devourer gores you for 98 points of damage!
Shallows Devourer smites you so hard the lifestone flinches!
Death says, “Woah, hey, that even surprised ME!”

Good gravy! Look, I’m all for putting in new monsters to challenge the people that are getting up in the levels, but how about a better warning system? Like, can’t we strap flashing lights and sirens on them? Or couldn’t they have a little bit better AI – if they KNOW they can kick your butt, can’t we make them giggle and wave at you when you get near? I mean, I tend to run right by Lugians. But if I see one standing there giggling and waving at me, you can bet I’m going to give it a WIIIIIIIIIIIIDE pass.

Especially if it starts blowing kisses. I hate it when the monsters do that.

Welcome… To Neopunkthunderdomecron

Welp, welcome to the fascinating new world of Neocron. A few men enter. One man leaves. Well, okay, not THIS one man. This one man’s busy getting his ass kicked by cockroaches. Yeah, you heard me: cockroaches. Actually, I should say COCKROACH. Singular. Like, by itself.

Yeah. This game is not newb-friendly. Neocron is dark, dark, dark. It is a gritty, cyberpunk-ish in-your-face DT-on-crack atmosphere. I stepped out of the apartment I spawned in and five minutes later was being chased by a guy with a baseball bat. Well…when I say ‘chased’ I mean ‘having the crap kicked out of me.’

And I LOVE this game.

It might just be that it’s a whole new game and whatnot, and it might just be that I’m desperate for a good cyberpunk game, but I’m having a blast. I have NO clue what the hell I’m doing. So far, my sole purpose involves running away from people with bats (the people with guns shoot me before I get a chance to run). But really, apart from my first encounter, I haven’t had much of a problem with newb gankers. I have, however, been having problems with NPCs. Like, serious attitude problems.

I guess I’m just spoiled by places like Dereth and Camelot where the rudest NPC you might have to deal with is a drunk that tells you to go away. Well, I mean, besides the ones that attack you. But in Neocron, the NPCs there have basically just said, “Hey, we know who these players are, but you know what? F them. WE don’t need them. THEY are the ones asking us for jobs, for raw materials – F them, I say!”

For example, observer the scene below. Yes, that is our real conversation. Well, except for the end where I leap over the desk and commenced introducing him to my friends Left Boot and Right Boot, aka the Boot Brothers.

Anyway, I stumble into this office. The gentleman sitting is the head of the company I work for. I’m the cool guy in shades & Don Johnson-wannabe facial hair. I come in, humbly seeking a mission. This is our conversation:


Yes, this is a real dialogue I had.
“Oooooooof!!!” added for effect, though.
Because Kwipette
thought he was polishing my shoes.

I mean, good gravy, I’ve been PK’d more politely than this. Call me crazy, but if I’m Mr. Important CEO guy, then I would lock my door! It would be different if I snuck into his office or something. You know, maybe came in, stole some pens, urniated on his desk, something to deserve the h8. Hey, I’ve seen that hidden camera video where that crazy chick comes in and pees on her bosses chair. If I did that, then I certainly deserve to be treated rudely. Well, actually, I’d deserve to be punched in the throat, but I digress.

Look, all I’m saying here is that if we want to rebuild this devestated civilization, can’t we just be a tad bit kinder to each other? You know, you don’t mouth off to me, and I won’t stand on your throat? I think that’s a fair compromise.