Oh, sure – like I can not go play in Camelot NOW. As if once I know how incredibly cool in person everyone in my guild is, I could just be satisfied with saying hi to them occasionally. Like that would work.
No, I’m afraid I had to full-on get back to my little Necro self. Even if it meant putting up with other necro pets.
See, the problem here is that I’m on my second character, while everyone else in the guild is on their three-hundred and twenty-fifth. I don’t know if it’s because they are so uber…
Death says, “Or because you suck so badly…”
Precisely. But the long and the short is, they are very good at taking brand-spanking new character and shortly getting them far, far above my second character, which I’ve been playing since Shrouded Isles came out and have only managed to reach level 14 with…sigh.
What’s really frustrating is that I was one of the (if not THE) first ones in our guild to try out Necros. So it’s only fitting that after several months, I’ve been lapped about TWENTY times by Necros that are – oh, let’s say, one WEEK old?
Yeah, it’s THAT confident of a feeling, let me tell you. It went from “Hey Kwip, how do you like Necros?” to “Hey Kwip, why on EARTH did you spec Painworking?” practically overnight.
And that’s not the worst of it. Consider this: I’ve had the same level pet (a reanimated servant I like to refer to as “Smeese” or “Dingleberry” or sometimes even “No You Stupid Bastich”) for about six months now. Everyone else has moved on to the next more super powerful pet. So that means that every time we get together as a group, I never hear the end of it.
It’s like this: remember how, when you were a poor kid growing up in the suburbs and all the other kids had Transformers, but you had those suckwad PLASTIC – er, well, CHEAPER plastic toys? The ones that transformed from a car into a piece of unrecognizable plastic? And then never transformed back again? Remember how much you whined and griped at your parents about not having REAL toys, until they took away even the plastic lump, and then you were left with a SOCKformer, which would transform from a sock to a sock puppet?
Well, if you didn’t experience that, I’m probably jealous of you anyway, so we’ll just skip over that piece. But that should give you an idea of what sort of atmosphere I descend into any time I try and get something done with other Necros (and their servants) around…
And what’s up with calling these guys ‘servants,’ anyway? Who came up with that? They’re not servants! They can’t pick up after you, they DON’T bring you food – ewww, and if they DO, then there’s all sorts of BITS floating in it! They don’t do chores, they don’t help out with the yard work – oh, sure, they might risk death facing a monster or five for you, but so what? What’s the worst thing that’s going to happen to them? THEY’LL GET RELEASED FROM YOUR SERVICE, THAT’S WHAT!
That would be like hiring me and telling me that if I got any of the spoons out of the silverware drawer, I’d have to eat your entire freezer full of Ben & Jerrys. Yeah, brilliant plan, there. Sure, sure, they do great work and make us powerful, blah blah blah – but they’re not servants, that’s my point.
I move we start calling them “Whiny Bastiches.” Oh, sure, you THINK they’re there to do all the fighting for me. That’s only because you guys don’t speak undead. If you could understand what these guys spent their entire time bitching about, I assure you, your growth would be stunted, too. It’s amazing how little you can find yourself eating when everyone around you is talking about ‘how to keep your arm from falling off’ or ‘what sort of knot works best at keeping your lower intestines in.’
Yeah, now you know why all of us Inconnu spend all of our lives jealous of how tall dwarves get to be…