The tale of the traitor, pt 2
August 12, 2009
I promised you I’d continue on my story of my rather short and traumatic career in WAR. And, it took me a bit longer than expected, (due to trauma ofc,) but here it is:
The next thing I had on my list to do while playing WAR, was to test the PvP. I mean, all I’ve been reading is how fabulous the PvP in WAR was supposed to be, so not checking it out would’ve made me look a bit silly. I don’t wanna be that silly little blogging-girl, so I jumped in with my sexy little BoobElf head first and aimed to kill all that threatened to oppose my confused caster skills. Actually, I had a great deal of fun. The know-it-alls of WoW were lacking, and I felt was this tight feeling of doing some good piece of war with my comrades. I’ve never been much of a PvP person, but to some extent I dare say I enjoyed it more that the PvP Azeroth can offer me. Somehow I have a feeling it’s because the game’s still a bit fresh. People haven’t had the time to grow into know-it-all bitches that moan about everything you do wrong. They helped me, gave me tips of what they thought would make me better. That sure felt new.
However, things kinda went a bit downhill from that. After looking a bit on the gameplay and surroundings, I again headed to gaze at my character. “Let’s have some fun you and me, little BoobElf.”, I said to myself and typed /smile. Aww, she smiled at me. Maybe she wasn’t that bad after all, this elf with friggin’ huge balconies, melons, whatever. So I decided to take our relationship a step further and typed /dance. Oh, the outcome ruined WAR for me. Did she possess a dance so awful I’ve been stuck with a raging headache and bleeding eyes since that very moment? Did her dance consist of her flinging poo at the NPCs nearby, while screaming like a mad monkey? Oh, no. No, no, no. It was so cruel, it’s hard to write it down. She refused. The emote just told me how that stuck-up pair of boobs declined on my invitation to dance for me. I just gave the monitor and angry stare and logged off.
An hour later tho, I decided to give the game a new chance, a fresh beginning between BoobElf and me. Maybe we just had a little rough start? To ease things up a bit, I decided to continue on my questing. Things went pretty decent, I dare say. I killed some lions, hunted down some ladies. All in all, I was starting to get my hopes back up. Until that quest came. That evil, sinful quest that made my own naughty affair with WAR look like a fluffy little dream. At the moment I find it hard to say what they made me do in that quest, the scars run so deep it’s tearing my soul apart at this very moment. Oh God. They made me.. /cry, THEY MADE ME KILL UNICORNS. Unicorns, the source of all good in the world, (next to rainbows and glitter,) now had to face death in the shape of a BoobElf and dark magic. I was devastated. And to this day, I dare say I’ve never played Warhammer: Age of Reckoning. Never, never again will innocent unicorns face death by my hand. Never again will I slay these creatures of glitter and good. Never again I tell you, you sadistic game named Warhammer, I will no longer slay the innocent horn-horsies for you!
I’m back at WoW now. And hell, it did as I predicted. I love WoW even more now. It doesn’t tell me to shed the glittery blood of unicorns. It doesn’t refuse to dance when I’m in the mood for some fun. Wow, darling, hunny bunny, I’m coming home. Covered in the blood of unicorns, I need your blizzards and riptides and hurricanes and holy light to feel whole and cleansed again!