We had a bit of fun in Stormwind tonight, making people boggle and getting them to get down with us.
We’re a hundred strong and growing. Come join the Gnomish Operation!
We had a bit of fun in Stormwind tonight, making people boggle and getting them to get down with us.
We’re a hundred strong and growing. Come join the Gnomish Operation!
I love search terms. Especially all the ones I get about how to kiss your ‘husbend’ hardcore in order to show your appreciation. And all the ones that relate directly to blog drama. For. Shame.
But those are for another day. Today I want to help all the people who apparently struggle to understand just what the heck is going on in Pride and Prejudice by answering some queries that sent some poor, unwitting souls my way.
Most of these quotes come with a “meaning” or “analysis” modifier attached.
Mr. Wickham states that “man should not be estimated beyond their deserts” First of all, Mr. Wickham is sort of a snake, so take anything he says with a grain of salt. Secondly, always estimate people by their WoL performance. Duh.
The possibility of Mr Collins’s fancying himself in love with her friend had once occurred to Elizabeh Mkay, well. First, it’s Elizabeth. How this one brought people to me several times, I don’t even know. On so many levels. But this is pretty bloody obvious to anyone with a scrap of reading comprehension. Elizabeth, or Elizabeh if you prefer, at one point thought: “You know, I bet that stupid Mr. Collins – a man who wouldn’t know what love was if it tripped him in the lane and then proceeded to beat the snot out of him for a few hours – thinks he is in love with my good friend, Charlotte.” Then she rolled her eyes and said, “What a noob.” Trufax.
She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved. As you ought to be aware, Lady Catherine is a GM. She wants everyone to know that and to not have any undue confusion about her standing in the guild. She also wants the lowly non-leadership members of the guild to sit down, shut up and recognize that a GM is someone to be worshiped, reverently and from a distance. Also, she should have all the best gear. To preserve the distinction of rank. Some random raider should not have a higher iLvl/GearScore than the illustrious leader of a guild. I mean, really.
Caroline is a whore I heard a rumor that she dances naked on mailboxes to earn enough gold to repair her gear, ever since Charlie cut her off from guild bank access. He had to cut her off because she was taking all the BoE epics and selling them to fund her depraved lifestyle of attempting to pick up Tauren in bars in Orgrimmar.
I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. Once again, Mr. Collins = le stupid. Lady de Bourgh = le snob. Collins thinks that Lady Cat’s outright interference and bossiness in all the areas of his life is a major plus to bring to the table when trying to convince a woman to marry him. To me it sounds like a bit like a mother in law from hell, magnified by the factor of a million and living right across the lane. Like, amg, that’s so awesome. Awesome like that one time I accidentally fell off Outland.
The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen. Darcy has an insanely good GearScore and the WoL data to back up anything he might wish to brag about and he totally goes around bragging all the time. So everyone just does whatever he wants because he’s such a leet raider. At least, that’s the sort of QQ the jealous and petty Mr. Wickham would have you believe.
The first part of this was published yesterday. Click the arrow to read it first if you missed it. Thanks again to Zel from Murloc Parliament!
For nine whole days, GM-Apollo pewpewed the Alliance, but upon the tenth day Achilles called them in a server meeting–moved thereto by GM-Hera, who saw the Alliance about to server transfer and had compassion upon them. Then, when they were got together, he spoke among them.
“Guild Leader Agamemnon,” said he, “I deem that we should find out WTF is going on if we would escape destruction, for we are being cut down by players in PvP and by a GM’s overpowered hax at once. Let us ask some former game dev, or some fanboi who can tell us why GM-Apollo is so pissed at us, and say whether it is for some rule in the terms of service that we have broken, or compliments that we have not offered, and whether he will accept a bribe, so as to take away the plague from us.”
With these words he /sat down, and Calchas, wisest of Guild Leaders, who knew things past and present and spoilers to come, /rose to speak. He it was who had guided the Alliance with their fleet from the Eastern Kingdoms to Kalimdor, through the PM’s with which GM-Apollo had inspired him. With all sincerity and goodwill he addressed them thus:–
“Achilles, Guild Leader of the <Myrmidons>, loved of Lady RNG, you bid me tell you about the anger of GM-Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider first and swear that you will stand by me heartily in word and deed, for I know that I shall make a top guild leader butt-hurt. A casual player cannot stand against the nerdrage of a leet guild leader, who if he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse revenge till he has wreaked it. Consider, therefore, whether or no you will protect me from his guild whisper-spamming me.”
And Achilles answered, “Fear not, but speak as it is borne in upon you from guild master experience, for by GM-Apollo, Calchas, to whom you brownnose, and whose PM’s you reveal to us, not a guild will launch a harassment campaign on you, while my toon yet lives to look upon the face of Azeroth — not though you name Guild Leader Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of the Alliance.”
Thereon the seer spoke boldly. “The GM,” he said, “is angry neither about the breaking of rules nor does he desire brownnosing, but he is right pissed for his groupie’s sake, whom Guild Leader Agamemnon has dishonored, in that he would not allow his guildie to faction transfer back, even when presented with phat lewt; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver our server from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the Hordie chick to her faction and guild without accepting phat lewts or gold, and has sent a cute minipet to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him.”
With these words he stopped typing, and Agamemnon /rose in anger. His heart was black with rage, and he did a /scowl emote on Calchas and said, “Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied good spoilers concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was game-breaking. You have brought me neither comfort nor screenshots as proof; and now you come spamming in Local Defense, and saying that GM-Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a payment of gold or phat lewts for this Hordie chick, the guildie of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own guild, for I love her better even than my own wife IRL Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in form and feature (according to pix, anyway), in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will let her faction transfer back, if I must, for I would have the server ratios survive, not die; but you must find me another transferred Hordie chick to fill her spot, or I alone among the Guild Leaders on this server shall be without an e-girlfriend. This is not well; for you behold, all of you, that my e-girlfriend is to go elsewhither.”
And Achilles answered, “Most noble Agamemnon, covetous beyond all hardmode guild leaders, how shall the server find you another e-girlfriend? We have no common store from which to take one. Those we poached from the Horde are taken; we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already. Give this Hordie chick, therefore, to the GM, and if ever GM-Zeus grants us to sack the city of Ogrimmar, we will requite you three and fourfold.”
Then Agamemnon said, “Achilles, valiant though you be, you shall not thus outwit me. You shall not overreach and you shall not persuade me. Are you to keep your own e-girlfriend, while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the Hordie chick at your bidding? Let the guild find me a prize in fair exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your e-girlfriend, or that of Ajax or of Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming. But of this we will take thought hereafter; for the present, let us make a raid, give the GM a bribe, and send Chryseis back to her faction and guild; further, let some leet player among us be in command of the raid, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself, leet DPS that you are, that we may offer bribes and brownnosing and appease the anger of the GM.”
Achilles /scowled at him and typed, “You are steeped in insolence and lust of gain. With what heart can any of the guildies do your bidding, either on PvP arena teams or in open raiding? I came PvPing here for any ill the Horde had done me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raided my bank, nor made themselves a nuisance in Dun Morogh; for between me and them there is a great space, both mountain and sounding sea. We have followed you, Sir Epeen! for your pleasure, not ours–to gain satisfaction from the Horde for your shameless self and for Menelaus, leader of your sister guild. You forget this, and threaten to rob me of the e-girlfriend for whom I have grinded rep and xp, and which the other Guild Leaders have given me. Never when the guild raids a Horde city do I receive as good lewt as you do, though my DPS is the highest. When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest, and I, forsooth, must take what I can get and be thankful, when my pwning is done. Now, therefore, I shall take a WoW-cation; it will be much better for me to do dailies or grind achievements, for I will not stay here dishonored to gather gold and lewt for you.”
And Agamemnon answered, “Fine, ragequit then, I won’t beg you to stay in-game. I have others here who will do me honor, and above all GM-Zeus, the lord of counsel. There is no guild leader here so hateful to me as you are, for you are ever quarrelsome and ill-affected. Was it not RNG that made you so? Go take a break, then, with your <Myrmidons> guild to lord it over us on the forums. I care neither for you nor for your nerdrage; and thus will I do: since GM-Apollo is taking Chryseis from me, I shall send her back to her faction and guild. But I shall take your own e-girlfriend Briseis, that you may learn that my epeen is bigger than yours, and that another may fear to set himself up as equal or comparable with me.”
Today’s guest post will be the first of a multi-part contribution from the inimitable Zelmaru of Murloc Parliament. She is making epic poetry accessible to the modern day WoW player by putting the Iliad in WoW terms.
We’ll butcher anything for the sake of WoW around here. Next up will doubtless be the epic retelling of Moby Dick, featuring the fearsome Whale Shark. Just call me Alasmael. Ha.
Tell us, O GM, the urban legend about the nerdrage of Achilles that brought countless ills upon the Alliance. Many a brave soul did it send running back from the spirit healer, and many a hero did it yield a prey to worgs and vultures, for so were the counsels of GM-Zeus fulfilled from the day on which Guild Leader Agamemnon, and great Guild Leader Achilles, first fell out with one another.
And which of the GMs was it that set them on to quarrel? It was GM-Apollo, the subordinate of GM-Zeus and GM-Leto; for he was angry with Agamemnon and sent a pestilence upon the server to plague the Alliance players, because Agamemnon had dishonored Chryses, the Guild Leader of a Horde guild and GM-Apollo’s most loyal groupie.
Now Chryses had come to the port of Ratchet to ransom his guildie, so that the guildie might faction change back to Horde, and had brought with him some goodies for the gbank: moreover he bore in his hand a fishing pole, a sign of peaceful intent, and he sought the Alliance, but most of all the Guild Leaders Agamemnon and Menelaos, who were the chiefs of the highest ranked guilds on the server.
“Leaders of the Alliance,” he QQed, “and all other guilds, may the GMs who work in Blizzard HQ grant you to pwn Ogrimmar, and to return to Stormwind in safety; but free my guildie to faction transfer back, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to GM-Apollo, subordinate of GM-Zeus.”
On this the rest of the Alliance were typing furiously in Local Defense to respect the fellow guild leader and take the phat lewt that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. “Old man,” said he, “let me not find you hanging around our basic campfire, nor yet coming hereafter. Your fishing pole shall profit you nothing. I will not let her transfer back. She shall reach max level in my guild in Stormwind far from her own home, busying herself with grinding tailoring and visiting Goldshire with me (hehe); so GTFO, and do not provoke me or I will file a harassment ticket and it shall suck to be you.”
The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he typed, but went to the shore of the Great Sea and sent in a ticket to GM-Apollo whom lovely GM-Leto had trained. “Hear me,” he QQed, “O GM of the silver text, that protectest Chryses and rulest this server with thy might, hear me. If I have ever sung your praises on the official forums, or sent emails to blizzard HQ on your behalf, grant my ticket, and let your superpower GM hax avenge these my tears upon the Alliance.”
Thus did Chrises type, and GM-Apollo received his ticket. He came down furious from the break room in Blizzard HQ, and logged in with his best showy GM-gear on and with the rage that trembled within him. He teleported his toon down to the coast of Ratchet and, with a face as dark as night, his keyboard rang death as he shot his bolts of sploitz in the midst of them. First he smote their hunter pets, but presently he aimed his shafts at the players themselves, and all day long the players were running back from the graveyard.
Because I’m a jerk. A gloating sort of jerk.
Nymphy is one of Alas’s guild-members (read: peons) in Eff the Ineffable and has wandered over here from D/E the Tank because she can’t resist taking over Alas’ blog for a few moments. It is her fault for leaving it unattended anyway! She has dragged Orv over here to help her let Alas know just how much she is revered (read: feared) on her blogoversary.
Orv has been known to tank now and again for Alas’s officerless guild experiment. After nine months Alas still hasn’t choked him out, which probably has more to do with her inability to reach his throat, and less to do with his being the best guildy ever.
*peers around at the unattended blog* Good, she is gone, in pursuit of new ways to torment her victims we assume. We are here to set you straight about Alas. She is a dictator. Seriously. It is unbelievable, but it is the truth! We are sent cowering in fear every day and there is NO escape from it! We have no officers because she won’t give up the control, it all has to be in her power hungry hands. And you are lucky not to have heard her floral profanities! We dare not repeat them here, your eyes might be sensitive to such atrocities as those! As she lures more and more new people to her side with promises of a democratic guild and fair raiding slots, we decided to seize this chance to tell you the truth before you get sucked in by her false promises as well! Now, we don’t have much time before she comes back so here is the honest truth, prepare yourself well cause it isn’t likely we will get an opportunity like this again:
We actually like Alas. Really! Now we may be masochists but we cheer at the floral profanities and the way we have to kill ourselves for loot*. It has been a unique experience, her guild without officers experiment, and one that we are very happy to be a part of. Alas, is, well, Alas. Brash, funny, and fearless leader all in one. So here’s to you Alas! Happy Effing Alas-iversary and may you have many more days to exult in your tyranny…
*Oblique reference to our loot system Suicide Kings.
Today’s guest post comes to me from my darling Elfindale. I hope it makes y’all giggle as much as it does me. (Click the link below to listen to Elfi read it. She’s quite charming!)
Congratulations on 2 years Alas! :D
As for a request…I’d like to see some early screenshots of nooby Alas, when you were still leveling and learning the game. Those are always fun / funny!
First of all, I have to say this about Rades. He’s brilliant. Thanks for the idea, man. As you may have noticed from the way I instantly started spazzing about it over Twitter, I love this whole concept.
The first thing I did when I got home yesterday was open up my pictures folder and go digging. I took some time a while ago to organize all my screenshots by date, so finding the oldest ones I had wasn’t a problem.
Finding old ones that were actually from when I first started playing and that were actually mine was something more of an issue. So when At got home I asked him if there were backups floating around somewhere and could he please find them, kthx web monkey. And At delivered and would like me to note that this delivery was srs bzns. Something about blah blah, TGA not JPG’s tech talky-speaky.
I pay attention whenever At starts talking like that. To anything other than what he is saying. Anyhow, I gather there was something of a heroic struggle on his part and all I know is I had to open the files up in GIMP because nothing else was going to do the job for me.
And here’s the very first screenshot I ever took.
It is from December of ’06 and features my first ever character: Haelo, a Druid. I distinctly recall deleting her in a fit of rage because those nasty bear creatures with THONGS kept killing me, and clearly the Druid play style is not for me! (It isn’t, but I do have one at 85 these days. Leveling became easier once I stopped pulling all the things without paying attention to little details like their level in relation to mine. I found it easier to survive.)
Here’s the oldest shot of Alas
I At could dig up:
Yeah, I have no idea why I even have this shot. I am in a party with the guy responsible for getting us playing (Anx). Capt, I am pretty sure, was a level 60 (this was back in Vanilla) paladin that belonged to his brother-in-law. That staff on my back is more than likely the first blue I ever got in the game, after Anx ran At and me through Deadmines, where we boggled with glee over how much XP and SILVER we were getting just for being there.
Please note the general fabulousness of my UI. I mean, it’s smokin’ hawt, right?
I can’t tell which guild we were in back then. I don’t even remember being in a guild on Uther.
Some other early shots include At discovering Noggenfogger and figuring out how to turn off the UI:
One last thing and then I’m done. I am fairly notorious for hating pvp, gnomes and warlocks as far as my personal play-style goes. It’s a wonder Cynwise will even speak to me.
So how do I explain this?
What you’re seeing there was actually pretty much all my idea. I couldn’t tell you what sparked it. But I do recall rolling up a gnome warlock with the intention of PvPing with her. At copied the model I used and swapped out two letters in the name. Then other people from the guild got in on it.
We built a list of relatively easy-to-acquire gear and detailed instructions on how to acquire it. We ran each other through Deadmines and high level (for a 17-19 character) quests out in Stonetalon. We found the one guy on the whole server who could do the enchants we wanted and we farmed the crap out of elementals for the mats needed. We all learned Engineering and maxxed out our First Aid as high as we could. Once we had Engineering as high as we could get it, we farmed a little more and then dropped mining so we could level Jewel Crafting. For the healy statues.
As people got ready and hit 19, we hit the battlegrounds. And we pwned face. The enemy would hate us so much they would create level 1 Alliance characters to call us cheaters or say they were going to report us for botting. Hell, we had Alliance people take one look at us in all of our matchy-matchy glory and threaten to report us for botting. (This never made sense coming from either side. At worse, someone was multi-boxing which is, of course, perfectly acceptable)
The most Iso’s (as we called them) that we ever had in one BG at a time was five. We waited in the queue for an hour and the match lasted nearly as long. We won… but it was a fight and we were up against some talented Horde players.
Writing this up has made me realize that even though there’s a lot of personal history I couldn’t hope to recapture or relive, I would totally go in on PvPing with a bunch of clones again. Anyone else up for that?
Wensleydale, AKA a lot of other things but known to most as Glorwynn of Heavy Wool Bandage.
Glorwynn is in mah guild so I’m sure she’ll pick a pet there rather than here. In the meantime, I hope everyone enjoys pigeon labor or whatever the fuck this is as much as I did.
Slippery winds choked the air as
gaggles of wooden crates stood,
watching blindly for the fourth instant past dawn.
Waiting as long as a blind crate could.
“CRRAWRK’RRK!” the cry went up!
Up into the the liquid, tangy field
of sky and silence and slip.
Then thudded and oozed into it’s last appeal.
Once more than once and less than thrice
it echoed in the spleeny black.
“GRACK’RAWK-K!” and then “GREEEL’KEE!” and also “REEP! REEP! REEP’KRIK!”
But the lattingales boiled another pot of rice.
‘Twas too many over and minus the dawn
when the glumpy hags scackled brightly past.
From beyond my omniflexible perception I smelled them.
Especially the one adorned in mossy sweat and elemental hat.
Look now! O’er the texturized, spiky, wobbling tiles
a fargulting entity emergenates from deep within.
Mindboggling, exemplifying, inspirationorating…
But with that halitosis taint, which even the underdeveloped plebe knows as sin.
Bones were cast, ballots drawn up.
Executors carried in the ephemeral vaults
of tradional, sanctimonious, civilized ritual of the mischevous and bureaucratic gloriousness.
“At last,” the words dribbled from elongated gaping maws, “we find fault.”
Of course, I cast my vote!
Of course, I signed my name!
“MWRAARRRKK!” The protestations of the unqualified flared like fiery chimberlottes.
Yourself and myself are not to blame.
Pass the pudding over this way.