Mataoka met a friendly goblin, a Janus creature with two faces, who knew his business well. To have something, a token, from her ancestral shaman past would be worth its weight in salt and gold. The brief ethereal week the faire was there, the fairy circle that would disappear at midnight, was not enough time for her to do all she needed to do to earn this mask. (Her shaman pockets were filled with dirt and grass, never gold or tokens.) She shrugged – next time the moon was full the faire would sprout in the dark woods again, barking blood and entertainment. The cage fight was certain to be for the benefit of the carnival workers, for their delight and amusement. Wondering what was up the path, down this glen, she transformed into her wolf spirit, and explored. She came upon a grisly discovery: a rookery of cages, filled with small bones, strongly bolted still. The cages looked almost new, but the bones, stripped of all flesh and remnants of clothing, told another tale. Whose bones were they? Goblins, gnomes…children? She sniffed, but the scents of cakes and beer overtook even her sense of smell. Movement: another wolf, just over there. He was gone, quick as a spark to ash. Her heart felt heavy, and slowed down her movement. Mataoka returned home.
Being a man is tough.
|The seafood fest especially frightens me.|
Being a man in the 2150s is going to be tougher still:
All right. Have kind of a tough thing to bring up. According to one report, 40% of WoW players are female. Just as there are all kinds of personalities represented by the males of our species, there are various archetypes of the females. One in particular
concerns intrigues me, and that is the “damsel in distress.” These are the players who typically are not necessarily elite, pro, or have any desire to do much in terms of research, or when they do get advice, shun it with a sweet “hmm-mmm.” The on-going victimization works well for them in terms of attention, game time, and fun. And I can’t say as I blame these Penelope Pitstops–everyone loves the Daphnes and no one wants the Velmas (being squarely in the Velma camp myself, which has worked pretty well for me. I’d rather have a Shaggy than a Fred any day.) These females see other females on two speeds only: competition or matrons. Sharing in the sandbox with the other skirts is challenging at best.
But caution, all ye males who fall for this: I have an acquaintance, an IT gentleman with whom I work, who told the tale of a friend of his whose father played WoW and pretended to be a girl in order to get things. I realize his shenanigans are not original. But if you’re thinking that hot little draenei is fawning over you and your big, strong virtual muscles just because you’re hunky, you may want to edit that fantasy just a hair (in a manner of speaking).
|“I’ll play the victim!” Wednesday Addams: “All your life.”|
I deserved that.
Nothing like removing a tank’s boot from one’s tail to jar some sense of renewed healing responsibility. On my beautiful priest, Zep, things were moving along okay, but had forgotten that I played with my talent tree a bit and I think pruned it too much. In one of the new dungeons today, Mannoroth always gives me a run for my mana, and today was no exception. I have enjoyed the backing of great dps and tank friends when I play as my healer, and a quick sprouting of a set of angel wings doesn’t seem to cause most alarm. Mannoroth takes a lot of mana out of girl, though, and combine that with yucky neon-pee colored fire, resurrecting back into it, will try even the most charming of tank’s patience, as it was today. The tiny, sycophantic words, “You are no longer in this group’s instance” sting like a flu shot–needed, but it’s mean medicine.
So, back to the drawing board. Put back on Circle of Healing, looked at the trees again, tidied up the action bar a little bit. I know I need to use Vuhdo, but I really hate its interface, so I’ve just been using raid frames and Spellflash/Omni.
Before I took a long hard look at my FAILURES–I went into that dungeon again. Little more mentally focused, but tank died, and he apologized. I warned them all that if there was fire I would abandon them all and to not take it personally. They didn’t– in fact, were all quite charming. Someone missed the interrupts on the Queen – one wipe. No. Big. Deal. We adjusted, got it right, and did it again. Everyone went home with 150 Valor Points in their gift bags and a smile on their faces. But, I am glad I got kicked from the first one, because really, the second time was tough, and it was time to take a hard look. I’m not sure if what I reconfigured will work better for the new dungeons, but we’ll see. I have the number of a good lawyer if you want to sue for damages and mental anguish.
Revised theme song: Somebody I used to know…Gotye
(Man is that video going to look dated in ten years)