This is a little story of…depravity and madness? Hope and glory? Snowed in and cabin fever?
Or, “How Transmogrification Ruined My Life?”
Remember all my lofty talk about not becoming the thing I hate? The whole, ‘hero has a dark moment and must fight against ‘it’, so he does not become ‘it?'” Well, fuggidabbowtit. I am not pleased with how I feel about a certain ninja:
Ceniza the Firestarter Cougar levels by dungeons, just like all the rest after Mataoka. “Matty” is my main, my training wheels, and an avatarial goddess.
Little fire mage goes into Blackrock Depths for the umpteenth time. (I really should just start questing again, enjoy the scenery, relax…) The angry dwarf Dagran (angry because his daughter is unattractive–her beard hasn’t grown in yet?) and he sheds his beautiful robe (kind of terrifying, but have seen plenty of dwarfs drop trou for Matty) Oh, that is beautiful. Need Need Need
Tank needs on it, too. Wins it. Leaves.
For the first time, I actually care, CARE, that this happened. Before transmogrification, it would be no big deal. She would have outgrown it anyway. I obsess about this dress. Obsession like none other. Except I can’t remember what it was called after it happened, and was talking to a guild mate about it. She did a little research, and found its name: Robes of the Royal Crown, and links it to me:
So, back to the Depths I go. Maybe I’ll use the power of my two accounts and leave Ceniza at the door while Matty hacks her way through the other shoppers getting to the sale racks where the good stuff is.
Oh, and Blizz? Know how you thwarted ninjas with BOE items and others, by greying out the dice if that character cannot equip it? May want to go back and do that with these other items. Oh, crazy emergent behavior.
Like going virtually “shopping” for pixels on a snow day.