Know Your Archetype: The Devil

Beetlejuice. Beeltejuice. Beet-
This illustrates the architecture of a demon…
Thinking about Ariel and her voice, and…other things…made me think about the archetype of the devil. The “deal with the devil” is a linchpin of plot connections. There is usually a pivotal moment where the hero gives. trades, barters, or denies something that is so important to their powers in exchange for something they think will save themselves or others. And does the devil need all that stuff? I mean, what does he do with it anyway? Does he own a chain of storage units on the outskirts of town, where legions of trash pickers come to collect the $100 bills behind the sad clown paintings? 
Oh -sorry. Got side-tracked there. 
Anyway, what the devil does with this stuff, I have no clue. Usually he, or she, wants to fill a personal emotional vacuum, such as Beetlejuice’s marriage proposal with Lydia, in exchange he will save the Maitlands. He’s just really lonely, and is tired of going to miniature model houses of ill repute.
Sometimes…you’re feeling a little..anxious…if you know what I mean…
Illidan is one such hero turned villain due to his dealings with devils. In an attempt to save his people on a mighty wave of hubris, he turns all dark and brooding. Well, maybe if Tyrande had kept her quiver full, none of this would have happened. It usually helps to blame women, right Eve?
That’s hot.
The devil archetype is just about in every narrative and line of discourse. On one end it’s simple bargaining, to the other extreme we lose our eternal souls. Dammit, I needed that! Just got that back from the cleaners!
In Azeroth, the big temptations come in the form of buying gold, or paying a guild to carry one through heroic raids for prized weapons and gear. Getting out of those moral entaglements usually takes the rest of the bucket of popcorn and 45 screen minutes to get out of–it usually isn’t worth it. Whatever we accomplish in game, and more importantly, out, is worth keeping our souls for, at least 21 ounces doesn’t get much in the auction house. Might as well vendor it out.
Every boss that does some sort of slow-burn damage, or face-changing is a type of devil, I suppose. I haven’t played long enough to know if there are any current fights where the players bascially need to sacrifice themselves for others’ gain. Now those would be interesing fights, to say the least. Think about it: deals with devils in order for the whole raid to succeed, but the sacrificial lamb gets nothing? How would that ever work? Maybe that should be part of a legendary chain, and we all get a chance for pretty blue mounts and dragon-infused staffs. 
Oh wait, we do. Go down to the crossroads and talk to a man there. He’ll help you out.

Innocent but still feeling guilty. Or, it’s a wonderful virtual life.

Okay. I am sorry.
I said it.
I am sorry that there was a player who played so much, so often, and had so many characters, gold, and stuff, that when he decided to quit the game, it was like the death of a favorite, and rich, uncle who left me damn near everything, including: Vial of the Sands, ready to go, gassed up, keys in the ignition. I even wrote about it here.

This apology has been swirling around my mind for awhile, ever since I knew Tome was A. Looking for it, B. Found it, and C. Frustrated over the materials. 
Tome, pretend you are a REALLY big pigeon, and you know…do that thing that pigeons do on statues…

I have often thought about this player, whom every one of his characters’ names began with the letter “Q.” I was telling a game friend the other day about him, because all I was just nice, and as I told my friend, not “escort service level nice.” Just nice. I am a friendly little Draenei, and genuinely do love people. It’s a gift I guess. I’m one of “those.” Try as I might, I just can’t hate humanity. Doesn’t mean I want to be around them all the time, but all in all, do like you guys. 
But Tome, I get you. I really do. This gift was unexpected and most likely unwarranted. I mean, to give away at 40K mount meant that player was really, truly, quitting. No angel named Clarence was going to come and show him how Azeroth would be different if he wasn’t there. No angel was going to get his wings every time a bell in Stormwind rings. And certainly no Old Man Potter boss was going to be bested by friendship and community service. 
I know why we players get saddened that the “big goodies” are so out of reach for the solo or partner players, and why the raiders feel a certain amount of deserved entitlement to the good stuff. Tried to kill heroic Shannox last night with new guild, and did great the first, oh, 12,789 tries, but the 12,790-12,987th tries I keep stepping in *!*!*&(&(*&$YOSEMITESAM&*&(*#(*&($ traps. They were hidden under Shannox’s big, fat, phallic, slimy ass tail, or hidden by shiny Sanctuary, or stepped on a rock and the sun’s in my eyes-damn-I-am-tired-and-need-to-take-my-pills. 
It takes a balanced cocktail of creativity, ingenuity, luck, and “Frankly Scarlet I don’t give a damn” to enjoy Azeroth. The cooldowns and wait times and bean counters have it all too well mapped out to give us players what we want. The luck favors the House, always. There are no clocks in a casino, and few in Azeroth, and when the layers cross over too much to real-world grinding, well, then damn. 
I have a rich uncle in real life. Well, kind of. He inherited some money from a friend, and then took the whole family on a Caribbean Disney Cruise a few summers ago, during the oil spill. I would never have gotten to see that part of the world if he hadn’t had a rich friend in college, and then the friend dying, and then my uncle feeling the need to pull together a somewhat dysfunctional family for fun on a boat. It was hot, the beer was too expensive (ran up a $1400 tab–hush–I wasn’t the only one drinking), and got the living beejeezus scared out of me by the actions of another person (long story, not to be shared here). But—
—I did see blue, blue waters, manta rays that I got to pet and feed, bought Starbucks from baristas who didn’t give a sh8t and weren’t all-hyper, and watched the Little Mermaid on a large movie screen on deck with cocktails. 
Again, I have no real point. I wish Tome would get her pet, her mounts, and her materials more easily. I wish DirecTV wouldn’t praise me for being a customer since 1996 and then not come out and fix my dish. I wish my dreamcloth wasn’t so stupid to make so I can make my own magical pants. And I wish my new boss had been more respectful of my concerns when I brought them to her at the end of a very, very difficult time. But alas, none of these things happen. And my mojo also gets depleted. 
But there is blue, blue water out there….and somewhere Ariel is wishing for legs so she can dance with her prince…it only cost her her voice. But these silences are temporary–in the end, the tentacled monsters are defeated, and there is a happy ending.