Tales from the Burning Crusade

It's been almost two weeks to the day since I once again entered World of Warcraft. Some of you may recall that, previously, my WoW interest level was, shall we say, lukewarm. Case in point, my highest level character was a 24 warrior, and that was after months of subscribing.

Two weeks. Now my highest level character is a 54 Blood Elf priest.

Okay, kidding; he's level 26, but hey, that's respectable. Suffice it to say, I'm enjoying my time with the game quite a bit more now. It's terribly absorbing, and everyone on the planet seemed to realize that before I did. For whatever reason, I didn't quite grasp the allure of killing massive packs of sickly gazelles or suckling the fine leather teat of a Tauren strumpet until now. There's definitely a strong social incentive now; I'm in Nolan's guild and want only to impress him, thus securing my position as his mistress.


But fuck social incentives. This game is fun. I can't quite put my finger on why, seeing as it's littered with weeaboo, preteen dipshits, sardonic assholes that destructively ravage groups, GIANT PACKS OF DRAENI FUCKBAGS WHO AMBUSH ME WHEN I AM TRYING TO MACK ON SOME HARPIES, and repetitive game mechanics. I suppose the need to progress is wholly engrossing. Besides that, getting together with a good party is an unrivaled gaming experience. I was with a full group in Shadowfang Keep, approaching the final boss Aragul, a most powerful mage that had already laid waste to our entire party once before. We waited beneath his platform, preparing ourselves for battle as our hunter sidled ever closer.

Suddenly, an arrow shot forth. The room was hurled into chaos. Our party descended upon the nefarious Aragul, neon magic shooting to and fro, swords clashing, and confused voices shouting (or typing) "what happened?!" Minutes passed. Despite my best efforts as priest, the party was growing weak, and Aragul seemed to have the upper hand. My mana was all but depleted. We prepared ourselves for death.


The tanks and melee attackers fell first. Aragul's life was low, but certainly not low enough for a barely living duo of priest and warlock. He teleported to the floor beneath his platform. Our deceased party members cheered us on as we leaped down after him. We were both on the cusp of the spirit world. I had a slight bit of mana left, and I knew I would have to choose whether to shoot off a healing spell or attempt to kill him with a Mind Flay.

I went for the latter. The warlock joined me, our two streams of sweet, sweet destructive mana goodness bursting into Aragul's evil bosom. And then he fell. It was pretty much the most exhilarating thing that ever happened. Ever. And then I stole his robe. Aragul was dead and naked.

Anyway. While I hope to not get dreadfully addicted, I will say that this is a great game that has absorbed many, many hours of my life even in the span of two weeks. Good show, Blizzard. Good show.