Monday, December 20, 2010

Morphing Morphemia...

Sometimes I wonder if I'm dead or alive. I live in a Morpheus dream-state; Epiales, the god of nightmares visits me frequently and socially, but this does not make me happy. Not knowing whether to damage monstrous souls with blight or bile, and the blood serves me poorly, too. I am an anemic Death Knight. I would eat raw shoveltusk steaks if I thought it would help.

Keeping balanced on my runes, and enough protection armor to see me and my minions safely through a difficult quest or dungeon hasn't been easy. I fail more than I succeed. Hero class? Me? Sometimes I just feel like a big phony. I got into this class by standing on the shoulder pads of greater players. No one can love me, or will. Not frisky and sweet like Mataoka, or fiercely independent like Haanta, the hunter, my Draenei ancestry only causes conflict within my fragile soul. Redemption and resurrection cannot clean the graveyard dirt from under my nails; no amount of scrubbing or repair can clear the conflicted emotions. Hanging out with the jovial and jocular Kalu'ak tribe, near Dragonblight, is warmth. Their friendly nature, down-to-earth advice, and warm blessing do cheer me.

However, I am still conflicted...should I tank, or damage? Should I just focus on damage, or brace myself to the criticisms, the slings and arrows of poor tanking? What if I make the wrong choice? What if everyone dies because of me? Do I want to be the biggest threat in the room, while simultaneously slipping further away from love and friendships? If I am under the spells of unholy damage, my minion faithfully serves by my side, but he is no match for a friendly fox pet or polar bear. He smells, too. Personal hygiene is not his forte. He's not much of a conversationalist either.

Note: many players get it right, though-

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