Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Welcome to the jungle.

Here, kitty kitty...

See the time of this post, approximately 5AM PST? That's because I'm infected with a bad case of jungle fever. And I don't mean the Spike Lee variety. Guildmaster got a group together for a run at the new 4.1 Heroic Zul'Gurub last night. It started around 8PM, and I had to, HAD TO, log off around 11:30PM. There were disconnection issues, more disconnection issues, learning the fights (the very bestestmostfunnest part) and then there was fire. Lots and lots of fire, or its facsimile. That I stepped in. A lot. Was told not to. But I didn't listen. It was like playing in a giant sandbox of fun and crunchiness, and I kept finding all the cat turds. I only got through, what, maybe 4/6 of the bosses, didn't get to finish (sad unsmiley face) because of real life responsibilities, those same responsibilities I may not be able to face or render because quite frankly, I don't feel so good right now. I think my mojo has been drained, and those trolls' voodoo dolls are working overtime, sticking pins in my homonculus' tummy even as I write.

In any case, here are some things I learned (besides fire bad, which I knew, but in trying to be my "one shammy-size fits all" and hitting cleanse, healing myself, etc., which didn't really work out so well, I quit being good at anything towards the end of the night):

  • Rats= no good. Use them for an achievement, of which I am far, far away from. Thought that giving the cat a rat to play with would keep them occupied. Instead it just pisses them off even more.
  • High Priestess Kilnara is one bad kitty-cat. Kilnara reminded me of some scene out of Cat People . Still putting antiseptic on the claw marks on my back. It was kind of fun fighting her though, gotta admit.
  • Technically the first boss is Venoxis, but he was the last one I encountered before I had to go. No wonder why I have a tummy ache. The first one we did was Zan'Zil, and he was fun. Really. Completely agree with GM: interesting and engaging, and took some thought. A few other bosses in this instance are really just big, dumb trash disguised as bosses. But don't underestimate them, as I did. 
  • Trolls will throw dirt at you. Bring some Visine.

I am really looking forward to many successful runs with the guild on these, but not so much in PUGs. There are some complicated mechanics, at least for me, and I really want my guild's guidance and support. They were quite patient with me last night, but I don't want to try that patience too much. When I start getting tired, my fingers turn to sandstone monoliths, crumbling and clumsy, and my DPS skills melt. And as much as I hate to confess this, perhaps by writing it down and exposing it, owning it, one of my worst mistakes I made a few times was due to my big mouth. (Friends gasp in mock surprise!) I would be talking to a buddy with tells, and then accidentally reply to them while trying to hit a spell, and look over in horror as I would see the pink* 25565323424623 etc. (or something like that) stack up, my tail just dipping and dripping in junk and fire. Almost wish my beautiful little Mat avatar would jump through the screen and slap me.** Erase, hit return, and then, too late: gagging on goop and gore, I'm dead. (Oh, like you've never done that.)

But trust me, my fellow heroes, I will learn and do better next time. I can make this vow because I am a reflective player, and that's not a bad buff.

So, I'm going to go heal myself in real life, and then if I have time later, refill the bags with food, flasks, and bandages, because I pretty much emptied out my stash last night, as would many who were fighting Jamaican-accented trolls for a few hours.

Theme Song: I wan'na be like you- The Monkey Song/JungleBook
Nod to priest/warrior friend (thanks for this link!) WoW RHCP
Of course Buffalo Solider/Bob Marley

Vague Overview: Heroic Zul'Aman Guide
Zul'Gurub: Walkthrough
*My typeface color is deep pink. Whatever.
**GTFO wasn't working due the patch, my "you are too stupid to play this game" add on, but endorsed by Guildmasters everywhere. Well, DBM is anyway.


  1. Anonymous27.4.11

    EASTER, 1916
    William Butler Yeats

    I have met them at close of day
    Coming with vivid faces
    From counter or desk among gray
    Eighteenth-century houses.
    I have passed with a nod of the head
    Or polite meaningless words,
    Or have lingered awhile and said
    Polite meaningless words,
    And thought before I had done
    Of a mocking tale or a gibe
    To please a companion
    Around the fire at the club,
    Being certain that they and I
    But lived where motley is worn:
    All changed, changed utterly:
    A terrible beauty is born.

    That woman's days were spent
    In ignorant good will,
    Her nights in argument
    Until her voice grew shrill.
    What voice more sweet than hers
    When, young and beautiful,
    She rode to harriers?
    This man had kept a school
    And rode our wingéd horse;
    This other his helper and friend
    Was coming into his force;
    He might have won fame in the end,
    So sensitive his nature seemed,
    So daring and sweet his thought.
    This other man I had dreamed
    A drunken, vainglorious lout.
    He had done most bitter wrong
    To some who are near my heart,
    Yet I number him in the song;
    He, too, has resigned his part
    In the casual comedy;
    He, too, has been changed in his turn,
    Transformed utterly:
    A terrible beauty is born.

    Hearts with one purpose alone
    Through summer and winter seem
    Enchanted to a stone
    To trouble the living stream.
    The horse that comes from the road,
    The rider, the birds that range
    From cloud to tumbling cloud,
    Minute by minute they change;
    A shadow of cloud on the stream
    Changes minute by minute;
    A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
    And a horse plashes within it;
    The long-legged moor-hens dive,
    And hens to moor-cocks call;
    Minute by minute they live:
    The stone's in the midst of all.

    Too long a sacrifice
    Can make a stone of the heart.
    O when may it suffice?
    That is Heaven's part, our part
    To murmur name upon name,
    As a mother names her child
    When sleep at last has come
    On limbs that had run wild.
    What is it but nightfall?
    No, no, not night but death;
    Was it needless death after all?
    For England may keep faith
    For all that is done and said.
    We know their dream; enough
    To know they dreamed and are dead;
    And what if excess of love
    Bewildered them till they died?
    I write it out in a verse-
    MacDonagh and MacBride
    And Connolly and Pearse
    Now and in time to be,
    Wherever green is worn,
    Are changed, changed utterly:
    A terrible beauty is born.

    September 25, 1916

  2. That needs to be its own post, my friend - breathtaking.


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