According to my blog stats, someone is reading all my old LOTRO posts which is lovely to see. Even though I don’t play it anymore (and never will again unless it suddenly becomes a lot less grindy) I had a blast in Middle Earth and really enjoyed the posts I wrote about it, especially Keltorn’s tale which was going to follow my Warden through to the end until I lost heart in the game.
So whoever you are, I hope you are enjoying my scribblings. Leave me a comment or two and say Hi 
I took the long journey back to the forest yesterday but even the strangeness of my dream could not have prepared me for what I found there. The gridquakes I had heard about, often third or fourth hand from people who knew that despite my distance from the world Cowell & Kahruvel still meant a great deal to me, had wreaked havok through the ancient woodland and nearby village. It broke my heart to see so many familiar old landmarks gone, washed away into the void or desecrated by hateful thugs possessed by desires I would never, ever understand. Still, even though the tower had finally crumbled into the sea and the aqueduct had collapsed over the cliff, the forest itself still felt warm and inviting and I had a warm glow of nostalgia as I walked beneath her boughs. Even passing the spot where I had found the backpack that had transformed me so long ago made me smile a little.
But that smile faded as I came across the ancient landing stones near the border with Noyo. In my last visit Salazar’s archaeological dig had uncovered a circle of stone posts around a central dais and I had detected a weak, blue light rising up the stones and dissipating into the atmosphere. Although the stone circle had always been called a landing point, in truth I had no idea what it was for and the blue light inside it was just as mysterious, but now I found the site in an awful state of disrepair! All but one of the stones had gone, whether by the efforts of looters or the vagaries of grid stability I could not tell, but the rhythms of the blue energy had obviously thrown into discord and instead of a bubble of energy gently rising up the stones, now great arcs ballooned off into the air and crackled all around me.
“Impressive, huh?” came a voice behind me. I spun around with my heart in my mouth only to find my old friend, and follow half-gazelle, Shigeko Tachikawa stood looking at the light show.
“Shig! Wow! So, you see it too, huh?” I said.
“Yeah, I see it. No one else seems to, I’ve been watching and no one stops, just me, and now you. Oh, and hi by the way,” with that she hit me hard on the arm.
“Ow!” I said, “What was that for?”
“How long have you been away? How long?” she replied, emotion strong in her voice.
“Ahh, yeah, that,” I said sheepishly. “Look, I’m sorry, I’ve been busy…” I trailed off and offered her the kind of big toothy grin that often got me out of trouble, and occasionally got me in more.
“Yeah,” she said with semi-mock hurt, “Well just don’t do it again, ok?”
“I’ll try,” I said but knew I couldn’t ever keep such a promise. The lure of other worlds was always going to be too strong to ignore. I turned away from my lie and looked back into the light, a large arc just passing us by and running over some metal equipment Salazar had left out nearby.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure but my guess only Sal, or his gran, will know what to do about it. How about we take a wander down to the lighthouse and leave him a note?”
Shig beamed a smile at me and said “Race?”
I laughed, “Yeah, why not but you go easy on an old guy, huh?”
She laughed back, “Never!” and pushed me to the floor. I landed with a thud in the dust of the trail and she shot off like a rocket over the hill. I jumped to my feet and shouted after her “You cheat!” Ha! Who was I kidding, there was no way I’d ever beat her. I set off at a trot down the path but as I passed the pile of Sal’s equipment I turned back for one last look at the energy bleeding and arcing from the old stone. What the hell did it all mean? I must speak to Sal.
I dreamt of the shaman last night, not something I have done in over two years.
In the dream I awoke on the floor of the old wooden lookout clinging to the side of the hills over the sea of Mohr and found the shaman sat staring at me, just as he had done so long ago. As always with dreams the details are hazy and hard to recall exactly, but I must have asked him what he wanted because he pointed out to sea and said “Look at the clouds.” Over the waters rain-heavy clouds hung like wet washing on a line. “Look at the clouds,” he said again, “the pressure is building.” I must have asked what pressure but he merely repeated himself before standing and pointing at the sun which suddenly began rising over the far off storm. “The light is rising,” he said, “The light is rising.”
And that was it. I awoke from my dream and found my fur sodden with sweat and my heart racing. I’m sure it is nothing, I mean the shaman, the Eldars and even the damn elemental in my old backpack have been silent for so long now I’d truly begun to believe the past was done with me. Maybe it is. Still, I think I’ll pay a visit to the old forest tonight and see how it is faring.
If you’re going write, whether for fun or (possible) profit then you are going to face the dreaded Writer’s Block. Sometimes you’re not in the writing mood, sometimes your’re knackered or have too much on in your day to day life. Other times you want to write but nothing pours forth from your fingertips and every word you tap out comes to you like a pine-cone moving through your lower intestine.Sideways. Whatever the reason and whenever it strikes, writer’s block can be a right bastard and no mistake. It robs your hobby of joy (and your working day of its productive reason if blogging helps put food on the table) and can, if it goes on for any period of time, be a worrying thing to experience. If you have it now, then you also have my sympathy – I’m sure you’re rather not have either, but I can only offer so much.
Now there are a metric ton of articles offering advice on writer’s block out there (really – look!) so I won’t waste your time or mine rehashing them. Suffice to say that when the words won’t come then you should take a look at some of these articles – especially if you need food on the table! No, instead I’m going to give you the one piece of advice I’ve always found helpful when I have found myself barely able to type my own name without slipping into a coma. I don’t know where I got this advice from, I like to think a wandering Tibetan monk imparted a nugget of wisdom unto me in my moment of need but we both know that’s not going to be true so I won’t try and pass that off as a likely source. Instead I’ll cut to the chase and say that if you find writing hard, if the posts slow or even stop then the first thing, next and last thing you should do is quite simply this…
Nothing.
That’s right. Do absolutely nothing and then mooch off somewhere to chill.
The muse has left you yes, but she will be back so until then just accept, wait & relax. After all, it’s only blogging. No one is going to die on an operating table, eh?
This message was brought to you by the Newbie Blogger Initiative and Dr Burro’s Campaign to Chill Out and Live Longer.
Ahhh, another one of those posts I’ve been thinking about writing for ages but never getting around to only then to decide to start at the exact same time as everyone else on the interwebz This time it was the excellent rambling joyful mess of Too Long Didn’t Listen* who discussed the issue of playing across genders that fired me up and finally made me put finger to keyboard.
I’ve said before how I never play women in games, unless that is the default option such as in Portal or Mirror’s Edge and how this isn’t because I dislike playing women, more that I feel more comfortable playing a man. Well the upcoming release of Guild Wars 2 and my desire to play a Sylvari is making me have second thoughts and this has caused me to look at why I don’t normally play lasses and why a leafy elf should make me consider doing so.
So why don’t I play a lass? Is it a loss of my natural studliness? An inability to connect to being a lass? A fear of being hit on by horny basement dwellers intent of some one hand typing fun? Well all of those and none if my honest answer. Especially the latter which never happens & a quick “I’m a fella, fella…” would deal with.
Well, for starters I don’t feel ‘right’ in a woman character. Maybe I didn’t mind in Portal & ME because they were both shown from the first person perspective and so I never actually saw myself as a woman, but in an MMO where I see myself from behind I just don’t like seeing myself as a sexy lady warrior with a lovely bum. I find it very hard to separate the sexy from the sex, so to speak. Women in most games, as in most media, are depicted deliberately as gorgeous and I am a red blooded male which means I like to see at gorgeous lasses. But when I’m battling orcs, I don’t want a lovely wee bottom putting me off, yet I seem incapable of stopping my inner voice saying “phwoar, what a lovely arse you have there, eh?” to itself. Frankly I find it less distracting if I stick to a fella and let my subconscious go back to sleep where is can daydream in peace about Miranda Kerr in nowt but Jimmy Choos.
But what about your roleplay? your stories? long time readers might ask. Well, I can only say that here I fall down as a roleplayer, it is as simple as that. I wouldn’t go so far as to say *all* the characters I’ve created are Mary Sues, but some of them obviously are to a greater or lesser extent. Where I feel I broke away from this was with Dr Beck and his girlfriend, but the rest of the time I’m been Mary Sueing it**, and this includes my time in LOTRO. Maybe one day I would like to write a story from a female POV, but as I’ve hardly written a thing for a year let’s assume it’s not top of my list, eh?
So the bottom line (no pun intended) is that I play a male character I can not only identify with, but can also project some desired aspect of my internal fantasy life on to. Conversely I don’t play a woman because I’m not interested in roleplaying from a female point of view and I find myself daydreaming about what she’d look like in a bikini instead of concentrating on hitting orcs.
Well done me, I’m a vain caveman. Wonderful.
* They also link to an article on the brilliant Mary Sue blog.
** Which I don’t mind as I wrote them for my amusement.
Wow… tomorrow marks exactly a year since my story marathon Steal Head ended. A whole year. Now that has really gone by quickly. To think how much has changed since then – how much of a high I was on. A few more months writing Gang Wars and that would be it for my time in Steelhead and SL, pissed off by a couple of tossers so much that I decided to give another game a try, a little thing called LOTRO… I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I actually have a lot to thank Sheriff Numbnuts and the One-Armed Wanker for 
Do you know what… it’ll be my 5th anniversary in SL on the 19th too. Blimey.
Before I start let me explain that the tales of daring do, lucky escapes and painful losses you are about to read are not presented in-character, but rather as a straight (if occasionally dramtically emphasised) retelling of gameplay incidents separated by several days. It’s possible some of the elements contained may well find their way into my in-character entries from Ranhold’s journal, but for now it’s best to see these as the daily ‘rushes’ of a film we are working on together with the eventual editing, condensing & distillation of their content the grand project we shall show acros the silver screens of the Nation to an enthralled and rapt public. What? Aww come on! Leave a man his dream, won’t you?
Anyhoo, east of the ruined refuge of Ost Guruth, the last retreat of the Eglain people besieged and battered by the atacks of orc raiders and corrupted nature in the Lone Lands there lies Haragmar, a strange swamp in a deep, terraced hollow. The waters of this marshy bogland are stained a deep red, it is said by the blood of an ancient & terrible battle, and its inhabitants are wild and fierce. As you rise back out of the hollow on your eastward path, travelling parallel to the Great East Road to your south you find your way blocked by a fallen stronghold, crumpled and ruined and now entirely in the vile hands of lesser Gaunt Lords and their undead thralls. This Nan Dhelu is and you enter only with caution and preferable companions…
Scene 1: A Need of Friends…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My first trip here I knew something was amiss when the steep terraces that led up away from The Circle of Blood were crawling with bloated, rotting wights. I battled a few, but they were tougher than the last ones I had encountered in Bree-Land and I soon found myself staring at the imposing edifice of the ruined fort and wondering how I would make it through alive if these were just the guards! Luckily my prayers were answered as with a cry of challenge and a crack of metal on sheild a warrior came charging up the hillside and began to lay into the walking dead as though possessed! I ran over and lent him my swords and over the crumbling corpses of the slain wights I offered him a Fellowship. Now whether he too had his doubts about pushing on alone, or he just took pity on one a few levels below himself, I do not know but he agreed and offered to help me in my explorations and quests.
And believe me when I say I needed all the help I could get! The wights are packed in tight so attacking one usually draws the attention of one or two others . The archers stay back and pick off your armour and health with cruel, hard shots. The spewers belch out clouds of rotting gasses in a great, monstrous roar to leave you weakened and susceptible to further poisons. The bloated ones, as they approach their final moments on the end of your sword, buckle backwards and from their distended bellies explodes an enormous curled multi-legged worm-like insect that immediately bites and stings. In a tight spot, with poor planning and bad luck, you can easily find yourself facing five enemies at once and those odds can be hard to beat.
Still, together my companion and I made it through my first run at the fort with no loss of life (well, on our side at least – we sent plenty of wights on their way let me tell you!) and soon we parted, he back to the Great East Road and I back to nearby Ost Guruth to repair my gear, sell my loot and carry on with my quests. Little did I know how soon I would have to return to the confined horrors of Nan Dehlu…
Scene 2: A Rear Guard Assault…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tasks seemed simple enough – enter Nan Dehlu, kill x-number of wights, y-number of Gaunt Lords and retrieve z-number of various items. I was by now a couple of levels higher so this should be easy, right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I had been sent into the ruins by a lonely Eglain guerilla Northrim from his holdout in Dol Vaeg on a series of quests. As I skirted the edge of the ruins, attempting to work out my best point of entry I heard the unmistakable sounds of battle nearby. I rounded a corner and found a young woman, a captain of her people it seemed, battling undead wights with her bannerman. I leapt in and helped dispatch her enemies and asked if she would consider joining me. I was mightily relieved when she said yes and we pressed on together retreading the frantic path I had taken before… except this time I pushed on further than before and with every step deeper into the fortress we drew more enemies towards us. The battles were many and fierce, my companion had her work cut out healing me fast enough to allow me to cut the wights and Gaunt Men down, but in the end we were victorious and our time had come to leave… and that is when our woes began.
I knew a short cut out, one the captain may not have been aware of but one I had used a few times before. I leapt down one wall, skirted a roving wight and leapt down onto a raised mound of earth at the edge of the inner court below – from there it was a simple run through the gaps in the ruined walls and we would be out. Except this time two wights had found their way to this normally quiet spot and launched themselves at me! Still, two wights were no match for my swords and I dispatched them relatively quickly, a sudden green glow of light around me telling me the captain had found me and was working hard to heal me as I fought them. I turned to say thanks and was horrified to see, charging over the mound towards us having been alerted by the captain’s carelessly wandering banner bearer, 3 wights and a gaunt man!
The fight that ensued was hard, bitter, dirty and nasty. A bile wight poisoned us badly, the two rotting wights loosed crawlers at our feet, the gaunt man sent in his skeletal warrior and raised a badly decomposing wight corpse to attack us. I did everything in my power, I used every combat skill I’d ever learnt and sent my fingers dancing across keys as though they were on fire, but alas it was not enough and the the banner man fell. He was closely followed by the brave captain and suddenly I was alone. My power was low, my health failing but I fought like a man possessed! I didn’t put a skill wrong as I used every AoE trick in the book to burn down the foul undead around me until I was left facing just the Gaunt Man. By this point it was hard to say who was in the worse condition, both our morale/health was dipping low and our power was all but burnt out, but I had three things he did not, the Second Wind skill, one remaining power pot and the “Oh Crap!” button otherwise know as Dire Need.
As the last of the wights fell I hit Second Wind and the pot in rapid succession and watched my blue bar rise back up to just over 50%, not much but it would have to do. Next I hit the Dire Need button, my power vanished and my morale/health rose by the corresponding amount. If the previous rise in my power had been less than large, this morale boost was worryingly small but it was all I had left and would have to do.
I began to lay into the snarling Gaunt Man with everything I had left. I doubt more than thirty seconds could have passed, but they felt like thirty minutes as I watched our respective health bars hold their morbid race to the bottom. At 1% of my remaining health, a mere 90 points at the time, the Gaunt Man yielded to one last final blow from my swords and as he collapsed into a pile of leathery bones I sat back unable to quite believe my luck. I never saw my brave captain friend again, but let her defeat serve as a warning that if you venture too far east in the Lone Lands you will do well to take some friends with you.
And if you think Nan Delhu is tough, it’s a walk to the shops when compared to Garth Argarwen…
Extract from Ranhold’s Journal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After the horrors of Haudh Iarchith it has been a blessing to return to the Shire, despite my earlier grumbles and gripes. My soul was greatly affected by the terrors I & my friend Enthallion faced and I have slept poorly ever since. It was as I wandered the hills south of Michel Delving in an effort to keep my promise to my mother and stay out of the local taverns that I found myself watching the industrious locals of that town toiling in the fields and I was taken back to my youth helping my grandfather on his small holding.
Before I knew it, and almost without a conscious decision, I found myself asking if I could help. The halflings, whilst surprised, were most generous in their acceptance of a tall stranger treading their fields and soon I found myself dressed in a hastily stitched smock working the land with them. After all the death and killing, it felt good to be working on giving something back to the land, something clean and alive and uncorrupted.
I worked in all weathers to sow the sow the seeds of many a crop, from simple vegetables to the halfing’s most prized breeds of pipe-weed…
I showed such an aptitude (my Grandfather had tought me well and would be proud) that farmer Proudfoot sent me over to Hobbiton to seek out one of his relatives, Olo Proudfoot, and I have spent many a happy day working on his farm learning new skills and helping to grow much improved crops.
Master Olo is a wise and kind teacher and grows some of the best pipe-weed in the district (although I would be careful how loudly I say that and who may be in earshot – these Hobbits can be mighty fearsome in their loyalty to one type of pipe-weed and it is a brave man indeed who would challenge them on their choice!). Form my part I have a particular, and to my kinsmen from Dale a no doubt perverse, liking for the Dragon’s Breath weed…
Still, whilst it has done my heart and soul good to step back from the fire and fury of combat, I know this lull is but temporary and I have many roads yet to travel. But for now I am going to remain in the Shire, especially as these wee folk are all a-flutter in the planning of a great Summer Festival due any day. After that… well then I shall see… I think I shall make my way either to the east as I have an invitation from the Scholar’s Guild to honour in Rivendell, or north towards my heart’s desire of Annúminas on fair Evendim.
Extract from the journal of Ranhold, Champion from Dale.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whilst I’ve been running hither and yon all across The Shire (mainly delivering pies or post!) I’ve seen many a wonderful sight in this beautiful part of Middle Earth, but none has warmed the heart of this old warrior as much the following exchange I witnessed in Overhill recently…
|
