Magesty wrote: ↑Mon 8 Oct 2018 4:48 PM
WHAM! I pound my meaty fist into my desk.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!The sudden exertion has left me breathless and sweating. I rub my now sore mouse hand while staring at my empty inventory. All that I had worked so hard for over the past few months had been callously ripped away from me by faceless overlords. My items? Gone. My carefully calculated dye scheme? Gone. I had plans for today. Big ones. After slogging through a week of long hours at my shitty job and coming home each night to my lazy, irritable wife, I had hoped to log on to each of my eight characters and play them for approximately fifty four minutes a piece. Unfortunately it looks like even that simple pleasure has been denied me by the thoughtlessness of others. This was going to be
MY time and it has been
TAKEN from me.
Fortunately I am of stalwart character. As the adrenaline and anger fade from my mind I feel my vision once again become focused and clear. I am an arrow speeding towards my target. Taking a deep breath I think to myself over and over again: "I am an arrow. I am an arrow". Now fully ready, I move my first first character to the i50 merchant. Upon clicking and seeing all the choices I almost fall out of my chair. I wasn't expecting to have to mull over so many options. I begin to falter. The familiar feeling of confusion begins to seep into the edges of my mind. My vision begins to glaze over as I try to comprehend each item's unique stats-- The first five pieces of armor have the same AF and quality, but what about the sixth? What if that one is different? Sighing, I push aside old wrappers and cups in search of something to write with. My hand, still sore, finds what I'm seeking: A capless red Bic (I find the red ink is easier to see than blue or black when using only computer monitors for light.)
An hour later I have managed to review each item individually. A pile of fast food napkins with stats and calculations scrawled upon them rest in a heap next to my left hand. I'm finally ready to equip my character. I click and drag each item to the proper slot. As I place each piece into its proper place I can feel my heart sinking into my stomach. The pieces aren't dyed! They aren't fucking dyed!
"ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" I yell, tears beginning to well. I slap my hands against my thighs (even in my white-hot rage I keenly remember the stinging pain from my outburst earlier) The injustice of it all makes me want to explode.
Between my gasps for breath I hear a thud in the other room. My wife has gotten up from the couch. My outburst must have been quite loud to get her to peel herself away from staring at reruns of 'The Great British Bake Off'. As her plodding steps approach the threshold of my computer room I try to regain composure, but I can't.
Light pours into my darkened room as she opens the door, "Why are you yelling?" she asks me, her tone draped with accusation. Even seeing her shadow on the wall in front of me fills me with revulsion. What has happened to the woman I used to love? Days spent on the couch have rendered her form unrecognizable. Subtle features and curves I once cherished have become blown out and bloated. I have grown to hate her almost as much as I hate myself.
Averting my eyes from the wall, but not turning around I growl: "Shut the fucking door and go back to watching your show. You have no idea what I'm dealing with right now."
As my eyes adjust back to illumination provided by my computer screen I move my character to the dye merchants. Reaching down, I dig around in one of the greasy discarded paper bags next to me for more napkins to write on. I open they dye merchant menu and begin to scrawl the name and price of each and every dye so I can adequately tabulate exactly which ones I need and their associated costs. My arms begin to tremble as I think about how much of My Day I'm losing to this travesty. The dye process will take me another thirty minutes on this one character alone.
I had hoped to find solace from the misery of the impending work week, from the misery of the 160 hours I spent this week not playing computer games, but even that has been denied me. As I'm writing the cost of charcoal dye my pen tears the napkin and renders all the prices I had written to this point unreadable.
Overcome by angst and adrenaline, I alt-tab, open the forums, and begin to type.