Adventures in RP Servers

The history of role-playing games is long and full of tribulation; not since the Blitz has the nation mourned so profoundly than when it lost its youngest generation to RP servers over the internet. And now YOU TOO can join in with the tears because baby’s got a brand new WoW character.

I’ve played WoW for years on a standard meat-and-potatoes server, but never made the full transition to RP until now. So far really the only difference between Role-Playing, Normal and PVP realms is that instead of mingling with twelve-year-old petulant and unruly jerks, RP servers also offer woeful guilds with initiation rights like:

The Baptism of Salt

At the first opportunity after gaining level 10 (in WoW, or roughly 8 hours played time in other games), the character will be taken to a body of water (preferably the ocean or a saltwater sea) along with a Drowned Priest. There, the lowly Saltwife will die by drowning (stay underwater until the breath meter runs out and die). Then the Drowned Priest will resurrect the character and promote them to Ironborn saying, “What is dead can never die; but rises again, harder, and stronger”

And

[We] are exactly like fantasy vikings

But more specifically the difference is that you create a character back-story and stick rigidly to that. Having played my character for two days now it’s really proof if proof were needed that it only takes a few easy steps to successfully transform in to a thirty-year-old agoraphobic shut in and World of Warcraft is pretty much your #1 entry-point to this brave new world of courting guildmates entirely in ASCII characters.

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Thanks to the truly amazing customising abilities of WoW you can create dwarfs with about three entirely different facial expressions, all of which just look like the various angry-faces of Georgy Lvov. I opted to create the man of my dreams: Rasputino, who is like a tiny wet baby stuck inside a beard.

In Rasputino’s back-story, his facial hair was prized for its almost impossible symmetry like a perfect vertical Y-axis. For this very reason he has never trimmed a single hair. Rasputino is often compared to Billy Gibbons, but that’s the price you pay for fame. Along with this, he was said to have the most geometrical eyes in all the animal kingdom. Rasputino once ended the Great War when the imperialist tsar took one look in to his ruby squares which melted his otherwise cold and indifferent heart of stone. Looking in to Rasputino’s eyes I think…maybe…..maybe I too can love again.

Rasputino is a cruel genius. He’s the kind of man who will invite a friend over for pizza and eat all the food so no one else can. If they reach for the pizza box Rasputino will stare at them really mean and slap it out of their hand. Rasputino knows justice. So when his companions make demands on him he will stab them repeatedly in the neck before composing a sonnet in their blood.

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The forum for my server asks for a formal write-up of your character.

Name: Rasputino

Race
: Dwarf

Class: Priest

Professions
: Herbalist

Current Home?: Ironforge

Age: 47

Brief History: Rasputino was a man of epicurean taste who spent most of his days eating truffles off of a diamond encrusted inlaid serving tray balanced on the back of the Tsarina he was balls deep in. Things changed when one day while he was drinking sherry from the skull of a saint and having a vision of a sad goat he was stabbed by his fellow statesmen and left for dead. Now he wanders the frozen plains of Russia like a lone wolf, in cognito after taking on the alias Rasputino. What was his real name? No one knows.

Spurned and alone, Rasputino is forced to live amongst the people as they do. His task now is to join forces with his countrymen to revolt against the crippling imperial dynasty that was once his home. But who will join him? Luckily,  no sooner had Rasputino stepped foot in the deepest sector of Eastern Europe’s frozen heart had he befriended the king of the wolves, Amaroq son of Dachshund the Great. Rasputino bowed to the king whose kindness and just heart was known through out the land and then danced ’til twilight on his frozen corpse after beating him over the head with his oversized mallet when Amaroq stared vacantly back at him in return, not understanding the concept of bowing because he is a dog.

Abandoned by his newly formed guild, Rasputino is left only with a single trusted advisor, the warrior Hjhgjk

Introduction

Introduction: Hi.

If you happen to be searching for a new blog to follow which only caters to about 4% of your actual interests then you might just have hit the jackpot. Geraface is going to my attempt to write regularly about games, but at least half of it will probably be devoted to soul crushing angst and Babybell.Why be a games journalist? Because real life is rubbish.

I’ve been writing freelance since January 2010 after playing Rick Dangerous for about a year solid. It’s pretty much the same tale every game journalist will tell you: Majored in English, can’t be bothered to write a novel, had a vaguely popular twitter for a month about Peter Molyneux being infested with ghosts and decided to try writing about games for a living.

If you want to contact me about work or anything feel free to send me an email at: emilyface@gmail.com