My Life as a Mule

You call us "mules" because we hold your stuff. You probably think its endeering, because you're too politically correct to think of yourself as owning slaves.
Your slaves have feelings, they have a voice. And now, because they really have absolutely nothing better to do with their time, they have a blog.
Mule revolution is coming.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Not even trying

When I woke up this morning, I had the strangest compulsion to try my hand at fishing. It's not such a strange thing. You cast a line, you exhaust a living creature to the point where you can lift him into the air by a cheek piercing, then you hand him over to the crazy Tarutaru by the guild and run for the zone so you can do it all again.

There's boredom, pain, death, money, and fame. Only thing missing is fire.

I checked my delivery box to make sure the master hadn't sent me a bunch of imp wings or tiger fangs to sell. I promptly screamed, much to my embarrassment and the amusment of the moogle.

Moogle didn't even warn me.

In my delivery box, like a scene out of Indiana Jones, were piles and piles of insects squirming around and sliming one another. It was like watching a bunch of adventurers in Valkurm Dunes.

Also, there was a fishing pole.

I checked my messages.

Jeine>> Had a feeling you would want to go fishing today, so I sent you a pole and some bait.

That's just spooky.

No, I don't believe Jeine is psychic. Don't be retarded. What's spooky is you can mail live insects to people, unpackaged and unwrapped - you just put them in the mail and they show up in someone else's Mog House.

I wrote her a note of "thanks", took the pole and the bait, and headed off toward the fountain in Windurst Woods.

Appears I wasn't the only one who felt like fishing today. A circle of nine fishermen surrounded the fountain.

I took a spot on the bridge, cast my line into the river, and waited, an eerie feeling creeping over me.

The sound of nine fishing rods being cast simultaneously is surprisingly ominous.

I looked around at my fellow fishermen. All were hume males with face 1a. Their names were unpronounceable mashings of the keyboard. I decided to try to speak to them.

Reeree>> 怎么i 矿为鱼?
Reeree seems lost in thought.
Reeree>> Assalamu alaikum!

Nine fishing poles cast with such perfect synchronization - this could be an Olympic event.

Reeree>> script run ./fish?

Hgghhshhgh caught a Bastore Sardine!
Oddly, all the other eight waited patiently, doing nothing while Hgghhshhgh realed in his sardine.

09 F9 11 02 9D 74 E3 5B D8 41 56 C5 63 56 88 C0?

It was clear they weren't going to answer me. I no longer held any desire for fishing today. Somehow, it just seemed dirty.

I placed a GM call to ask how they would prefer such obvious instances of botter cheating be reported.

Almost instantly there was red shimmering armor in front of me.
Lokoi]>> Hail Adventurer!
Reeree>> Please don't feed me to a dragon!!
GM[Lokoi]>> Dave doesn't exist. How can I help you today?
Reeree>> See those people fishing over there?

He watched for about 5 seconds.

GM[Lokoi] starts casting Warpga.

Nine hume fishing bots vanished in perfect synchronization - this could be an Olympic event.

GM[Lokoi]>> Nope.
GM[Lokoi]>> Is there anything else I can help you with today?
Reeree>> No, thanks. I'm good.

I think about the cost of purchasing 9 copies of the game, setting up nine characters all on the same server, and having all your accounts banned in one shot. It almost makes me smile.

1 comment:

Brindaa said...

They needed a bath anyway...taking all the good fishies!!