There Is A Part 5 To This Part 6

Now that I'm secure in both college and housing, finished with the bulk period of my job, and bored to death of you fuckers who are back again....I am fighting with myself over reactivating my WoW account. Not for any lengthy period of time - I definitely don't plan to play it anything but sporadically in Humboldt (As I assume I'll be wading waist-deep in beautiful, willing girls) - but it would be nice to have something to tide me over until then.Yet even with that clearly flawless logic, I can't seem to get up the nerve to type in my credit card info again. I've finally figured out why: I haven't continued the Neverending Stoooooorrrrrrryyyyyyyy:

THE AGE OF CHANGE, or More Like Wrath Of The Bitch King, Am I Right Guys? Guys?

My last dispatch ended on an optimistic, slightly glass-eyed note. I flew off into the stark Arctic sun, freshly 80, ready to begin the arduous but rewarding task of clawing myself once more up the infinite ladder that is Warcraft.
That's pretty much what happened. The Burning Crusade, now that I can analyze it from a well-focused hindsight perspective, was revolutionary in every imaginable many ways. But it was far from perfect - we just didn't know it at the time. The introduction of flight changed the daily experience of the game - it allowed for three-dimensional landscapes, separated by large stretches of land that were punishing to traverse by land but delightfully playful to soar over on wings of Nether. Each zone of Outland was strikingly different - Nagrand was lush and rolling, Netherstorm was barren and alien, Blades Edge was fascinatingly beautiful and a piece-of-shit-to-navigate, etc.
Northrend blows Outland out of the fucking water.

The developers of Northrend, proud and protective of their work, saw to it that we didn't just jump off the side of our landing party ships, mount up, and fly straight into the razor-sharp maw of ice and cold fire that is Icecrown Citadel, the stronghold of the Lich King himself.
Which was basically what we planned to do. One must keep in mind the state of things near the end of TBC. We (I, indeed, personally) had vanquished the FUCK out of nearly all of the major lore antagonists (and, lets be honest, most of the protagonists too.) of Warcraft history. Illidan got his shit pushed in. Kael'thas betrayed us, or tried to, so we had to kill him TWICE. KIL'JAEDEN THE DECEIVER, ACTING LEADER OF THE BURNING LEGION, WAS LITERALLY PUSHED THE FUCK BACK INTO THE NETHER. What I'm getting at is that, at the very end of TBC there were those of us who (rightfully) wielded the light eternal, the power overwhelming, the raw destructive forces of the arcane, and a giant fucking mace with spikes all over it.
So, to be told upon landing on the misty shores of the Howling Fjord that our mounts were "too damn cold to fly right now" and that we would have to wait until lvl 77 to purchase Cold Weather training for a thousand gold....we were slightly miffed. Did these people, be they Kalu'ak, Vrykul, or Dragonkin themselves, not know Who The Fuck We Were?

We learned quickly that they didn't. And, more importantly, they didn't give a shit, because they could stomp our puny carcasses into red mush faster than we could say "I am Harticus, Defender of the Weak and Paladin of the Li-OH GOD, MY BLOOD, YOU SERIOUSLY JUST TOOK ALL OF MY BLOOD OUT OF ME".

Northrend was beautiful, and hard, and different, and cinematic, and every adjective I've attributed to it previously. I really blew through every area with exactly the kind of fervor I promised I wouldn't, but I have since made up for it by revisiting each one in painstaking detail - yeah, thanks Daily Quests.
I reached 80 quickly, and legitimately felt like I had earned it thanks to the overall epicness that permeated every zone, quest, and dungeon I visited. The additions to each class are abundant and game-changing, and most importantly, in my favor as a Retribution Paladin.
When you're a holy warrior of the light, an entire continent of ravenous, mindless undead is basically a big inviting playground. Northrend is a place where you can get some serious smiting done. I SMOTE. All the screenshots I took of me in combat are useless; all you can see of me is a whirling glowing golden avatar of righteousness.
Actually, William's Death Knight Zekeil and I smote together a lot of the time. We were both still in Neurotic, on new characters, at the Friend rank. Technically we were Djinn's friends, but since he didn't play anymore we were just got stuck on the bottom rung in a high-end guild full of shitfuckers people we didn't know.
Neurotic had changed since their halcyon days of Sunwell. Gurgoth left. Djinn left. Littlemee left. Forrk left. The highest-ups retired to be cast in bronze etc. etc., the point is that it was under new management, and half of them were pricks and half of them were busy.

Good thing WotLK instances were basically puggable with any combination of madmen and idiots, with any group composition, with any gear. If you have half a brain, you could get as far as halfway through the highest raid instance at the time. WotLK was substantially easier ON AVERAGE, which is to say that everyone acquired gear at a faster rate, killed more bosses, had more stuff to do, felt more powerful, and overall actually had more fun than previous iterations. The learning curve had softened, is all. The really dumb stayed shitty and the really great were still amazingly powerful.

Lacking the real drive and time for serious raiding anymore, Zeke and I soon settled into a comfortable medium-high level of game immersion. There was always something to do that was new that could potentially yield a tangible upgrade to our characters. We were able to actively watch ourselves get more powerful as we slowly replaced our quest blues with heroic purples. And it took time, and there were several hilarious occurrences that people who don't play WoW would not laugh at. (I spent four hours in an Occulus run, I made Zeke run H UK fourteen times for pants I wanted, I won an incredibly rare protodrake first time I set foot in the Pinnacle, blah blah)

Eventually we reached, after a few months, a plateau. We had gotten the most possible out of the game at our current level of commitment - we had best in slot gear. Not THE best in slot, of course, because we didn't raid - our gear was still medium good - but it couldn't get any better unless we devoted more time. Which is the drawback of every MMO, but we knew that going in. So our enthusiasm wound down in direct correlation with our immediate rewards. Every now and then, we would wiggle our way into part of a Neurotic alt raid, but since nobody really gave a shit about us anymore (and thanks to my naturally condescending and grating somewhat standoffish personality) we never got very far. This feeling was not limited to just us - everyone was getting impatient for new content. People were running around with Immortal titles and Twilight Drakes, all the stuff was done.

So we dithered around until Patch 3.1 dropped like the massive load of reinforcements it was. Ulduar gave us all loregasms and some of us incredible loot. The Tournament gave us gold and cool shit. Dual Spec allowed for even more flexible group comp and a breath of fresh air into our classes. Now, at the touch of a button, Harticus could sheath his bloody spear and pull out a sword and board, going from Ret to Prot and back again. In the same vein, Zeke could now switch from immovable block of ice to unstoppable deathbringer. I started tanking and he started doing damage, and we were annoyingly well-matched in all respects. I got lucky one raid and got handed the best tanking weapon in the game.

But we still didn't actually play for longer amounts of time, and so our rewards were still respectively medium. We each rolled shaman alts that we lavished heirlooms and twink items upon, then petered out around lvl 28. Holidays came and went and we got new swag. Other things in life were more interesting and important, for once. I rolled a second alt one night, fueled by hunter nostalgia, but she too lost my interest.

Eventually after one too many frustrating moments both in and out of the guild, Will and I realized that we damn sure weren't going to keep spending 15 dollars a month over the summer. You could buy a fifth of vodka for 15 dollars! And it would yield the same amount of entertainment, with a much higher chance of females!
SO, with no particular fanfare or sorrow, we let our accounts run dry a week or two before people started landing back on Maui for the summer. Will ran out before I did, so I spent my last week tying up loose ends and doing all manner of odd accomplishments.

Of course, now I'm sick of you layabouts again, and Patch 3.2 has promised to pluck for me the very stars from the sky. We're going to run away together to Paris and open a small bistro, earning just enough to get by. Our love will overcome all obstacles and we'll have more fun than you can ever imagine.

So I'll probably start playing again.