Posts filed under 'Massively Multiplayer'
The grand illusion in roleplaying games (single-player CRPGs, MMORPGs, and even to some extent tabletop RPGs) is that you face greater challenges as your character becomes more powerful. The truth, though, is that the end game content of MMORPGs is almost exactly as challenging as the first few levels, which is to say, “Not very.” In this post, I’ll continue thinking about what would make a dream MMO.
An idealized, perfect video game would present its player with a pleasurable rise and fall of challenge and difficulty. After the initial learning curve, players ought alternately to face challenges that give them a thrill and to enjoy the fruits of meeting said challenges. The fact that different people find different degrees of challenge in a single activity presents designers with one of their great challenges.
As Tobold points out, when a game has a multimillion–dollar budget, its publishers want more than just the praise of a few hardcore aficionados and sage critics. They need customers—and lots of them. Make the game too difficult and too many people will give up.
The converse isn’t actually true (except in the absurd). Making a game too easy will drive hardly anyone away, as long as there are perceived challenges to be met. In an MMO, you can strive to reach the level cap, scheme to get some rare piece of gear, or strive to down the greatest foes (again and again).
Thus, developers opt, time and time again, for easy games with mass appeal. A wise decision. I have some real-life friends, dedicated WoW players, who occasionally find the game’s challenges to be just within their abilities! This leaves gamers like me, who actively enjoy testing their gaming skills, a bit out in the cold. I think, though, that there’s a design solution, not too hard to implement, that would render games fun for a broad audience interested in a low-difficulty game that’s simultaneously satisfying for the more hardcore gamer.
For the most part, MMORPG game goals are achieved through time investment and social engineering. In fact, outside of special encounters designed for groups, the enemies you face at the level cap are just as easy to defeat as the kobolds upon whom you committed genocide back when you were level 2. Probably easier, in fact, because you’ve been granted a greater breadth of tools to deal with enemies. Yes, you advance through levels and watch your statistics climb, but the player skill required for a level 70 character to defeat a level 70 monster is only slightly greater than that required for a level 1 character to defeat a level 1 foe.
The greatest challenge for me in getting to the level cap in WoW, in hitting the cap of various professions, in exploring intriguing instances, was in finding sufficient time.
There are, of course, other reasons to play MMOs than for the challenge. After all, WoW held my interest all the way from level 1 to level 70. But let’s face it, there’s a reason so many WoW players create artificial challenges for themselves. They still want to play the game (because they have friends there, because they’re addicted, because they find the game relaxing and pleasurable even if it’s not altogether interesting).
This lack of challenge doesn’t sit well with everyone. Some turn to PVP (although even the staunchest PVP advocates agree that most MMOs don’t implement it very well). Some simply abandon MMOs.
The solution can be found in the many existing games that let players level-set their own challenge level. Many recent FPS video games do this explicitly, but a great many games, including nonvideo games, scale to meet the skill levels of their players. Two-person strategy games, for instance, allow players to choose opponents who present a pleasurable (not necessarily evenly matched) challenge.
An MMORPG should offer a player hundreds of possible goals. The very visible goals of leveling, improving equipment, and seeing rare content serve the explicit design goal of keeping players happy while they pay monthly subscription fees, but a flatter approach offering even the newest player dozens of goals of varying challenge levels could do just the same.
Instead of rushing players to the leveling treadmill, why not explicitly offer them a choice of activities with different degrees and sorts of challenge?
- Easy: the chance to clear ten rats out of the basement for a modest experience reward
- Moderate: the chance to rescue a villager from angry goblins for more experience and a decent weapon
- Hard: the chance to call out the head of a local gang for more experience and a valuable reputation game
- Nearly (but not quite) impossible: the chance to head off on an difficult overland journey to capture a wild horse which can ultimately be tamed to be a mount, granting no experience reward whatsoever
These are all straightforward adventure quests, of course. A rich game with a fulfilling crafting system, thrilling PVP competition, social goals that foster guild loyalty and teamwork, achievement ladders, and strong exploration and narrative elements could present an even bigger menu to the new character. Each possible path to advancement should present the player with tasks of different challenge for the player.
It’s always a numbers game, of course, but it’s possible to balance activities so that a player who enjoys greater challenge will receive approximately the same reward for time invested as a player who prefers to relax with a series of comparatively easy quests. Since MMO designers have a vested interest in keeping people playing as long as possible, they are hesitant to grant greater advancement rewards to players willing to pursue greater challenges.
Instead of galloping quickly up the one mountain that counts (leveling, in all existing MMOs of note), challenge-oriented players may, for instance, earn prestige items (that horse from questing may have a different look than one purchased from the local vendor), titles, and even access to Easter-egg style content. Taking on a greater challenge may result in more rapid “advancement,” but it doesn’t have to equate to a more rapid consumption of content.
After all, the main reward for taking on more challenging gameplay should be the pleasure of more challenging gameplay itself.
Of course, the question remains: what challenges, exactly, can a game present? What activities can invite a player to use his own skill, rather than the aribtrary number next to his character’s skill, to meet a challenge? I’ll delve into that a bit—and into questions of an alternative system of rewards that doesn’t focus only on power acquisition, into tools to enhance the dying social dimension in MMOs, and the concept of a broad range of advancement paths—in upcoming posts.
For now, I’ll just end where I began: By simply granting players greater choice in the level of difficult of the activities they pursue in game, a dream MMO can maintain mass-market appeal without sacrificing challenging gameplay.
January 11th, 2008
When I have an evening free of Scarlet Pimpernel rehearsals, Thanksgiving guests, and home renovations, I still quite often choose to spend it in virtual Middle Earth. I haven’t talked about it much lately in part because I’ve been re-exploring content as I (for no sane reason) pursue the “Undying” title bestowed on those who can survive to level 20 without defeat.
That said, I’ve had a bit more time to play in the last few days, and during that time I’ve tried to bring three players over from WoW. They’re partway through 10-day free trials, and it’s interesting to hear their reactions.
My wife, whose tastes strongly resemble my own, believes she’ll switch in the near future. She likes, as I do, the greater realism, the immersion, and some of the minor gameplay tweaks (everyone can loot a mob for a “gather ten pelts” sort of quest; the fact that there don’t seem to be targeted, timed buffs).
Another friend has had a grand time. She basically only plays ranged fighters (she has four different hunter alts in WoW), and she’s already experimented with two hunters in LotRO. Her comments have been positive overall, but I don’t know if she’ll be willing to give up WoW.
Her husband is pretty sure he doesn’t like LotRO. His criticisms: the font, the color of dialog boxes, steering with the arrow keys (he refuses to use the mouse), and not already knowing as much about it as he does about WoW. (Can you tell that I’m a bit dismissive of his complaints?)
All of this reminds me of how different the needs of different gamers are, and incidentally why I’ve had a falling out with WoW. WoW caters to a the broadest possible audience in part by catering to a low common denominator.
My recruitment efforts outside the game may meet with only limited success, but I hope my plan to get recruited into a kinship within the game will go well. I was delighted to discover that a kinship recruitment event will take place in the Shire (under the grand Party Tree) tonight on the Landroval server (one of the unofficial RP servers) at 7.30 EST.
Ever since my all-time favorite guild (formed in Dark Age of Camelot) disbanded as its members sought other games, I’ve been looking for something like it. I joined two WoW guilds, both of which turned out awful in different ways. Perhaps tonight I’ll make a connection with a roleplaying guild that actually enjoys playing the game in character (instead of not playing the game but emoting at one another or playing the game and not really roleplaying after all).
November 28th, 2007
The One Ring. Luke Skywalker’s inherited lightsaber. The Aegis. Indiana Jones’s bull whip. The skin of the Nemean Lion.
Of such stuff are legends made. The so-called legendary objects that litter the lairs of MMO monsters and the vaults of MMO PCs, on the other hand, are for the most part nothing more than incremental improvements over lower-tiered weapons, armor, and other equipment we can cram into our character’s slots. There’s very little magic about these magical items.
The way almost all MMOs (and most CRPGs) work, there’s really very little choice. Equipment is a big (and ideally fun) part of roleplaying games. But, as realized in design built around timesinks, graduated progression, and balance, most equipment is, plain and simple, completely uninteresting.
To me, fantasy magic items and exciting science-fiction gizmos should let my character do things she’s never been able to do. Oh, I know we’ll never get away from good old-fashioned +1 longswords (which may be better simply by virtue of superior craftsmanship), but shouldn’t the really exciting, storied items give us completely new powers? Where are the rocket boots that let me fly and the gemstone that, when I clutch it in my hand, lets me dissolve into a shadow and slip under a door?
On occasion, when playing MMOs, I’ve been sucked into the pursuit of equipment that improves a certain statistic my character might have. For many, pursuing improved bonuses to a certain set of statistics represents a significant portion of the game.
How insanely boring! But it reveals what is, to me, the great truth and great failure of MMOs. They are not about stories, not about character, not even about the worlds they portray. They are about (very) gradually increasing your character’s power for the sake of increasing your character’s power.
Though that may be what draws some players to tabletop RPGs as well, such games manage to avoid the tedium of mind-numbingly dull equipment, largely thanks to the fact that a given game has fewer players, a world that can be permitted to change, and at least a pretense of narrative.
This shortcoming in MMOs helps explain why I’ve never bothered to have an item enchanted in WoW. While I value equipment statistics insofar as they let me know if a new sword is better than the one I have, I take no pleasure in squeezing out another small bonus to some statistic that is used to calculate yet another statistic that will help me end fights in 97.5% of the time I’d otherwise be able to finish them.
The real downside for me is that, once I’ve taken a character to the maximum level and played with all the abilities that come with a given class, I have very little reason to continue playing that character. There’s no carrot dangling in front of me. I can’t be bothered to invest dozens or hundreds of hours in the pursuit of improved shoulder armor, however cool it may look.
What can be done? As far as I can tell, almost nothing outside of radically different game design would help. Oh, I know there are a few exceptions. The Scepter of the Shifting Sands, for instance, is damn cool even though it doesn’t give a character any game advantages. But such things are so very few and far between (of necessity) that most players will never experience them.
To truly address the problem, a completely new approach to MMOs is necessary. In coming posts, I’ll not only gripe about things I don’t like but also propose things that I would like to see and also happen to believe are practical (hence the post’s subtitle). I welcome any thoughts, shared experience, or complete disagreement.
November 19th, 2007
I know, I know. I’m a bit late to take up the gauntlet in Syncaine’s challenge regarding EVE Online having a solution to every problem anyone has with MMOs, being the best MMO. Syncaine is not specifically asking for critiques of EVE Online. Rather, he challenges: “Bring up an issue you have had with an MMO, and I’ll relate it to EVE and explain how EVE solves that issue.”
Rather than complain about EVE (which wouldn’t be fair, as I have limited exposure to it), I’ll list the top things I’d like to see in an MMO (all of which I happen to think EVE doesn’t deliver on):
- A real sense of narrative
- A real sense of immersion (although I admit I appreciate the semi-accurate simulation of what it’s like to be a tiny ship in vast space)
- A sense of community
- A sense of participation in the game world on the part of the player characters
No MMOs offer these to my satisfaction, and part of the problem may be the fact that the fourth at least seems to be somewhat ad odds with the first two. MMOs that offer narrative elements tend to offer the same narrative elements over and over to any group of players interested in exploring them. The cognitive disconnect, in WoW, of a single group of players repeatedly destroying an enemy until a certain item drops means that the cool background lore and narrative leading up to the kill are rendered meaningless from the perspective of world participation. You’ve defeated the biggest, baddest enemy of the universe, but you’ll go back and do it again tomorrow ’cause you want his breastplate, and for some reason it didn’t drop.
Immersion, the sense of living in the imagined world of the MMO, is both add odds with and compatible with narrative and player participation. On the one hand, nothing draws me into a world like a good, compelling story. But clicking through someone else’s story (always a danger in video games, MMO and otherwise) can certainly leave me feeling like an observer instead of a participant.
I’m not the first to long for an MMO in which emergent narrative, mostly created by interaction among the players and with the game world, would be the focus. No one’s come close to delivering something like this. Heavy roleplaying guilds have sometimes fascinating narratives, but usually the best parts of their interaction might just as well take place in text chat rooms.
Syncaine may argue that a game like EVE Online offers the perfect place for emergent narrative, true player participation, and a feeling of being in the world takes place. It almost seems like it should. It shares with Ultima Online some of the elements that could have allowed for terrific, epic worlds.
But then we have Syncaine’s follow-up post. When he discusses the “lack of short-term ‘fun,’” he reveals that some of the most exciting things ever to happen in MMOs took place in EVE, and I’ll be he’s right. It would be spectacular to participate in a PVP battle with hundreds of players on each side. Syncaine writes: “What draws me to EVE is that potential, that possibility of launching that Titan.”
Unfortunately, I don’t actually think that’s different than what keeps people playing WoW. Oh, the big events in EVE may indeed be bigger than killing Illidan, but only a small percentage of the playerbase got to experience that for a tiny percent of their game time.
So, richer though EVE’s narrative rewards may be, they come at a dearer price, and to a smaller percentage of players.
Oh, and that point about a sense of community? Well, any game with a loyal fanbase has it. I just didn’t find it in EVE because the game obviously doesn’t address my personal MMO needs. I therefore don’t have much in common with those who (legitimately) find it satisfying. I’ll find a community when I find people who enjoy being immersed in their worlds, their characters. The long lists of statistics and lack of avatar don’t support my kind of immersion.
In the end, I actually think EVE is a great game for the right audience. But I also know, thanks to this little exercise, that I ain’t that audience!
November 14th, 2007
odanu put up a great post at the Feminist Gamers blog analyzing in detail (and from a feminist perspective, of course) the characters of Donna and William, in World of Warcraft. The obnoxious William has been playing “keep away” with the perpetual victim Donna’s dolly since beta. The post articulated much that’s percolated in the back of mind ever since I first saw those two. Great insights.
The “boys will be boys” flavor that colors William’s behavior disturbs me deeply. When I see parents of young boys treat their male children’s misbehavior this way (and I’ve started to see it a lot, now that my daughter is two and interacts more and more with other children), I feel a bit of creeping despair. “Free to Be You and Me
came out thirty-seven years ago!” I think. “Why do we still have Tender Sweet Young Things? And the very different William on that hopeful (if cheesy) album wanted a doll to nurture and love. Stormwind’s William is a petty sadist who wants a doll only to hurt Donna.”
I’m equally disturbed to see the parents of victimized girls intervene immediately and aggressively while expecting boys to suck it up and deal with their own problems. While the boys are learning impunity for their misbehavior, the girls are taught helplessness in the face of adversity.
I expect gender politics and social challenges at playgroup. But in Stormwind, where I’m pleased to see confident guards of both sexes patrol the streets, you’d think these kids work out their differences constructively . . . even if it might mean a trip to the graveyard for one of them!
November 1st, 2007
I’ve talked before about how valuable video games could be as a tool for learning new languages. Well, this interesting article
at Educational Games Research points to some real research on the subject, in particular on MMORPGs and language acquisition. Check it out!
October 29th, 2007
If we gamers consider ourselves Homo ludens—humans who play—we can’t ignore that we have subspecies. Many call themselves “gamers,” but most mean something more specific. What distinguishes Homo ludens from people who don’t call themselves gamers, what unites us, is the perceived geek-factor of the games we play.
Within our geeky species, though, we’ve got varieties so distinct from one another that they can hardly be considered the same animal.
- Homo ludens sangoculi
Those whose eyes begin to bleed after avoiding blinking for five hours during an important raid. In other words, video gamers.
- Homo ludens terataleae
Those who play with monstrous dice. In other words, tabletop roleplaying gamers.
- Homo ludens con-concilii
Those whose definition of “diplomacy” is almost the exact opposite of Webster’s. In other words, board gamers.
- Homo ludens shovelens
Those who shuffle. In other words, card gamers. This subspecies is broad enough to encompass such infraspecies as homo ludens shovelens economica (trading card gamers).
No taxonomy is perfect. As with life taxonomy, the borders are blurry and subject to change. Unlike life taxonomy, in which separate subspecies rarely mate outside of unusual circumstances, Homo ludens is basically engaged in one enormous, non-stop orgy of crossbreeding. In common with Douglas Adams’s Hagunenonns of Vicissitus Three*, Homo ludens is a super-evolutionary being that morphs from one life form to another several times over lunch.
Despite that, though, most gamers do seem to wind up identifying more as one particular subspecies than any other, at least for a given time. For instance, although many MMO players also play roleplaying games, the vast majority of WoW players seem to be Homo ludens sangoculi, and many have never touched a icosohedron in their lives. A quick survey of gaming blogs supports this hypothesis. There are many video game blogs, many roleplaying game blogs, and so on. But there are very few blogs that embrace both kinds of games.
I enjoy different varieties of games with equal fervor. Surely, I’m not the only Homo ludens ecclecticus, right? Who else is out there? And what other subspecies belong in the taxonomy?
*If you don’t know about the Hagunennons, do get your hands on a copy of the original The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy BBC radio production. It has quite a few gems that didn’t survive to the many later versions of the property that will absolutely tickle a fan of the setting.
October 16th, 2007
In early September, I downloaded the intriguing Sword of the New World, a Korean fantasy MMORPG that is “free to play,” although the game ultimately favors players who buy in game items and money with real money transfer (RMT).
I had planned to write a detailed review of the game, but an excellent write-up appeared a couple of days ago at Hardcore Casual that really tells you all you need to know
For myself, here’s what I very much enjoyed about the game:
- The characters look amazing. The costumes are richly detailed and beautiful, and even though you can’t do even one thing to customize their faces, they are appealing. This game has truly captured the anime look and wedded it to the setting.
- The setting is unique: pseudo-Spanish exploration of a (not the) new world. It has some of the flavor of the popular pirate genre but winds up carving out a unique niche. The setting doesn’t try to be believable. Lavishly decorated ballrooms and opulent halls line the streets of a city on the edge of an unexplored continent. But when you’re playing, you just don’t care.
- The music is gorgeous and setting appropriate (really, you just have to listen to it), and the game allows you to control what music is playing.
- The chance to control three characters simultaneously means a person like me, who loves to explore every class available, doesn’t have to split time among quite so many different groups. You can easily make characters of all classes and choose whatever combination seems interesting when you set up an adventuring party.
That said, I quit the game after about a week, because for all the good points, I find it’s just a terrible game. Here’s why:
- It’s too “gamey” for me. As I’ve said before, I prefer a more immersive environment, and Sword of the New World instead reminds me that I’m playing a game. Controlling three characters means I’m not really roleplaying any one; instead, I’m operating three virtual chess pieces simultaneously. The NPCs talk openly about game mechanics.
- Combat is either entirely too easy or almost too hard. One thing I actively dislike about most current MMOs is that they’re too easy. WoW and LotRO are both designed to be accessible to anyone, and even the most difficult challenges are met primarily with time investment, not with skill. In SotNW, though, adventuring can be so easy that you can literally leave the game running for hours at a time, then come back and see how far your characters have leveled. Seriously, the game is actively designed to let your characters grind while you eat lunch. On the other hand, the challenging dungeons and encounters require such careful management of your characters’ abilities and positions to handle the onslaught of monsters – something you won’t have practiced in the super-easy leveling you’ve done so far – that even experienced, skilled gamers may be unable to handle them consistently.
- RMT pisses me off. There are some good arguments for a revenue model based on real cash for in-game rewards, but as someone who prefers immersion, I find such options break my suspension of disbelief. Also, I happen to prefer games in which those with more abundant real-world capital don’t automatically have an advantage.
The worst problem with the game is that I was just plain bored with it after four or five days of exploring. Without a reasonable challenge, an interesting storyline, or a chance to interact in a fun way with other players, even the beautifully realized setting couldn’t hold my interest.
Instead, I felt as if I were playing ProgressQuest. That’s not really fair, of course. The game has lots more to offer. But it doesn’t have lots to offer me.
September 26th, 2007
It seems Flying Lab Software, developers of Pirates of the Burning Sea, has begun to actively recruit members for an elite fan group who they hope will “increase online and offline awareness of the game.” They have a sign-up form here, and anyone who’s interested in the game should probably go sign up right now.
I should note that this isn’t your ordinary sign-up. As they said in their blog post: “Boarding Party Membership is a privilege and not every person that applies will get to participate. As a matter of fact, begging, cajoling, harassing, demanding or complaining about your lack of membership is a sure-fire way to ruin your chances to participate.” The application supports this, requiring written answers to several questions. It even includes a chance to submit a writing sample!
Sounds like this is a chance to become a real, active participant in the community surrounding PotBS. I’m pleased that the developers are taking community building seriously. The community comprises people who care about the game, so it should be well served—hopefully in creative ways. Further, a well-developed community can in turn serve as a valuable resource for developers and designers.
As I may have mentioned, I’m quite excited about the game. I suspect it will quickly become my game of choice. In the meantime, though, if I’m lucky enough to become of The Boarding Party, I’ll be thrilled at the chance to get involved in the community even as it’s forming.
September 25th, 2007
Although I mentioned that I very much enjoyed my vacation from MMORPGs, in the month since I’ve been back, especially while my wife has been playing WoW, attending knitting groups, or otherwise occupied, I’ve dedicated some evenings to exploring (via betas and free trials) a number of other MMOs, among them Tabula Rasa, Sword of the New World, Everquest 2, and Lord of the Rings.
I’ll chatter on about each of those games (and others) in other posts, but since I signed up for a paid subscription to Lord of the Rings Online, I figured I didn’t want to delay keeping a light journal of my experiences with the game.
This is the first time I’ve ever been subscribed to more than one MMORPG at a time. I’ve kept my WoW subscription open because my wife is still playing. I’d very much like to see her reach level 70 in that game, and her being able to call on my dwarf priest for help when she needs it (almost nothing can get her to look for a group in the game unless she knows the people in real life or through real-life friends) will make that process easier. As long as she has a WoW account, I’ll keep mine open, because I really do enjoy playing games with her.
But on to LotRO. During my seven-day trial, I experimented with a human Captain and hobbit Hunter. My initial assessment: the game is WoW with a different skin.
That is, of course, a gross oversimplification. The two games each have their own unique features to recommend them. But they also have a common core:
- They’re easy to play.
- They’re fantasy games with a class-and-level character development system.
- Character advancement is a big part of the “goal,” and this is largely achieved through quests and combat.
- The tank-heal-nuke-(crowd control)-(buff) model applies in both cases.
- Both games allow soloing as a viable alternative to grouping.
- The base UI is fundamentally identical.
Some of LotRO’s refinements directly address shortcomings in WoW, like the fact that you can make objects useful to your character as soon as you learn a profession. As I understand it, professions are still money sinks, but rather less severe than WoW’s.
So why have I signed on?
- I like the fiction, and LotRO has done a bang-up job capturing Middle Earth in MMORPG format. I’d heard that, but I must admit I’m surprised at how much it feels like I’m actually running around the Shire from The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring.
- I like exploring and learning new classes, and LotRO gives me seven new classes with which to do just that.
- Deeds. I didn’t like rep grinds in WoW, and a lot of Deeds in LotRO seem like mini- (or not so mini-) rep grinds. But as someone who would most like to see a level-free MMO where any character can set out to pursue any quest to gain a given ability, equipment, trait, or the like, I have to say that the deeds give me some of that feel.
- Roleplaying. I don’t enjoy the so-called “heavy rp” roleplaying style that’s emerged in WoW. I hate being called to guild meetings to watch avatars agonize over their personal angst via text chat. But I consider myself a roleplayer because I like it best when I and those I play with stay in character. LotRO does several things inherently hospitable to roleplayers, including a default “RP” channel which new characters do not automatically join; a clearly-marked “OOC” channel and other topic-based channels that one can opt out of; and an immersive, slow-paced game world where fast achievement, boasting, and baseball don’t have a roll.
- Immersion and a slow pace. Now, I like leveling and achieving the pinnacles of character advancement as much as anyone, but I also like to enjoy the process. In WoW, I reached 70 largely by performing the same repetitive fight sequences thousands and thousands of times without paying much attention to my surroundings, the storyline, or eventually even the quest text. In LotRO, I may will wind up doing the same fighting, but I don’t feel as if I’m in a hurry. Instead, I actually get pleasure out of running around a given region, discovering what’s over the next hill, finding that I can get a peek in Bag End. I love that NPCs say things inspired by your character as you run past.
- The slow pace also means that I’m likely to do a lot more grouping. In WoW, I always, always felt that I was making a sacrifice when grouping with others, unless it was to do an instance I couldn’t solo. In LotRO, I just don’t care. If someone asks for help, I’ll be glad to help them. I’ve grown very bitter about the fact that WoW’s easy soloing has meant that I haven’t made many in-game friends. (Yes, it’s my own fault, but I’m not the only one who finds solo-grinding to 70 the most effective method in WoW.) In LotRO, I’ve grouped with people just to get to know them.
My main character is a hobbit Burglar. I think she’s level 13 now. I couldn’t tell you her stats if you asked. But I do know that she’s “Undefeated,” a “Fur-cutter,” a “Pie runner,” and an official post officer.
And that, right there, is why I’m playing LotRO, now.
September 24th, 2007
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