Winds Of Change : GW2

As promised, The Festival of the Four Winds begins today. The gantries and ropewalks, the silk banners and paper kites, the cries of the hawkers and vendors... how much have I missed all this?

All aboard The Skylark!

The weeks and months either side of the original Bazaar of the Four Winds were arguably GW2's creative peak. With everything that's happened since, it's been all too easy to forget.  Everything we complained about back then gleams like true riches right now. Spoiled. We were spoiled. And we cried like brats.

The colors, man...

The colors. So rich. Psychedelic. The depth and complexity of the structures. Overwhelming. This is possibly the finest map ANet's exemplary Art Department ever produced. Why was it lost for all those years?

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No its... actually, what is that thing?

It's here now, at least. We have three weeks to savor it. I feel particularly blessed with three accounts, one with all expansions enabled, one with only Heart of Thorns, one with neither. 

Sitting in  chairs. All the cool kids are doing it.

It means I can enjoy the Labyrinthine Cliffs in three very different ways: as they were intended, using only the zephrite movement crystals; with the glorious freedom of the glider; in easy mode, mounted.

Mirror glass seas and mother of pearl skies. It's not about drugs, honest.

There's so much to do here. Griffin and Skimmer races, crystal collections, a meta. I've come away to write this too soon to have seen more than a glimpse and done more than a fraction.

"I was looking out the window and a witch flew by" : Source

I came by ship. Something so special about traveling by sea, even if the trip itself is reduced to nothing more than a postcard. Hot air balloons too, for the ride to The Crown Pavilion, but that's another tale entirely.

How did I get up here? Rabbits may have been involved.

It seems plenty of work has been done to bring the festival grounds up to date, to include everyone. Giant frogs from the deep Maguuma jungles wander the waterline. Charr from the recently-discovered Olmakhan tribes struggle to adjust as they wander the walkways, bartering with the merchants.

No-one over four metres tall allowed on upper decks for safety reasons.

 The whole place is a melting pot, roiling, chaotic and alive. It was like this all those years ago and now it is again. We have travelled so far but we have come home at last.

I smell a mystery. Or maybe there's dried fish in these barrels.

All but the Zephrites. I wonder if their story has ended or whether, exploring, more might be revealed. Let's go find out.