Well, I say "dragon-slaying". In my own case, of course, I mean "dragon-fighting". No actual dragons died, especially not that one that's dead already yet manages to look so exceptionally well on it.
The Battle for Sparkfly Fen raged all weekend on Yak's Bend, fitfully and feebly the first few times when most of the server was asleep, then with increasing vigor and determination as the day wore on. I went so far as to join the Mumble channel, named with grim irony "Tequatl the Funless", to take direction and it was quite a revelation to hear the calm and orderly way in which teams were organized and orders issued.
Each attempt improved on the previous run. We whittled Tequatl from 75% to 50% and there seemed a good chance that if we just kept coming back every ninety minutes we might eventually drive the overgrown gecko back beneath the waves and reap the rewards we so richly deserved.
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| Sir! Yes, I do have prior experience on turrets, Sir! |
Maybe we did. I wouldn't know. By late-evening in my time zone Yak's Bend was spinning up Overflows a good half-hour before the start of the window of opportunity, itself half an hour long. I managed to grab an invite via Mumble to escape overflow once but after that even the Overflows were supposedly spitting out Overflows of their own and there was no chance of getting back to The Yak.
The whole thing has been enormously instructive for me. I spent some lengthy periods just standing around in Sparkfly Fen, waiting. One time I was there for a full hour doing absolutely nothing before the show started. I enjoyed that time every bit as much as an hour spent fighting things, questing or crafting. Even before I joined Mumble, map chat kept me entertained and with the background chatter added it really did have that buzz of being part of the crowd at a sporting event or a festival.
Odd, unfamiliar thoughts began to drift through my mind, like "is this what people get out of raiding?" and "it's really quite relaxing to be told what to do, where to stand, what buffs to cast, what food to eat". Individualism's all very well but there's something to be said for just following orders.
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| Water sprites. They're more scared of you than you are of them. Just keep telling yourself that. |
Still, it's good to have something to do with your hands while your waiting. Not being much of a one for jumping repeatedly on the spot (always a popular pastime in every MMO I've ever played, or at least those with a Jump key) I wish GW2 would discover fishing.
All MMOs should have fishing. Most of them do, or at least most of the ones I've spent any significant time in, not that I'm saying there's any causal relationship there. Fishing in MMOs isn't always just about the fish, of course. Many an impoverished Norrathian got his start on the adventuring ladder by fishing up and selling rusty daggers at two silver a shot and in Vanguard it was faster for crafters to fish Silver Masterwork Seals out of the sea than to, y'know, craft for them.
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| A Charr could wear that hat. Just sayin'. |
Fisher is one of the Disciples of the Land, the gathering professions, and there are probably some cross-class, interdisciplinary synergies of which I am unaware since I haven't yet taken any of the other options. I just fish. There's a Fishing Log, which I have neglected even more than I've neglected the various Hunting Logs on my adventure classes. There are Fishing Leves, which I haven't done and Fishing Class Quests, which I have. Because, Straw Hat!
The fish caught can be cooked, of course. Maybe one day, when I get round to crafting I'll learn how to braise a haddock. For now I just hand them all to my trusty retainer for safekeeping. I hope she has a refrigerated compartment in those packs. And that she can keep her greedy Miqo'te paws out of it.
For the while fishing is its own reward. It's very pleasant to stand on a high platform in Limsa Lominsa and cast out into the sea far below or to ride my chocobo out Aleport and stand on the dock looking out across the shimmering water, waiting for the herring to bite.
If I could only stand between the reeking, plosive fish-heads on the wide, flat, sands of Sparkfly casting my bait out into those shark-infested, dragon-haunted waters, how sweetly the waiting hours might pass. And who knows what horrors I might hook?



















