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EQ Chronicles: I’m a Big Boy Now

It’s been a long time between reflections for my Bard. The reason for the hiatus was not because he wasn’t busy. Actually, on the contrary - there has been much to do, see, and learn. And amongst all the activity, something important happened.

Of course, there was his trip to the moon. Forget any thoughts of serene and distant romance within the gentle folds of slow lunar hills. Check that misapprehension with your corpse at the zone-in to the first level 60+ zone. Oh you didn’t know it was level 60? Running back naked through the same unfamiliar zones you found intimidating fully armored, you do now.

Luclin is impressive, new, and mostly deadly. There are uncovered mountains of treasures and alien adventures waiting to be sampled, and even after months of frenzied activity by thousands many are still untouched. Strange as it seems to my Bard (who knows nothing of high detail textures and high polygon models), everything appears clearer since he went there. He looks better too, and has better gear. Odd. He also added another potent weapon to his arsenal. After running in circles singing countless mobs to death (his record is a swarm of 12 at one time), he had the sudden epiphany to charm one of them and use their strength against the others. Say hello to charm kiting, and some very (very) easy experience.

The moon was good to the Bard. Yet despite it’s charms, he has again been drawn back to the old world. You see, something happened along the way that he didn’t forsee. Somewhere inbetween running, smiting, and singing, my Bard inadvertently reached the Big Time.

My Bard is now level 50, which is a position of some note. He may not be an Avatar, but neither is he the little blue twerp he was. He’s big enough to take on some fairly serious dragon action, and raid with others to overcome some of the bigger challenges in the game. He is now, almost officially, a hard man.

Which, apart from being really cool, set him up to deal with a challenge far stranger than an unusually clear moon: another Bard. A really bad one.

Sitting quietly in Upper Guk being ignored by all the giant frogs and waiting for one particular frog to appear, my Bard made what is commonly called a “camp”. He was waiting at a known spawn point for a particular mob to appear, which he would then kill in the hope it dropped a sought after item - in this case a small spear that imbued resistance against cold and fire magic; very useful if you are contemplating fighting dragons, as he is (and will tell you if you ask him). The frog dropped the item rarely, and only appeared once about every hour or so. In the meantime several of his buddies appeared in his place, and needed to be dealt with.

EverQuest players call this camping, and there is an unwritten ethic that goes along with it. The most important aspect of it is the acknowledgement that camping is okay. If someone is obviously waiting at a spawn point, you may get in line to camp after them, but until they leave it is theirs and theirs (or their group’s) alone. Attempting to attack the mob when it appears and outdamage the camper (and so winning the right to loot the corpse), is called kill stealing and is accorded the same notoriety as stealing is in real life. It is heartbreaking to spend hours of game time in the effort to gain an important item, only to have it taken from you by another unscrupulous and more powerful player. It will also attract the attention of Game Masters who take a dim view of it. Worst of all, it is a nasty thing to do.

Enter another high level Bard into my Bard’s camp.

“Howdy” I say to him.
“Hiyo” he returns cryptically while battling a wandering frog.
“I’m camping the squire,” I inform him courteously. I didn’t add I had been there for hours, there was no need.
“I was camping squire and scryer,” he returns.

Er, no he wasn’t. I knew because I had been there. Not only was he attempting to break one player rule - usurp someone else’s camp - he was also breaking another; claiming more than one camp. That was not only greedy, and not physically possible to do effectively, it was understood to be unacceptable and scorned openly by other players who would proceed to take one camp away. There then ensued a surreal conversation where one person held up a bare faced lie as truth to the another person whose presence proved the lie false, and both knew it.

Bad Bard says, ‘I was in zone b4 you’
I say, ‘Listen man, I’ve taken the past four of them’
Bad Bard says, ‘Then why werent you in zone when i was here? alone’
Bad Bard is looking at your equipment…
I say, ‘I was … you didn’t look’
Bad Bard says, ‘I did look, thats why i said i was the ONLY one in zone’
I say, ‘Sorry, but you’re either lying or mistaken’

And on it went. It turned out, after talking to some of the Bard’s guildmates, that he had bought his level 51 Bard on eBay. Yes, you can do that. The problem is you can’t buy the experience and knowledge that come with a high level character. Such players are usually pests at high levels as a result, which is why EQers have the saying “eBay: just say no.” I had heard of eBayers, but never met one. Until now.

The Bard had inspected me (looked at my equipment by right clicking on me) because he wanted to see if I had the sort of weaponry that would do more damage to the mob when it appeared than he could. If I could outdamage him, I would win looting rights and gain whatever it dropped. I inspected him in turn and realised, his weapons were more powerful than mine. That, and his higher level would mean I could not compete with him. But I understood something he did not, having earned my level through experience and not bought it on the internet.

I’m a Bard. I sing.

I sat down and had my Bard memorize an obsure song that dealt a large amount of damage in one burst by all but exhausting my mana. It could only be sung once every few hours, and for that reason was usually overlooked by the unknowledgable. eBayers would have no clue it existed. My opponent continued his surreal banter and impudent defiance. I, for the most part, remained silent, waiting for the frog to appear.

Right on time the mob “popped” into view. The Bad Bard immediately ran toward it and began flailing with his weapons. I followed, but only after targetting it and starting up my explosive song. The rest is better told by a snippet cut from my EQ log, a file which automatically records everything said in the text window. Only the Bard’s name has been omitted, in the hope he may yet become a more reasonable player:

a froglok gaz squire says ‘Frrroooaaakkk!
Auto attack on.
You crush a froglok gaz squire for 27 points of damage.
You crush a froglok gaz squire for 28 points of damage.
You crush a froglok gaz squire for 26 points of damage.
You crush a froglok gaz squire for 28 points of damage.
a froglok gaz squire was hit by non-melee for 375 points of damage.

(My song kicked in)

You have slain a froglok gaz squire!
Your faction standing with Frogloks of Guk got worse.
You receive 6 silver, 13 copper as your split.
–You have looted a Collar of Undead Protection.–
[You] saved.
Your battle fury fades.
Bad Bard says, ‘Umm?’

(He had no idea what had happened.)

You say, ‘Learn to play’
Bad Bard is looking at your equipment…
You say, ‘The rest is yours’

The Collar wasn’t the item I was after (actually, I already had one), but Bad Bard didn’t know that as he couldn’t see what I had looted. For all he knew I had just outwitted him and won the covetted spear, and I wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. In fact, as it was late anyway, I was going to give the impression that is exactly what had happened.

He continued to re-inspect me over and over, trying to ascertain what potent item I had used to kill the Frog so quickly. I logged off and went to bed disturbingly self-satisfied.

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  posted by monty · at 4:54 pm · filed under EQ Chronicles