Silently and without hesitation, I descended upon my prey while he and his bald head were engaged in combat with two goblins. Drawing my sword, I hid behind a rock and waited for the best moment. After slaying the two beasts around him, Baldy simply took to the floor and begin to rest his weary bones – his health was a mere 50% of what it should have been, how tragic for him. I stood up, thrust my sword to the sky and struck like a dirty Samurai.
My first swing produced a score of blood, my second reduced his bald head to an oozing wound, the third and final strike murdered him. Looking down at my victim I pondered for a while, I had become like my tormentor the dwarf – and I effing loved it. With glee I rummaged around the fellows grave and procured those fine plate-mail legs and a delicious bounty of 500 gold coins. Oh merry days!
Quickly I sprinted towards the safety of town and deposited my ill-gotten gains. I was a bandit, a rogue, a thug, a bastard, and a cad. I was buzzing with an excited energy that I had long forgotten. In MMORPGs, I like playing an anti-social thief more than a downtrodden do-gooder. At the end of the day, it is better to be the star rather than the fluffer.
The Darkfall Savage
Ok, the above title may be a bit strong, I was more like the Eanna botherer or the coastline flasher, but nevertheless, I was a slight nuisance. After my first murder, I got a taste for it, and thus decided to wander around the starting areas of towns looking for easy spoils and even easier pickings. This idea was brilliant, why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? Well perhaps my adventures in Mortal Online had perhaps soured me somewhat but on Darkfall, what the hell could go wrong?
As the sun began to set, I emerged from the darkness of my farm hideout in search for new victims. Of course, like any bully, I had to look out for anyone slightly taller with more a wit, but for the most part I could go unnoticed by the night. Focusing my murderous skills, I set about a patrol of the most frequented newbie spots and also passed by a few known iron ore nodes – there would be blood spoilt before the dawn.
A few minutes passed and victims were relatively short-on-the-ground, I had passed but one player in the last twenty minutes but they were tooled up with swords and armour – and essentially I am a coward that only picks on the desperately week. I moved on and broadened my search, there had to be just one snot-nosed runt somewhere around here, I can almost smell them.
I was out on the prowl and hungry like the wolf, but alas, there was no prey to be found; my determination faltering I decided to check one more iron node and retreat back into my farm when I finally came across a ‘nibble’. There stood bold in the night was a strap-ridden miner, a picture of honest labour and low stamina – and that’s how I like ‘em.
Approaching like a virtual Jack the Ripper, I drew my weapon silently and then finally plunged it into the gentle miner. The smile across my face widened and my eyes brightened with glee. I clicked rapidly with menace and before long his red health bar slid away into oblivion. After the melee was over, I stood looking at the laying player beneath my feet. Poor chap didn’t even know how to realise himself into death – I simply sat there and watched silently, many players had done it to me, and now it was my turn.
Flame Headed Bastard
Like a grim sentry I waited for this chap to finally stumble into death so I could get at his lucrative tombstone. Firmly refusing to deliver the finishing blow, my own hubris was the architect in my own downfall. As I stood and watched, another player came upon me as they always tend to do when you’re not paying attention. Just as the grave stone finally appeared, so did him of ginger beard and hair. Oh bollocks I thought.
I ran fast and panicked. The little git behind me was sure to catch-up and within seconds I too was below someone’s feet, except this fellow didn’t hesitate in delivering that final crush to the cranium. I slipped into death, angry and disappointed with myself. I shouldn’t be so unprepared and foolish. Like a zombie, always double-tap and move on.
Returning to my bind point, I collected what armour and weaponry I had for such an occasion and wandered back to my farm, head full of regret and a return to goblin slaughter. Approaching my farmstead, I drew my sword and began to slash and hack at the local wildlife – non-player characters were my speciality, these live ones were too tricky at times.
As I tucked into a course of goblin genocide, I broke my latest rule of being prepared and aware. Unbeknownst to me, I had been watched and stalked like the beast I am. I killed two goblins and decided to rest my weary bones and just as I did, a bald man charged at me like a charging thing.
I was low of health and the blows delivered to my form by this shiny bastard weren’t helping matters. I decided to unceremoniously turn-tail and get the hell of out dodge. My combatant replied with a volley of arrows and a smug grin. I was felled, beaten, bruised and you know what? He didn’t deliver the final blow. Instead of slamming the ‘space’ bar, I waited, unwilling to give the satisfaction of a quick corpse rummage. I hope he grazed his arm on the damn tomb stone.
And there you have it, my final encounter within the world of Darkfall that shall be documented. Neither being the victim or the perpetrator had suited me well but I would continue in these brutal lands in my quest to fulfil my initial promises to the game - I will kill that little ginger bastard if it is the last thing I do.
So as always, thank you for reading through my misadventures and I bid thee good luck on any kind of survival you may undertake – or indeed, simply surviving the gluttony of the oncoming Holiday Season. Merry Christmas!