Down by the Water
I made my way through trees and wilderness and finally came upon a small farm-like settlement and a small peaceful lake. Searching for goblins I came to recognise my enemies – but they weren’t your regular goblin-like chaps, no these were wearing what looked like pumpkins on their heads. Feeling slightly taken aback and unsure whether I was slaying troublesome-beasts or simply folk trying to enjoy a late Halloween party, I set about my quest of butchery. Pressing ‘R’ and clicking like a man possessed, I felled one of these monsters, then two, and then three. After the slaughter ended I looked for bodies to loot – what greeted me were tombstones with the moniker “here lies the body of a goblin…” I felt bad to be honest.
Returning back to balding man with a small number of weapons, I received a reward of armor, cash, and also the knowledge that now I am a grave robber. The next few hours of my online-odyssey were filled with similar tasks, sometimes I had to slay goblins, and other times I had to simply collect a small dowry of wood. I was finding my initial experiences of survival to be relatively tame and easy, I wasn’t seeing the scenes of violence and paranoia that I had read about and now I was tooled up with a set of armour and a nice new 2handed sword. Life was good, nay, life was great – but where were the hardships and brutality?
After completing my beginner tasks I knew enough to set myself a goal and a few objectives. I wanted to be a great warrior or failing that, a bandit with high penchant for bastardry. To do this I realized that first my combat skills would need to be honed and also that I would need even bigger and better weapons and armor – and preferably armor pieces with spikes protruding from them.
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Giving more importance to the latter of my stated tasks, I began my mission in the guise of a simple miner. I headed across the bridge away from Heart of Eanna and found myself at a sparkling iron ore deposit. Drawing my pickaxe, I proceeded to scrape and bash pieces of mineral into my inventory and watched in a state of semi-conscious boredom as I slowly skilled up and gained enough material to finish up and head back to town.
It will all End in Tears
Many of you will have read enough Survivor Guy articles or indeed, have enough common sense to realise that my luck never seems to last any extended amount of time. While smashing away at iron ore, I was foolishly equipped to the nines with everything I had ever owned. My pockets were filled with tree sap, sulphur, gold coin, potions, weapons, goblin snacks, and everything in-between. While I continued to mine in a daze a player scouted me from a distance away. Well I was out in the open; I wasn’t scared of anyone or anything. I was a fool.
At first I thought I had lagged, but no, the tell-tale streaks of blood and the ginger dwarf behind me slashing away with untold hate were dead giveaways. Some little bastard was having at me while all I could do was fumble with my mouse trying to escape. Like most of my tales, I ended up dead, angry, and without a single possession. I had toiled hard to clothe myself, to feed myself the finest stew, and now I was back to looking like a slutty gladiator in some poorly budgeted porn flick.
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Stumbling back to my site of death, I found my tombstone. Pressing ‘F’ I nervously waited to see whether or not this dwarven-gent had mistook me for a pumpkin-headed freak of some kind. No it would seem he did not. This ginger little fellow was not weeping in the trees, an emotional wreck considering exactly what he had done. He was long gone and enjoying the toils of my labor – probably tucking into one of my prized goblin snacks and telling his other flame-haired dwarf buddies about his latest steal. Oh I hate ginger dwarves. My grave held only two items, a pickaxe and a single gold coin: the little git.
I’ll Never Drop my Sword
Apparently, my encounter with death had brought me within touching, or slashing, distance of a fairly famous Darkfall player. This pint-sized killer was an outlaw by the name of ‘Ginger Magician’ and the chat tabs were frequently awash with warnings of his presence in certain areas. Like a true bandit, Ginger preyed on the weak and cowardly, spying them for their loot and shiny items. I was just one in a long line of victims. Hatred boiled inside of me, I wanted this guy dead.
With revenge burning in the furnaces of my heart, I slowly rebuilt my supplies and inventory. I forged new weapons with infused anger; I collected more iron with the rage of an angry squirrel. I was formulating a plan and being fairly vocal about it at the same time. I wanted retribution for the crimes committed against me and I wouldn’t stop.
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Many people in this Online Murderer simply whine and moan about the element of player killers. Some see it as a ruining element of proceedings instead of seeing it as another rich layer of gameplay. My victimisation by the hand of a small thief hadn’t reduced me to moans but instead fuelled me with ambition and drive. My goal in game was now to track down and fell this little sod and I didn’t care how long it would take. This was no longer Survivor Guy but Bounty Guy, I was the Bobba Fett of these lands and I had not yet chosen which side of good my thumb would land.
Before long, people of Darkfall would come to see me as their saviour or possible their vengeful master. I was training long and hard and still had a long journey ahead of me. Join me next week as my quest for revenge continues and I become the Charles Bronson of virtual realms.
