Survivor Guy: Mortal Online Edition Pt. 3
As I shuffled through the dirty alleys of Meduli, I approached a cluster of trees that I called my own. Before I had left to restock my supply of pickaxes, this work place of mine was empty and desolate; as I returned however, the place was awash with boisterous young things collecting scraps of my Whitewood. My anger was rising and the three pickaxes I had left this place to purchase were crying-out to be raised in the name of wood-theft-based-murder – Calming myself I decided to simply wander away and find another place in which to work. The old Marr would have taken up arms against such insubordination but what could I do? I was a lowly manual laborer not some Charles Bronson-type. Sighing in resignation I walked on and decided not to look back.
Life in the world of Nave was treating me tougher than expected. My previous days of banditry and larceny were at an end, and I was now on the path of the straight and narrow – a reformed convict. After my disastrous time trying to make ends meet as a murdering brigand, I retreated back into the character creation tools and started afresh as Marr Second. I was now to be an upstanding and moral citizen; no more lazy player killing or fruitless revenge plots; I was going to do it right this time.
The Excitement of Lumber
At last count, I had succumbed to death five times in Mortal Online already – this was a pathetic state of affairs for any self-proclaimed Survivor Guy. What I needed was a plan and objective to reach for; sure I could feel out my path as I went along but this approach had seen me turn into a wild-wandering villain with a target painted on my backside. No, I decided that now I should divert my attentions into an area of skill and stick to it rigidly – Survival had to be taken serious.
So with a heavy heart and a slightly bored grimace, I took the life of a unexciting lumberjack with the long-term goal of possibly returning to marauding and laying waste to others – you've got to have your dreams. With resignation I took up my pickaxe and headed towards the hills and the various tree trunks that occupied them. Chop after chop and chuck after chuck I gained strength and constitution points but also a small bounty of wood. The life of the law abiding townsfolk was surely not exciting but I suppose it had its perks.
And so went my Mortal Online life for many a moon, I would drift in and out of the sandy alleys of Meduli trading wood and purchasing pickaxes all in the name of wood gathering. I liked to think of myself like an online Arnold Schwarzenegger in opening scenes of the film Commando – in reality I fear I more closely resembled Michael Palin frolicking in a wood in a Monty Python sketch. Nevertheless, I was almost happy, my finances were optimistic and I was, as they say, “moving on up”.
The Merchants and the Idiot
You really can only chop so much wood before you border upon the edge of sanity. After earning 10 gold coins with my lumberjacking, I decided that a change of scenery was in order. Oh sure the life I was occupying was safe and secure but by-crikey was it boring. Every time I left my computer stabbing merrily away at some tree, I wished that upon my return I was being attacked or in some sort of troublesome situation. It never happened though, my life was as uneventful as you would expect of a desert-based woodcutter.
Deciding enough was enough, I headed to the storage NPC and formulated a course of action – I would yell and scream until a kindly smith would forge me sort of weapon and armor. It was a sound plan I think you will agree. Heading towards the chat tab, I typed in my demands and set about rampaging through the town loudly informing every one of my needs.
In Mortal Online, there is no tell or whisper function; all secret conversations are either conducted in some deep and dark place or simply off-game; well, I wasn't to know this. For around thirty minutes I had been tumbling around the streets of Meduli crying-out for anyone to create a weapon fit for purpose – little did I know that a small crowd of artisans had been trying to track me down in the center of town. As I approached a small fountain in the heart of Meduli I was greeted by a small number of people, some of which ran towards me, others simply shouted out my name.
“Marr!” came one “What can I get you friend?” asked another “Hey, come here Marr, let's trade”. Well wasn't I Mr. Popular today? Quickly I typed off a message of my wants and needs – a hardy weapon and some sound armor. The craftsmen who had gathered answered my response with a more questions: they wanted to know what weapon I wanted, what armor I desired. How did I know? I was a simple lumberjack with a few coins jangling in my leather pockets. Relaying my message of confusion, a number of merchants simply wandered away disinterested – my ability to whip up a crowd was dispersing with my foul knowledge of inventory.
After what seemed an age I bartered and haggled myself the items that I desired. After parting with a dozen of my nice gold coins, I received a rather fancy double-edged Axe and one or two pieces of armor of varying quality. In my mind I looked like a ass-kicking machine; the fellow that had sold me all of this equipment told me that I looked “interesting”. I knew at that point I was cool.