Friday, April 21, 2006

Fifth Step: Potatoes, Peanut Butter, and Unabashed Racism

Finding himself unfairly scorned by the public of Hackdirt and Chorrol (he didn't get any action, if you were wondering), Super King winds his way down the dirty path to the next town. What kind of hero would he be if he didn't go out of his way to help every straggler in need? People need to have their dogs rescued!! And their cows rescued!! And someone needs to gather raspberries. Who would be able to survive if they didn't have a strapping young lad to GATHER THEIR RASPBERRIES?!

Almost as if on cue, our dinosaur is approached by an elf who's quite forward about having a mission for him. Oooh, a mission, sounds exciting! He's told that it can't be discussed in public. Galthir, as he's called, suggests that Super King meet him after midnight behind the church in town. Oooh, a secret, so exciting!!

It's a chilly night, and Super King stomps his feet impatiently. The elf is late! And it's all that Super King can muster to not knock that honky upside his head. The promise of great rewards is too enticing, though! So he listens... apparently the elf is being stalked and he needs someone to watch his back and confirm his suspicions. You had me at hello, buddy. Sneaking is what I do!


Ssssh, we're hunting rabbits!

After being sent on three of these so called "missions", which mostly involves following boring peasants farming on boring farms and eating boring lunches, Super King is getting a little fed up. These are just boring humies! But Galthir just won't hear it! After being told that he's a psycho, and none of these people are stalking him, the elf goes on the offensive and Super King has to put him down with the utmost in prejudice. Unhand me villain, it's time for fisticuffs!

In the brutal aftermath Super King cleans off his steel armor and roots through the corpse for whatever he can find. He feels no guilt for killing something so low on the evolutionary ladder. It's the human condition, like swatting a fly, he just doesn't care. What he DOES care about is finding this elf's money stash... 'coz he's certainly been paying pretty well for these waste of time stalking jobs... no such luck. Even a wholesale turndown of the elf's house reveals not a whole lot more than piles of apples and the normal useless crap like calipers and yarn. Why does every house in the world need yarn, anyway? Are there really that many shirts to mend? How about instead of yarn we work on inventing the bathroom, because I've been holding it for about THIRTY DAYS.

Forget towns. Forget quests. Obviously that stuff really just isn't working out for us and our dino-hero is getting crazy-tired of wasting his time finding lost cabbages for itinerant workers. He's going to strike off on his own! There's been a few ruins he's seen around and those things always have crazy amounts of monies, right? Ancient civilizations, without exception, are rich with the burgeoning wealth of the current civilization. Who knew that people a thousand years ago used gold coins TOO? I know it sounds crazy!


Okay... we're really gonna need to start finding more gold and less rat meat.

Deeper and deeper into the dungeon he goes, curious about what he might find (beyond rotting rodent carcasses and their filthy treasures). These ancient guys were pretty suspicious, this much is made obvious by the amount of traps that litter the dungeon. However, it might've been a little better for them if they were also a little smarter. Avoiding most of these traps is easily accomplished with the brain of an autistic four year old. For example:


Gee... I wonder what kind of floor has HOLES IN IT? Maybe I'll just step around.

Spikey Pit Trap: "Not stepping on me, my one weakness! How did you know?"

Further in there's even more devious machinery. However, these too are easily traversed. The poison gas trap is especially fun, but only because Super King is wholly immune to poison, and, as such, spends a solid chunk of time just staring at the gas pouring out and wondering what it's for. "I wish instead of gas it was peanut butter," he muses to himself, poking at the metal grating, "If it was a peanut butter trap then I could have a picnic." After this becomes boring, it seems the dinosaur shares his player's ADHD affliction, he saunters out the wide open door to darker recesses of the dungeon. I mean really guys, who makes a poison gas trap without the standard locked doors that go along with it? It's like nobody in this dungeon's ever played a Resident Evil game before...


Maybe if I just -pretend- it's peanut butter...

The first bit of treasure comes in a disappointing fashion, something called an "Alembic", which settles to rest quite comfortably in Super King's Alchemy section. He's intrigued, until he realizes all it really does is let him create 'Restore Fatigue' potions that weigh more than any Restore Fatigue potion ever has. Seriously, two pounds? That's just terrible inefficient. We're not sure if it has better -effects- than the non-Alembic potions, but we really don't care. First off, Fatigue is stupid stat that's a waste of time anyway and second... we weren't drinking the potions anyway!!


Seven pounds? My FIRST BORN didn't weigh that much!

This is turning out to be not so fun an expedition, and Super King is seriously reconsidering going back to town and digging up more carrots for the helpless villagers, that is... until!


This is the closest thing you can get to an erection in a videogame.

I want that sword, BAD, and Super King heartily agrees with me. Unfortunately, due to game mechanics, we can't steal anything that's equipped and all the lady Umbra has in her inventory is a paltry 20 gold pieces. Damnation!

Also... it makes her 'aggro' and she flips out and totally attacks us for no reason. Uncool, man! So we decide that if we can't steal the sword we're gonna take it by force. She drew first blood!

After about forty reloads we learn that we -also- cannot take the sword by force, which only makes us want it more!! We'll be back for you, ya hoser, you'll see. And when we come back you're gonna be real sorry. Oh well, I guess it's back to FedEx quests for the local populace...

Almost as if on cue:


Seriously lady, potatoes?

You're sending me on a quest for potatoes? Did you see my kickass armor and my bitching freezer sword? What am I, chopped meat? This is totally uncool, and the fact that I'm even being send on this quest sends me (and Super King) into a paradoxical rage that makes us want to complete the quest even MORE. Off into the wilderness we dash! Those potatoes will be safe! Just show me the villainous ogre that saw fit to snatch them from you!


FISTICUFFS!


Okay, change of plan. He's better at fisticuffs than I am.

After a grueling battle involving well over forty arrows (a mere fraction of them are recoverable from the ogre's battered frame), the potatoes are liberated from their captor. I surge forward, my veins filled with the bursting energy of a job well done. It's time to claim our just reward. Which is...

Not that great.


Now I REALLY wish I had that peanut butter, though.

Okay. Forget ruins, forget FedEx quests. Super King resolves himself to return to the fighter's guild. Sure he's tired of killing rats, but at least those jobs provided semi-realistic rewards in the form of cold hard cash. It's just hard to submit yourself to such a clearly racist institution. I've been in the fighter's guild a whole month and we have yet to see ONE SINGLE Argonian among the ranks. When I bring up such complaints at the lodge meetings they just laugh at me and tell me to look in a mirror, which really isn't very nice... but it's okay. I'll be guild master one day and I'll racially cleanse the CRAP out of this guild. For now, I've got a mission to stop some of my guild brothers from causing ruckus in a far off town.

During the days-long journey through swamps and forests and mountains, Super King starts to wonder why the guild keeps giving him contracts that involve traveling halfway across the known world. Wouldn't it be more efficient to just send someone from Leyawin's fighter guild to deal with the problem, you know, considering it's in the SAME DAMN TOWN?! Oh well, it's not really worth worrying about. They'd probably just call him a stinking swamp lizard or something.

Also as if on cue:


Okay buddy, leave the pretty dinosaur bartender alone.

Super King is forced to sit through about an hour of the guild members crying in their beer about the Blackwoods company stealing all their contracts before he's told that he has to GET them a contract or they won't like him anymore. Well that's just retarded. Super King helps those who help themselves, but at the same time... he knows if he doesn't do the job right than that stupid Dark Elf Oreyn is gonna yell at him some more. It's like the guy has a chip on his shoulder that's become so large that it's managed to create its OWN chip.

The part where I had to get a whole bunch of ectoplasm for some annoying mage isn't all that interesting, so we'll skip it. Let's leave it at this: why search for what you can buy in a neighboring town for pennies on the dollar? If humans weren't such idiots, Super King imagines that he'd never get work through the fighter's guild at all. Maybe it's good they haven't figured a few of these things out...

One more interesting thing did happen down in Leyawin town, though:


Lady... you just said the wrong thing.

After about another forty reloads of me trying to take on her and her guards, I realize that sometimes it's not as important to be right as it is to be wrong and have really big guys in armor who are willing to back you up on the matter. I seek refuge in Imperial City, hoping that the racial climate will be a bit more subdued there. Or, at least, that the racist people will be poorer and thus not guarded by heavily armed men.

I'm not given a whole lot to go on in that respect, though, as my time is immediately consumed by the attentions of the Merchant's Guild, who want me to stalk one of the shop proprietors in the neighborhood and see if he's up to no good. Super King is immediately suspicious, the events with Galthir leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but he can't say no when he's promised a rather sizable reward. Plus, sneaking around after people is just plain fun.


Sneak sneak sneak. Sneak sneak sneak.
Oh, I could do this all day long!

Turns out this time there was some truth to the rumors. Our shopkeeper subject, another dirty elf-type, has been buying merchandise purloined off the bodies of dead aristocrats. When confronted with the matter he denies any knowledge of it, and begs his dino-savior to look into the matter further, and investigate his cohort Agarmir, who has been providing him with the corpse-lifted wares.

Well, Agamir's a badguy. Him and his thug buddy are waiting in the tomb and there's this really lame speech that Super King has to sit through about how 'it's a trap, and you'll notice this grave is empty, that's because it's for you and blah blah blah you're gonna die'. The dinosaur amuses himself by yawning, and pantomiming the action of brushing his teeth with his tail. These acts of bravado on his part nearly lead to disaster.


Oh crap, I forgot you were gonna attack me!

When the deed is done Agamir and his thug are left in a rather comprimising position.


Roffle! Are you guys like gay or something? EL OH EL!

Super King steps back to admire his handiwork, but he knows deep in his scaly heart that something still isn't right about this whole thing. While looting the bodies it comes to him...


It was so obvious!! Why didn't I think of this before!

'A job well done!' Super King congratulates himself as he strides back to the merchant section of town, inwardly cackling about future reactions of the guardsmen when they find the two thieves so posthumously embarrassed. Serves you right, suckers!

Super King wasn't really mad about the grave digging so much as he was about the fact that he hadn't thought of it first. Now that Agamir and his crony are out of the way, the dinosaur tries to decide if it'd be a more lucrative profession. If he remembers correctly, there's a merchant out there now that just lost his supplier... And he DOES have this shovel...


Got me a movie, I want you to know. Slicin' up eyeballs, I want you to know.

I love "Debaser"!! The Pixies rock. Well played Bethseda, well played.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Harry said...

This is some of the best stories i have ever heard how about joining the dark brotherhood then things might get interesting

7:55 PM  
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Anonymous HighwayWhore said...

Ignore the prick above who decided to talk to you about mortages. Well done! And keep going!

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Blogger amie said...

Ha! that stupid umbra chick. I never could kill her, so I lured her to the town and the guards did it for me! (except they then turned to me, somehow knowing i had attacked her first in a cave like a bazillion miles away, but at least i got meself a soul sucking sword!) is there a quest with her in it, or is she just some random? anywho, your blogs hilarious!

8:30 AM  

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