Monday, August 17, 2009

An MMO Solliloquey

To level or not to level,
this IS a question.
Whether to suffer the drudgery and boredom of outrageous grinding,
Or to make short your content and by the players end it.

To die, to Lose.
No more, and by a raise to say
we end permadeath and all consequences
of play that is crap.
Tis of the masses devoutly wished.

To die, to raise.
To raise, perchance to bore.
Aye there's the rub.
For in this state of invulnerability,
what dramatic tension may come
when death hath lost all its sting.

That the masses cannot imagine: there's the fact
That makes an experience so devoid of Roleplay;
For who would suffer a 13 yr old in battle,
The talk of trash, the accent innane,
The sp33k of l33t, the P of K,
The insolence of the child and the childish
That patient and mature player does take,
When he himself might his exit make
to a game of mature adults? who would roleplayers bear,
To grief and annoy under a desperate need for attention,
But that the dread of leveling again,
In the undiscover'd game which fares no better?

That those dissatisfied yet pay monthly puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus economics does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native player of roles
Is sicklied o'er with the wants of the masses,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of improvement.[1]

No comments: