So there I was, wantonly poking my lance at a Radobaan (phrasing?), when there was a sudden change. I heard it before I saw it; the usual theme tune that plays when you engage a monster in the Rotten Vale was different. More bombastic, more dramatic, more reminiscent of… World War 2? And then they dropped; large black scales began to litter the floor, and down he came, crashing upon us!
Yes, Bazelgeuse is the bane of my existence in Monster Hunter World, and yet I can’t help but have a respect for him. He’s strategic! He flies in the air and blankets the ground with explosive scales, then sets them off, hoping to catch you in the blast! He engages you when you’re in combat already with something else, thus distracted enough to be an easier target! So pragmatic! But he’s not a coward either; he’s more than willing to stand his ground in a fight, and he wins every time (barring Deviljho, though even then he inflicts significant damage, enough to consider it more a draw than anything).
Well, every time, until now. For I, Panda Steve, have slain my first Bazelgeuse and turned his remains into a gunlance!
Look at it! It even looks like Bazelgeuse himself, my lord and saviour, my dearly beloved, my triumph and my tragedy.
Yeah I gave Classic WoW a go, and I just couldn’t be bothered. The lack of Pandaren was an obvious turn-off (how did I even survive before Mists? I just don’t know), and in the end, it was the feeling that it was all very unnecessary that did it for me. You may praise the Classic community for being, well, a community, but what’s stopping you from doing that in Retail as well? What is stopping you from talking to people in Retail, addressing the groups you get in, greeting people, generally being nice to others?
I’ll tell you what’s stopping you. YOU ARE. Because you’re a bit of a dick, let’s be honest, and while your rose-tinted glasses are fetching and SO FASHION, eventually they will come off and you’ll remember that everything is awful.
What’s that rock?
Hey, was this scale always h-
It’s mid-September and I am still mooching around in shorts and t-shirts. This is despite the fact that, even now, a month after my holiday, my legs still look like I’ve been stubbing cigarettes out on them, courtesy of all the French insects that bit me incessantly.
Insect repellent spray did NOT work. Attracted more, if anything. I found that lighting several citronella tea lights and arraying them about myself vaguely in the shape of a pentagram that I sat in the middle of was the best course of action. Terribly impractical though, and did necessitate sitting on the floor, and who wants to do that when there’s a perfectly adequate sofa nearby?
Anyway insects can go fuck themselves.