A new leaf turns in the world of cRPG. Like goldfish swimming in a stagnant refuse-filled fishbowl of duped gold, full plate, and torn contracts, we have been gently lifted into our new home - a large tank with crates, barrels, fake seaweed, sunken ships, and treasure chests alike. It is good here, and the air is fresh and beautiful. Oddly though, the caretaker of this tank has left the pricetags on all of the decorations.Little Uumdi II stood atop the southernmost watchtower of New Derchios Castle. Saluting the sun, he began to meditate on his father's exploits and misadventures, taking heed to the advice he was given.
**Wear heavy armor, son. I sold my robe so that you could wear the garb of a true man. It fetched a fair price, as the Tide pen your grandmother gave us worked rather well on the mustard stains from numerous Calradian-style hot dogs.**
"Father, I shall make you proud," he said, as he stood up and reached with bandaged hands toward a ruined, splintered pitchfork. Filled with wondrous visions of conquest, adventure, and comradery, little Uumdi basked in the moment, and he could swear he felt within his person the entirety of the cosmos.
"Uumdi! Your orders!" came a shout from the near distance. His commanding officer came to him, armed to the teeth in a green shirt and leather cap, carrying a menacing looking cudgel at his waist.
Oh, the excitement! Finally, a chance to become a real man just like his father.
Little did he know, his father never truly felt fulfilled, and spent his final hours reflecting that he never found an answer, and "that day" never came when he would finally understand a thing about life.
"Bandits have left the area. They cannot be allowed to escape. Here are your mission orders, they are making a break to the northeast, you should make it within 3 hours travel if you go now. Take our finest swaybacked rounceys and godspeed."
So unquestioningly, he allowed his clarity to dissipate and in its place came a lust for blood masked with justice. With fleet of foot and all that, he left the castle gates, and left a cloud of dust as the broken horses pounded their hooves on the cold autumn earth.
A caravan of 100 men walked leisurely in the distance as the sun shined brightly on a cloudless day. Birds carelessly chirped as the men laugh and almost seemed to scamper as children on this peaceful day.
"Surely they sense my presence. Why aren't they alarmed and fleeing for their very lives? Perhaps they aim to... throw me off. Surely they are the criminal scum I seek..." Uumdi thought to himself before making the final charge to confront the men. Finally, he ordered the cavalry to surround them, and the infantry to engage in formation only a stone's throw away while he read his demand.
"Halt! You are under the command of this legion to hand over your goods and leave the area, or die miserably as you should," Uumdi said with words summoned from the darkest regions of his bowels. Just like dear old dad he liked playing tough guy to people he could outrun.
"What are the charges? This is surely a mistake," said the caravan leader. "What are your orders, who is demanding this?"
Realizing he did not rightly run a doubt through his mind, he quickly fell back to his contract orders. Playing too much Borderlands 2, he hoped he could power through his lack of strategus knowledge and be a proud member of his strategus faction. With a deep breathe, he aimed to bellow the strong words written by another man towards the scoundrel who dared defy him to his face.
With one glance at his mission orders, his expression changed from fierce and confident to puzzled; even carrying signs of embarrassment. "You.... you... took. One moment, I've got an itch," Uumdi said, with the outrageous plot to divert attention to his genitals for a moment while he collected himself in the face of the truth of his orders:
Surely... he was justified in bringing justice. Could he face the shame of turning around empty handed and the betrayal of his friends and loved ones? He quickly remembered an age-old superstition, that in this world, men never truly die. Trusting in the interconnectedness of man and clinging to a far-out ideal that things will work out with understanding in time, he had to make a decision.
"Sire... You have been charged with defiling the good fiefs of our faction. When you buy and sell goods you drastically hurt the Supply and Demand rating," he said, scrambling to justify the slaughter of 100 men.
"You can't be serious. In any case, I'll gladly move to another area."
"The damage has already been done, my friend. I'm terribly sorry, but we... we will notify the next of kin of what has happened on this day." With the flashing of steel (in reality, it was a 10-second no show, haha) and in the name of numbers, men became even more numbers.
Knowing well he could not wash his hands of the issue, little Uumdi knew he could only devote his life to educating first himself and then the public. Hopefully one day a call-to-arms will blossom and the great nations of this brave new world will come together and seek even the slightest level of mutual understanding about themselves and world they live in.
