Originally posted by Quarken on July 28, 2005 13:30
Yo everyone. Starting these updates is more difficult than it may appear. I’m having some serious brain fartage trying to get this bitch rolling and I don’t want to cheat you out of one of our phenomenal updates. But hey, I’m going to anyway.
Before we get going, we’re recruiting. Here’s what is open:
Enchanter: a billion
Contact Orruar in game before you apply. There are requirements in our Application section on the forums. So if you meet those requirements and you’re one of those classes listed above, drop us an application faster than an unwanted infant.
So, we’re still absorbing loot in Anguish. Even more so since Mata has been gimped beyond comprehension with the revelation of Mask Conspiracy ’05. If you haven’t heard yet, check your favorite message board of whining uninformed bags of the douche. I’m sure you’ll get the whole story and then some. Luckily, we made it into “Studio 54” before the cover was blown off this discovery and got our well deserved cockwaving rights, which were just flagrantly used and abused. There’s more where that came from, watch out now!
So what’s left for us to kill. Well, just like finishing a bad movie just simply because you paid for it; we find ourselves back in Dragons of Norrath. And what’s left for us there, you ask? The mighty, egg protecting, add spawning, death touching, sexy ass mother, Vishimtar the Fallen. We’ve taken a few runs at him and made some progress here, some adjustments there. Tonight we went in digesting our efforts, desires and dedication – ready to squeeze them out into a big, steaming, pile of victory.
Here is Vishimtar, alive and well, minding his own business.
Here is Vishimtar, dead and not well, because he was minding his own business and we are loot hungry interlopers.
If you take a good hard look at that last picture you might notice he’s in a very specific location. Now, I don’t want to give out too much of a spoiler BUT, it might be worth trying out if you haven’t yet. Think: Z axis. Keep count on those eggs that spawn too. That’s the magic number, clearly.
THAR BE THE BOOTY!
So, with Mata’Muram and Vishimtar down, we anxiously await Depths of Dark Hollow release so we can get that taste of fresh blood going again. See ya then.
And so it begins!
You may remember back in the dizzle, as the kids say, I used to complain about various topics at the end of some of our updates, but not for some time now. It seems that our beloved KFC has been doing everything possible to make sure that doesn’t continue.
Now, I love KFC, that’s why I go there. I have my options of various popular fast food chains available to me that I can slowly kill myself with. But I drive the extra half mile to get some of those biscuits and mashed potatoes. My probelm isn’t with the product, it’s their forsaken menu structure. You need a pocket sized Rosetta Stone to make sense of it. And you’re always under pressure to order quickly because of other biscuit & gravy crazed patrons breathing down your neck. Between the incomprehensible menu and the pressure to make a decision quickly, I feel like I’m negotiating with a suicide bomber. My first instinct is to order their value meals because they make sure to hang up their little promotional signs of “$4.00 VALUE MEALS” every square inch of the place. 4 bucks for a value meal isn’t bad, so I get one. The only thing is, they don’t give you a drink with it. What the fuck? What kind of heathenistic fast food joint is this. Even Taco Bell knows how to string together a value meal. You get: main, side, drink. It’s a formula that has stood the test of time, but KFC is a loose cannon. Here’s how my typical experience in KFC goes:
KFC Poultry Transfer Agent (KPTA): Hi, how can I make your today better?
Me: Hi, can I please have some chicken?
KPTA: Would you like boneless, leg, breast, thigh, groin, misc?
Me: Could your menu be any more difficult to read?
Me: Just give me a bucket of chicken up in this motherfucker.
This isn’t fine dining cuisine. This is KFC. Nobody can decipher the different taste of one body part from the other. It all tastes like greasy American goodness, so pick one and run with it. This menu should read, “Order X amount of chicken pieces, pick a side from our well organized, non-confusing list of sides, and a beverage” No options of chicken body parts, no cakes, no crispy-classic-buffalo-honey-popcorn blends; just straight gangsta American chicken.
Anyway, I get home, I unpack my shit and get ready to eat when I notice this:
Not to my surprise, they got my order completely wrong and I ended up with what appeared to be 6 ounces of pigeon shit. Apparently, it’s coleslaw. The rogue slaw has made a point to leak it’s white death juice all over everything in it’s range. God, I hate coleslaw. Here, here’s a picture of my sullied mashed potatoes. These are as they came. All I did was put on a protective body suit and remove the heap of renegade coleslaw. Luckily, I got a picture before I gaged myself into an irreversible coma.
Now, pretend we aren’t talking about KFC here, if I told you that was yeast infected vaginal discharge, you wouldn’t doubt me for a second. But in reality, it’s my tainted mashed potatoes with an eye drop of gravy swirled in. I ate it anyway because I have the strength of 1000 men. It was my intention to make sure KFC’s menu had a nice warm spot Rotting In Hell but, fuck that, I love KFC even if their menu sucks it. As I wrote further I realized the villan here is coleslaw in general. Fuck you, coleslaw. Your bitch ass can…