For Want of a Priest, the Kingdom was Lost

This week a former guildmate told me the old Star Wars Galaxies guild was disbanding … merging, being absorbed, scattering to the four winds. I won’t go into a whole Glory Days thing here, but as a ragtag PvP guild with a small membership, there was a time when we were the shit.

Not just in our own minds either, although we each had a healthy ego — we were regularly called hackers, stackers, bangers and motherf, well, you get the idea. We weren’t particularly skilled or talented. We were, however, extremely … how to say? … intense. Focused. Every guild and member activity was focused on improving team pvp activities.

That was our super secret strategy: exponential teamwork.

After Sony announced that the combat and pvp revamp was delayed until after the Jump to Lightspeed demon expansion, we decided it was time for a gaming vacation before the arrival of World of Warcraft.

The requisite timesink for a (maybe) ten-minute squirmish by the Coronet cantina became a burden: dancer + musician buffs several minutes, and heaven help you if someone was late in arriving for the buff rounds, doctor buffs another couple of minutes, check combat supplies (and there’s always some idiot that doesn’t have food, drink, med kits, needs repairs or what the fuck ever) — it was all so whacked.

Then YAY!! Thirty minutes later we were ready to ride out for the interplanetary hunt of any other players who weren’t whoring for a jedi unlock. We’d have our ten (maybe) minute fight, and about then it was time to watch the buff timers, repair bikes and armor, and juggle the food/drink timers.

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XYU

What now my love, what now my precious?

And even as we enjoy the splendors of insta-travel, and even as we enjoy the wonders of NPCs-for-hire, and even as we bully our way through the Primary Quest Line many levels before the commoners … still we are blockaded by the pathing, and yet we are denied by conspiracy respawn.

Out of the jaws of the proverbial agony of defeat, we have snatched victory. Two seconds on the timer and three mobs beating our ass during the cinematic, I say “ka-boom!”

I hurt where I can’t feel, I feel where I can’t hurt.
I know where I can’t know, I bleed for me and mine.
Ka-boom, a rat-tat-tat, and some good ole bliss
Cause I’m a sister, and I’m a motherfuck.

Mary had a little lamb, her face was white, white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went, I was sure to go.

Now Mary’s got a problem, and Mary’s not a stupid girl.
Mary’s got some deep shit, and Mary does not forget.
And this is how Mary’s garden grows, and this is how Mary has her ghosts.

And into the eyes of the jackal I say “ka-boom!”

Now bow, nigger.

(Derviative of many … Smashing Pumpkins/Billy Corgan, Tolkien and that Ian “nigger” dude. Not that I ever met an Ian that used the word nigger. OMG, just saying.)