Guild Wars 2

Haven’t been around lately, though maybe I’ll have some more time from today to the end of July.

Also, I modified this.

And I saw a beast rising out of the patch, with toughness and vitality, without damage on its attributes and blasphemous healing power on its heads. And the beast that I saw was like a Settler’s; its major was like a Knight’s, and its minor was like a Soldier’s. And to it the Cleric gave his Healing and his Toughness, but not his minor power. One of its heads seemed to have been kicked, but it was reinvited, and all the casuals marveled as they followed the beast. And they worshiped the Cleric, for he had given his attributes to the beast, and they worshiped the beast, saying, “I play how I want, and stacking is for noob zergburgers” And the beast was given healing shouts, and it never dropped a banner during his runs.

I wAke up from nightmares—raging, confused, and upset. It’s getting worse. I’ve decided to stack some magic find. I’ve probably just been farming too hard.

Every run, the same terrors. It never chaNges. The magic find boosters were unable to help me, and I feel like I’m losing control of myself.

When the fractal starts, an entity calls to mE (with poor signal, if I may add). I climb—climb onto that set of tubes. But no matter how hard I try to get on that ledge, it keeps getting fixed.

I’m trying not to run them—too scared to even think of those skins… So scared. Groans come from the underground all nighT long, downing me, rallying me, cc’ing me.

Tonight, I saw it. I stared into the abyss, and it stared back at me. So much Protection. I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore.

Control of my runs, of my loot, is sLipping through my hands. And yet, I’m no longer scared.

It communicated with me through images of cc, endleSs respawns, and clowncars. I must know more. I must confront it and put an end to this madness.

Remember to always place your trust in the Holy Trinity of DPS.

• May Power, the Father grant you His Might to rain death in the form of large numbers on top of your enemies.
• May Precision, the Son, with His Fury guide your blades into the flimsiest of their armor.
• Though fallen, may Ferocity, the Holy Spirit, imbue you and magnify the virtues of both, the Father and the Son, so that your blows may fall heavy on your foes taking on the shape of more hard-hitting crits.

Spared and blessed be the followers of the Assassin that, though slightly bent on their ways, share our vision of smooth and efficient speedruns.

May you never degenerate and fall and be led astray to the misguided ways of the Rampager, or the nefarious path of the Soldier, or the wretched lanes of the Rabid.

May your faith in the Berserker never falter, your Fury never quenched, and your Might always stacked to 25.
For Great Justice!
Amen.

(I’ll be adding more things over time).

Hm… my weeaboo senses are tingling.