The Gaming Iconoclast: Discomfort Zone
A mind, once opened, can never be shut again.
-- Alfred Einstein
Have you ever wondered how the other half lives? Maybe you're a tank, and know the intricacies of threat and mitigation inside and out, but can't figure out what those finger-wigglers at the back are going on about. Or perhaps you're a sniper, and don't care about what goes on in the melee fracas.
When the game itself runs out of challenges for you, and you're not ready to move on, it becomes time to challenge ourselves. We may not be ready or willing to move to another virtual world altogether -- we've got friends in a guild that we want to keep playing with, for example, not to mention all the sparkly toys we've accrued. If you've gotten too good at your primary role, and keep frequent company with a group who is likewise adept at what they do, it can be easy to grow complacent. There are ways to spice things up once in a while, by doing themed events, or partaking in certain vices. But these are temporary measures, more the exception than the rule.
To truly push ourselves, we need to step fully clear from what we've mastered. For some folks, it may be sidling around from the bad guy's face to their back, or trading in some brass knuckles for a crossbow. For me, it meant wading into the thick of the fray, rather than lobbing damage or healing from a more-or-less safe distance. In this spirit, I wanted to learn what those sneaky guys at the top of the damage charts were up to.
How hard could it be, right?
The unfortunate gent pictured here spends an inordinate amount of time pulling his tusks out of the ground, because, and I'll be perfectly honest for a moment, I am really, really bad as a rogue. In a nutshell -- I still have no idea how they do it, but I know they've got a lot to keep track of. Spending an hour in their soft leather boots was an object lesson in the skill required to be merely competent, much less chart-toppingly proficient.
We shall not discuss the clanking comedy of errors that was my foray into tank territory.
Suitably humbled, but with a whole lot more respect for those folks who spend their time staring at ankles during combat, the experience has nevertheless proven beneficial during my "day job." Knowing more viscerally how these classes are engaged during combat means that I can make more informed decisions when it comes time to lay down some healing or ranged fire. The flip side is also true -- someone who spends their time going toe to toe with the opposition and then gives casting a whirl gets a taste of what trading plate for pajamas is like.
The upshot of this is a keen appreciation of the skill of those around us, coupled with a clearer, more nuanced understanding of what goes into being adept at their role. When we grok in fullness what each member of our team is doing, that makes the whole unit better.
Knowing more about the skills and abilities other classes first-hand is useful for another reason -- it encourages us to try things with our main character that might never have crossed our mind, because we'd "always done it that way." Getting a taste of something very different from one's usual approach allows us to bring a fresh perspective when we return. Besides, when you return to your main after a brief tour of Noobville, it feels awfully good to go back to kicking butt after being the kickee and not the kicker.
Rafe Brox spends an inordinate amount of time annoying people who think they know more than he does. When not causing friends and enemies alike to /facepalm electronically, he can be found extolling the virtues of the weird peripherals in his life, from kettlebells to the Trackman Marble. If you, too, would like to tell Rafe exactly how wrong he is doing it, the target coordinates are rafe.brox AT weblogsinc DOT com.
