As many of you are no doubt aware, I've been forced of late to do something against my very nature -- something so vile and abhorrent that I can scarcely keep the bile down as I partake in it. No, it isn't wearing pants. It's far, far worse.
You see, I decided to participate in our Choose My Adventure series, and as is customary for those who do so, I left the decision-making to you, dear readers. In your vast, collective wisdom (and keen sense of irony), you decided I should be shackled to that thing I hate most. Again, not wearing pants. But, as longtime (or even first-time) readers of this column may have guessed, there remains one thing I hate more than having my lower half clad in fabric, and that thing is warlocks. "Har har," you said to yourselves (in my imagination, you are all pirates), "Belt should play a warlock! That'd be hilarious."
Well it isn't hilarious. It isn't hilarious at all.
Did you know that warlocks have a scent? It's the sulfurous stench of disappointment. Playing one has thus far been an exercise in humility. I am constantly reminded that there are those out there who select one of these godless avatars from the character selection screen on purpose, and do so on a daily basis. I feel there ought to be some sort of fund to which I can, for the price of a cup of coffee per day, sponsor these poor wayward souls and somehow elevate them to a better life.
Still, I feel I have been able to glean at least one thing of value from this experience thus far:
Mages are awesome.
This is a fact of which I have been aware since the day my newborn undead mage stumbled out of his crypt in Tirisfal Glades and set fire to his first zombie. But being compelled to see how the other half lives has given me new insight into the inherent awesomeness of the mage class. I'd feel sympathy for warlocks if I didn't hate them so very, very much.
Below, you will find a collection of love letters to my class. I offer them up as a way to cleanse the warlockian taint from my soul. My motives are purely selfish. Still, if you happen to play a mage, perhaps you will also benefit from hearing my testimony, as I bear witness to the glory of the mage. If you don't play a mage, well, you can always repent.
Dear Deep Freeze,
In PvP, you are an absolute stunner. Every 30 seconds, you stop somebody in their tracks, frozen solid at the sight of you.
But it is in PvE, when fighting a boss who is otherwise immune to your stunning charms, that you truly deliver your greatest impact. Oh, how I yearn to see you crit! Waiting for your cooldown is torture. But it's well worth it when I see the gorgeous DPS spike that happens every time you walk into the room.
We've had our hard times, to be sure. Remember when you didn't do any damage? I still loved you, but those were very hard times. Still, we overcame, and when you learned to blow the crap out of bosses, our relationship moved to the next level. Don't ever change, Deep Freeze. Except, you know, scaling in the next expansion. Totally do that.
Dearest Ice Block,
So many times I've found myself at the end of my rope, facing total destruction. Maybe I pulled aggro on something 20 times my size, something with claws as long as my torso. Maybe I drew the attention of that death knight wearing a full set of Wrathful gear. No matter the crisis, you're always there for me, ready to instantly turn me into a massive magesicle, immune to any incoming harm. I love you so.
Remember that day last week when we were fighting that warlock in Wintergrasp? He put all of his nasty curses and venereal diseases or whatever on us, and it felt terrible, but then I cast you, and they all went away. Then we set him on fire and watched him burn. Then we did unspeakable things to his corpse. Remember that? Good times.
My love Pyroblast,
Holy crap are you hot!
I mean seriously, super hot. I want to kiss you, but I'm pretty sure you'd vaporize my face entirely if I tried. Still, I wouldn't want you any other way. Every time I see you make a kobold explode or a warlock burn hotter than the face of the sun, it warms my little magey soul far more than even your giant boulder of flame should have the power to do.
You make my heart explode just like that kobold, Pyroblast.
I love you so much,
Dear Missile Barrage,
I'm never happier than when I see you proc. You bring arcane light to my darkest days. You take my poor, slow, expensive Arcane Missiles and make them fast and free. I like to save you for those moments when my Arcane Blast stack is at its maximum, when you can truly show how powerful you are. I extend my hand and you hurl yourself from it, a stream of five consecutive arrows right into my heart. Or rather, into the heart of the Lich King.
I love the way you look, I love the way you sound, I love everything about you. I'm worried, though. I hear that in Cataclysm, Arcane Missiles is changing to be a proc-based spell, similar to the way you work now. Does that mean that you'll be going away? Say it isn't so! I love you too much to lose you, Missile Barrage.
Dear Conjured Mana Strudel,
Mmmm. So tasty. So flaky, so sweet, so refreshing. I want to lick your crust.
Get in my belly,
My beloved sheep,
Wait. That came out wrong. Oh, who cares? I love you, and I don't care who knows. If loving sheep is wrong, I don't want to be right. Cough.
Dear Flaming Orb,
I know we've never met, but you sound awesome. I can't wait for level 81, you gorgeous ball of fiery destructive beams, you. Until then, we can just keep exchanging jpegs on Myspace. I swear that's really me. Yes, I really do look like Raistlin from Dragonlance.
That's all for now. I love so much about being a mage, it was difficult to limit myself to just a thousand words on the subject. I'll leave the rest to you, my fellow mages and mage-lovers. What part of magehood do you love enough to rhapsodize about?
Every week, Arcane Brilliance teleports you inside the wonderful world of mages and then hurls a Fireball in your face. Check out our recent look at how much I hate damage meters or our lengthy series of mage leveling guides. Until next week, keep the mage-train a-rollin'.