I wish I was a stronger man. I wish I had an ironclad will. But truth be told, I’m a capricious gamer who’s always looking on the other side of the fence to see if the grass is greener or not.
Last night I was doing endless runs to the top of this tree in RIFT so that I could jump down mushrooms and hopefully get an achievement for it (spoiler: I did not after 40 attempts… and I checked everything to make sure I was doing it right). Doing something over and over again mindlessly allows you with plenty of time to think, and the thought that kept bubbling up was, “I don’t think I like the Cleric.”
“Shut up!” I said back, startling my two-year-old who was playing nearby. “Sorry honey, not you, just daddy’s capricious mind.”
“No, no cookie. Time for bed.”
And though I knew it was best to just vanquish that thought, I couldn’t quite do it. RIFT’s clerics are neat, but ultimately not for me. I don’t like the weapons or the look, and the roles have gotten stale. It kept making me think of the rogue, which entertained me greatly all the way through the end of the game.
I can’t start over, I thought. I’m level 38. I’ve put weeks into this character now and am on track for the expansion. TSW starts up in a week or so.
But there I was. The grass was greener on the rogue side, and I wanted to go back to that class. Now, the savvy among you will remember that I do have a level 50 rogue and would probably just recommend I pick her up and go on from there. And that’s a thought — she’s certainly more endgame ready at this point. Maybe I will. But she didn’t do all of the achievements like I’ve been doing with my cleric, and I hate going back to do those instead of just doing them while leveling. I also don’t remember where I left off with her or how to really play her. So the appeal of starting fresh (again) is dang strong.
Or I could, of course, just stick it out with the cleric and be driven mad by that lush, green grass. Oh, it just looks like heaven for my tender feet to trod upon!
I haven’t decided. I know it makes me look and sound weak to be like this, but I can’t help it. The altoholic in me is straining at the leash in its attempt to be a rogue again. Bombs! Bard! BAMF!
Darn that grass. Gets me into trouble every time.