A rational part of my mind kept lecturing me that this was all folly, that I had done this a million times before, that it was just first night excitement, that it would all wear off and leave me feeling like a hollow shell of a gamer soon enough. I think that part of my mind is a party pooper, because I had a blast last evening in WoW Classic — even if I did spend half of my time waiting in lines.
I couldn’t help but get caught up in the hype as the day progressed. I was listening to the vanilla Warcraft soundtrack, rewatched the WoW Classic announcement trailer a few (dozen) times, and arranged everything around the house so that when 6:00 pm rolled around, I might have a chance at playing.
A couple of minutes before the hour, the server button lit up, I clicked, and I was in with no waiting whatsoever. Of course, I was immediately thrust into a seething mass of Gnomes and Dwarves. It was ridiculously comical, the likes I have rarely seen in the game (and recalling faint memories of 2004’s launch). My attitude was relaxed and touristy, more focused on experiencing than progressing. Probably a good thing, too, because trying to complete quests in those first few minutes was an exercise in racing against a barbarian horde, all crushing down on bewildered wolves who lived about 0.1 seconds before they met their doom.
Gradually it got better. I had Questie installed as my sole mod to help with minimap cues, and with that assistance I retraced my steps from long ago. I rejoiced when a six-slot bag dropped, equipped grey gear, and got into absurdly long lines of players to patiently wait to click on slowly regenerating quest items.
It was also a lesson in adjusting to how things used to work in the game. I was perpetually broke trying to afford new spells and pet abilities. I made the solemn journey from Ironforge to Stormwind via the tram to get the flight path. I picked up mining and spent 45 minutes or so puttering around grabbing copper.
And then as the clock neared 10:00 pm, I saw on Twitter that Belghast had formed a Horde guild and I was like… well crud. I hadn’t really connected with anyone over on Alliance, so I bit the bullet and rerolled as an Undead Warlock. I figured I wasn’t in much of a rush anyway, so I’d rather take the time hit and be with people that I like than continue on alone.
Of course, there went my six-slot bag. And my copper. And seven levels. But I consoled myself by reminding myself how much I liked the Forsaken areas back in the day, so it’s not torture or anything to return to this.