Welcome fellow wizards & witches! The Smiling Sorcerer here, and welcome to my very first post, and what I’d like to call “The Sorcerer and the Healing tone.” (Bonus points for whoever can get the reference). This will be a prologue to a “interactive story” series, that narrates a telling of a veteran MMO player that’s going from years of being a typical mage to that of a healing class, all told from a storytelling perspective. It will be done in this way to give my two cents on both archetypes and thoughts on styles of game-play, while still having a way to entertain readers.
It will cover just the basics of each individual archetype, along with the differences in strategies that each of them seems to have, and will not cover any specific game itself (yet).
And at the end of each post, YOU the viewer will get to decide how certain parts of this story evolve and progress. So without further ado, let the interactive story begin…
Part one: A Sorcerer of Destruction
Kill or be killed. That’s the philosophy behind a practitioner of elemental magic…the only question is, HOW should I kill? That’s the phrase that plagued my decaying mind the most, as I gazed into countless pairs of fearful eyes day after day.
Should I burn them alive, freeze their hearts cold, inflict slow inducing poison? There are so many spells to choose from, it’s hard to pick just one…but I suppose the versatility of the pain I could inflict upon my enemies, is what attracted me to study the ways of the elements in the first place. Not to mention, the power that comes along with those skill-sets. I mean, if you have plans to take over a whole world, why wouldn’t you want to have immense power at your fingertips?
Be able to kill with nearly one spell, rain death and destruction upon your enemies while standing at a safe distance as they all drop dead like helpless, little flies. If you ever had a power hungry ego, like me, nothing could be more satisfying…at least that’s how it felt in the beginning…
When I first started my venture in the conquering business, like most things are at the start, everything was so fresh and new. The joy that came across my tooth-gaped face from the pain that was inflicted by my boney hands was equivalent to that of a child waking to find their favorite gift on Christmas morning. In fact, every day was like Christmas for me. My enemies the presents and their spilling guts the gift as I exploded them open with just one sequence of magical words. Words that conquered, dominated and severed everything and all that the world had to offer. Towns, villages, castles, even kings and queens eventually fell upon my feet instantly…almost too instant.
Most of the spells I had acquired through my years of pillaging and killing were ones that didn’t take much thought at all, just point and shoot and the opponent is done for. I suppose in hindsight, the fact enemies could be dealt with so quickly was a good thing, as cloth was the only thing between the thin line of life and death. And it was death was in fact, that was the final straw that started me second guessing my decision.
Though technically, how can you really kill what’s already dead inside?
Part Two: The ways of Healing
Fight, kill, die, resurrect, rinse and repeat. Boredom was the true killer, not me. Every day, I’d wake from my stone-like slumber and do the exact same thing over and over again. There was no love in the power anymore, just an empty hollow feeling inside.
All this power and there wasn’t a soul to show it off to. Most of the population was killed, or like the future ladder, got bored and ventured off. I only chose to stay because of the nature of a sorcerer’s studies. Sorcerers are powerful casters that can summon both beast and burden upon their victims, a profession that, if careful can dominate nearly anything with little to no help at all.
Sure you’re capable of handling things yourself, but that’s all it was, handling things. There was no “grand battle” or strategy involved. Eventually it became a pretty lonely existence…and that’s when a decision was made to have once cursed hands try something new. The art of healing. After all, healing is always in demand. However, it was going to be one of the hardest things that would ever be attempted by an evil entity…both in skill and in socialization.
But who would in their right mind ask for help from a stubborn, bone-headed killer? It wasn’t until view of my first “test subjects,” where the question really began to sink in deep…
Since cloth was still the only line of defense, it wasn’t hard going into the fray with a new guise.
Soon thrown into battle, it became apparent that in reality a sorcerer and healer while having some similarities, where two completely different areas of study. Short or instant one word spells were now replaced with reciting long phrases that took handfuls of seconds to complete…time that in all honesty, always seemed to be on shorthand.
The time it would take to support one person would often mean sacrificing attention on others, creating a backed up line of either mistakes or rush in judgement. Sure, group support was also available, but reciting those spells meant while everyone could get support at the same time, each person would only receive a slight boost in recovery. This would often make those involved angered or upset over the fact that they weren’t always at peak condition. Needless to say, the art of this study came with a lot of backlash. Backlash that would ultimately make the rotting mind go from insane to serenity and back again.
On one boney hand, companionship was finally within reach. Loneliness that was once felt within a hollow heart was again filled with the joy of seeing others. Those that once afraid, though few were left, were now welcoming and kind instead of cold and distant. On the other though, in the deep, dark corners of their minds, much like the dungeons that would be visited, they harbored demand and precision on a constant basis. Something that when tasked with overlooking groups of companions was hard to do…especially for someone who was fairly new at the venture.
Many times, it felt as if anything was less than timely and perfect, your “companions” would chew your head off for it. Their lack of gratefulness in my acts of trying, often drove my already crazy-self mad.
Mad enough to pose the question…Should I just waste them all and give into destruction once again, or find those that would be grateful for my attempt at trying to become a better person.