Maniacal Laughter

The other day, I met up with an old friend from my WoW guild, in SWTOR.  (The name was unique and unmistakeable.)  After waving and exchanging the usual pleasantries, he commented he had operations that night and asked what my plans were for the evening.  I told him it was going to be a PVP night for me--run a few warzones, have some fun.

He surprised me by saying that on his character, he had not run a single warzone.  Not one.

Now, to be fair, Hikarinoko had only run one instance at that point in time.  The server on which she had been playing was, to put it mildly, pretty dead.  It's difficult to find a group when there are only three people on the entire planet.  (Full disclosure: she still has only run one instance . . . I need to gain the confidence I can heal a group well enough in unfamiliar territory before queueing in the random group finder.  But, hey, if I can keep Kaliyo alive over something like 20 minutes while we're beating our heads over a gold elite, I can probably manage to keep an actual geared player tank alive . . .)

We found ourselves on the opposite ends of the spectrum:  him focusing on the PVE instance side, and me focusing more on PVP.  (Of course, I quest, so that's PVE, but you get the point . . .)

I've run enough instances in other situations to know they can be a thrill, especially when the encounters are new and you're still figuring them out, or when something goes wrong.  Once the instances become very familiar, they can end up feeling more like a grind, unless you are playing with friends.

But with PVP, you never quite know what to expect.  Unlike working your way through groups of mobs as you go up a pathway on a hill or even facing off against a boss, nothing is entirely predictable.  You may end up opposing an extremely well-organized group which completely trounces your team into the dirt.  You may end up dominating the other team, an unspoken synergy flowing through you and your teammates, as you figuratively high-five that bounty hunter who teamed with you to defend a capture node.  Or you may find the battle fairly evenly matched, with the balance of power trading sides and the outcome anything but predetermined.

The other day, while on a Novare Coast battle, I found myself solo-defending the east node.  A smuggler ran up as I waited in stealth.  Knowing I am not a very good one-on-one duelist, I called to my teammates in Ops chat, telling them I had someone incoming and that I was alone.  (Even if the defender is a good duelist, it's better to have another player assisting, just in case something goes wrong, so I felt no shame in communicating with my teammates.)

By all indications, however, nobody seemed to have heard me.  I ended up running in circles with this smuggler--thankfully not a healer--trading off dps, while I hit Evasion, my shield, and stacked HoTs on myself, occasionally dropping to cover to toss a bomb or Snipe.  I kept expecting to be dead at any moment, but somehow I kept living . . . and after a few more heals and another Snipe or two, I found myself standing over his dead body.

I think it is the first time . . . ever . . . I have faced a character in a PVP situation one-on-one and emerged victorious, in any game.  I couldn't believe it!  A small glow peeked out of my cautious and slightly puzzled heart as I accepted the realization I had actually been successful.  (I knew, however, not to press my luck, and the next time he came around, apparently rather mad, if the way he attacked was any indication, I did manage to get someone up there to help out . . .)

I know my old friend is enjoying himself hugely, running his guild and organizing their operations.  And in the past, (*cough* 3.5 years in WoW), I have greatly enjoyed being a cog in the machinery of a raid, helping to ensure the group ran smoothly and saw success.

But there is something about organized PVP which keeps drawing me back.  Maybe it's the (possibly misguided) notion that every player counts . . . that the decision of a single player can turn the tide of a game.  For example, a player may make the decision to watch a node for stealthers instead of running back into the fray . . . or he might take the opportunity to sneak up and capture a node while one's teammates have distracted the foe away from it.  (Did that the other day, and it changed a loss into a victory, as my teammates rallied around the newly captured node to defend it from the enemy.)  Maybe it's the active and constant pace, which requires "thinking on one's feet" or the determination to get back up and get back into the action instead of becoming discouraged.  Maybe it's the adrenaline rush, which heightens my overall sense of well-being.

At any rate, every time I jump off safe area platforms after rezzing, arriving just in time to keep a teammate from falling over or firing a single shot at that enemy player trying to plant a bomb or capture a node, I feel like bursting out in maniacal laughter . . .

(. . . . of course, part of that maniacal laughter could be because I'm still moving, and the whole thing is stressing me out terribly . . . good reason to seek out the catharsis of PVP . . . brb, gotta kill something . . .)