Those in the know will have recognised the World of Warcraft leetspeak.
I've started playing less than 2 months ago, I'm hooked.
In a nutshell, WoW is an computer game that one plays on the internet. A massive virtual world has been invented and is hosted on an equally massive server, where every player has a character.
Of a given race (human, dwarf, gnome, night elf, Draenei, orc, troll, undead, tauren or blood elf)
Of a given class (warrior, mage, priest, warlock, hunter, paladin, shaman, druid, rogue)
And then on with a list of attributes that make it unique (or so they say).
Everyone character lives in the same world, so I can play with other characters to fulfill quests I've received in the game and that are too hard to complete by myself. When I meet a character from the Horde (bad guys, me Alliance good guy), battle ensues and I usually lose.
The items (like pieces of armor, weapons, potions, food...) I win from killing monsters (that aren't players from the Horde) I can use for myself, or sell to other players. Which means, if I need a new piece of armor, I'm going to buy it from another player too.
There are many things going for this game/type of game. It's become fairly popular, so the player population isn't only teenage male nerds with no social life. The fact that you can play many kinds of characters (fighters/healers, tall/small, cute/ugly, male/female, loyal/vicious...) gives the opportunity to be someone else "in there". The world is big and varied, the quests are challenging, the interactivity is pretty good. I like it.
So, what does it say about me?
I'm a night elf, the tallest and supposedly most beautiful race. I'm a male, that says what that says. I'm a hunter, I kill from afar and let a domesticated pet (a boar at the moment) get beaten for me. But I'm not killing from behind like a rogue. And I can play solo a lot.
My first profession is miner, because everyone wants metal and I can sell it at insane prices and be rich fast.
My second profession is enchanter, but I don't like it much.
I can cook, fish and make bandages (cuz everyone can and I need to feed my pet).
I'm level 30 in less than 2 months. I'm playing way to much.
Oh and I talked at the first person, which means that I'm a good audience, and that maybe I put too much of myself in there.
If anyone plays WoW on the european servers (in french or english), let me know. I'd very much like to try a horde chara, a warlock, and Engineering professions. And it may just be fun to meet halfway between the immaterial world of the blog and the very material world of RL.
Lhaatinn
27 mars 2007
a month of news
The sad news of the day (for an aircraft enthusiast)
We have received a little mail at work this afternoon that the A300-600 MSN878 has left the Final Assembly Line at Airbus today. This particular aircraft is the last aircraft of the Wide Body family that was to be built by airbus. It's the direct descendant of the A300B2 that first flew on October 28th, 1972 and launched airbus into the aeronautics industry.
!972 was years before my birth, by I still feel quite sad to see those airplanes go. Of course, those that have just been delivered will still fly for many years for their operators, but still, I'm sad. And those who lived in toulouse around 1973-1974 (as my parents who I sent a mail to to annouce the news) may feel a bit of nostalgy tonight.
Apart from that, you ask?
I'm going to Paris this week end, see friends, see Flo, see Manon, and party like hell.
I'm going to Holland for Easter, see the parents, see the tulips and eat a pannekoek.
Work is ok, better than it had been for a long time. Except I have maybe too much to handle at the moment.
Post scriptum: Flo, j'ai toujours la photo de ta gamine dans son fauteuil/landau ou autre sur le bureau sur mon ordi. A chaque fois que je vois la vignette, je m'arrete dessus. Et je dois bien ouvrir la photo 3 fois par jour. J'ai hate de vous revoir.
Post scriptum 2: everyone else, Flo has the cutest baby ever, and I'm seeing them both in 5 days!!! I stand by my statement.
We have received a little mail at work this afternoon that the A300-600 MSN878 has left the Final Assembly Line at Airbus today. This particular aircraft is the last aircraft of the Wide Body family that was to be built by airbus. It's the direct descendant of the A300B2 that first flew on October 28th, 1972 and launched airbus into the aeronautics industry.
!972 was years before my birth, by I still feel quite sad to see those airplanes go. Of course, those that have just been delivered will still fly for many years for their operators, but still, I'm sad. And those who lived in toulouse around 1973-1974 (as my parents who I sent a mail to to annouce the news) may feel a bit of nostalgy tonight.
Apart from that, you ask?
I'm going to Paris this week end, see friends, see Flo, see Manon, and party like hell.
I'm going to Holland for Easter, see the parents, see the tulips and eat a pannekoek.
Work is ok, better than it had been for a long time. Except I have maybe too much to handle at the moment.
Post scriptum: Flo, j'ai toujours la photo de ta gamine dans son fauteuil/landau ou autre sur le bureau sur mon ordi. A chaque fois que je vois la vignette, je m'arrete dessus. Et je dois bien ouvrir la photo 3 fois par jour. J'ai hate de vous revoir.
Post scriptum 2: everyone else, Flo has the cutest baby ever, and I'm seeing them both in 5 days!!! I stand by my statement.
25 février 2007
trains
It took me years to stop messing my journeys by train.
I wish I'd at least know where I'm going in my journey through life.
I wish I'd at least know where I'm going in my journey through life.
13 février 2007
petit questionnaire
ok, ok, je vais mettre mon blog a jour en francais!!
tire du blog de monpetitchaton
7 choses que je fais bien:
heu
ben
sortir des blagues a la con
parler anglais
maintenir ma chambre dans un desordre digne de ce nom
pedaler (c'est pas complique, mais bon)
me passionner pour les trucs les plus inhabituels
7 choses que je fais mal:
ecouter
cuisiner
conduire
menager la sensibilite des autres
parler allemand
me retenir d'ennuyer le monde avec mes trucs inhabituels
jouer au squash
7 choses que j'aime chez les femmes (personne en particulier mais certaines en particulier)
la vivacite
la sensibilite
les formes la ou il faut
les yeux
les interets partages
la difference de perception
la tuture!!
7 beguins celebres:
Jane March
Christina Ricci
Emilie Dequenne
Boo!! (Monsters, Inc.)
Mena Suvari
Jennifer Connelly (en tirant sur la corde)
Paris Hilton, Katie Holmes et Anna Nicole Smith
7 personnes qui doivent faire ce petit jeu:
j'suis pas sur d'avoir 7 lecteurs!! Mais si vous voulez participer, plus il y a de fous plus il y a de riz!
tire du blog de monpetitchaton
7 choses que je fais bien:
heu
ben
sortir des blagues a la con
parler anglais
maintenir ma chambre dans un desordre digne de ce nom
pedaler (c'est pas complique, mais bon)
me passionner pour les trucs les plus inhabituels
7 choses que je fais mal:
ecouter
cuisiner
conduire
menager la sensibilite des autres
parler allemand
me retenir d'ennuyer le monde avec mes trucs inhabituels
jouer au squash
7 choses que j'aime chez les femmes (personne en particulier mais certaines en particulier)
la vivacite
la sensibilite
les formes la ou il faut
les yeux
les interets partages
la difference de perception
la tuture!!
7 beguins celebres:
Jane March
Christina Ricci
Emilie Dequenne
Boo!! (Monsters, Inc.)
Mena Suvari
Jennifer Connelly (en tirant sur la corde)
Paris Hilton, Katie Holmes et Anna Nicole Smith
7 personnes qui doivent faire ce petit jeu:
j'suis pas sur d'avoir 7 lecteurs!! Mais si vous voulez participer, plus il y a de fous plus il y a de riz!
26 janvier 2007
...I received a gift today
Bad day, bad week, bad month.
I probably haven't been so close to depression in years, or is it that I haven't been that deep in a depression as I am now.
I hate my life, I hate my job, and I loathe myself with my weaknesses and superficiality. I hate being the fool, I hate feeling like everyone's better than me, is happier than me, is brighter than me, is more energetic than me. I hate being left behind. I hate being on the edge of any group but not part of it. I hate the cold that forces me inside and won't allow me to cycle my problems away. I hate being lonely. I hate not having anyone to talk to, I hate living by myself, sharing only the scrapes of paint of my life and nothing deeper. I hate having to deal with complete morons, having to listen to people I hate, having to not shout how stupid they are, having to stay there and not run away in a deep hole in the middle of the Massif Central. I hate lusting about a freaking bike, because the only use of that bike is the excitement that comes before I buy it. Build excitement by whatever means, if it can alleviate the sadness and the emptiness.
I got a gift today. In my mail box. It has my address on it, three times, so it's mine. It's an internet-bought gift. sent in an anonymous bubble-wrapped white enveloppe. Regular mail, coming from somewhere in the department 72 (no idea where that is). I can feel by the deformation pattern that it's a book, paperback, not an inch thick, 5 by 7 maybe. The book is a blue manga, with an elaborate cover. On the binding side (right one, it's published in the original reading direction), a crying woman is drawn, from slightly above. Dark haired, big sad eyes. The background against which her lines are drawn is the photograph of water drops on a glass surface. The woman wears a shirt on a simple Tshirt, and maybe a skirt.
On the left side, the book title Vague a l'ame and the artist's name, Mari Okazaki. No idea if that's a man or a woman.
It only took that long, to get me to the verge of tears. Bad day, bad week, bad month, depressing music on my bus ride from work (Apocalyptica plays Metallica by Four Cellos), and an anonymous book in my mailbox that ostensibly deals with the wanderings of the soul. Less than a minute from the moment I found the package in the mailbox to the moment I opened it in my flat.
There was the receipt of the delivery form inside the book, it was bought at one of online shops I know. No information on who bought it. The gift shall remain anonymous until the gracious friend who sent it tells me he's the one.
There's a certain romance to this anonymity, it feels like there's someone watching after me from afar. It's comforting, it's reassuring, it says "hey, even if you haven't told it to anyone, I know you're not doing well and I care". Flimsy sentiment, but if that's the only thing that keeps in the sane world, then I'll deal with the flimsy.
So, to whoever has offered my this precious gift, thank you, it's more appreciated than you probably thought it would be. Simply give me a little time to read the 3 remaining short stories. The first was great, but I can't read when I'm crying.
I probably haven't been so close to depression in years, or is it that I haven't been that deep in a depression as I am now.
I hate my life, I hate my job, and I loathe myself with my weaknesses and superficiality. I hate being the fool, I hate feeling like everyone's better than me, is happier than me, is brighter than me, is more energetic than me. I hate being left behind. I hate being on the edge of any group but not part of it. I hate the cold that forces me inside and won't allow me to cycle my problems away. I hate being lonely. I hate not having anyone to talk to, I hate living by myself, sharing only the scrapes of paint of my life and nothing deeper. I hate having to deal with complete morons, having to listen to people I hate, having to not shout how stupid they are, having to stay there and not run away in a deep hole in the middle of the Massif Central. I hate lusting about a freaking bike, because the only use of that bike is the excitement that comes before I buy it. Build excitement by whatever means, if it can alleviate the sadness and the emptiness.
I got a gift today. In my mail box. It has my address on it, three times, so it's mine. It's an internet-bought gift. sent in an anonymous bubble-wrapped white enveloppe. Regular mail, coming from somewhere in the department 72 (no idea where that is). I can feel by the deformation pattern that it's a book, paperback, not an inch thick, 5 by 7 maybe. The book is a blue manga, with an elaborate cover. On the binding side (right one, it's published in the original reading direction), a crying woman is drawn, from slightly above. Dark haired, big sad eyes. The background against which her lines are drawn is the photograph of water drops on a glass surface. The woman wears a shirt on a simple Tshirt, and maybe a skirt.
On the left side, the book title Vague a l'ame and the artist's name, Mari Okazaki. No idea if that's a man or a woman.
It only took that long, to get me to the verge of tears. Bad day, bad week, bad month, depressing music on my bus ride from work (Apocalyptica plays Metallica by Four Cellos), and an anonymous book in my mailbox that ostensibly deals with the wanderings of the soul. Less than a minute from the moment I found the package in the mailbox to the moment I opened it in my flat.
There was the receipt of the delivery form inside the book, it was bought at one of online shops I know. No information on who bought it. The gift shall remain anonymous until the gracious friend who sent it tells me he's the one.
There's a certain romance to this anonymity, it feels like there's someone watching after me from afar. It's comforting, it's reassuring, it says "hey, even if you haven't told it to anyone, I know you're not doing well and I care". Flimsy sentiment, but if that's the only thing that keeps in the sane world, then I'll deal with the flimsy.
So, to whoever has offered my this precious gift, thank you, it's more appreciated than you probably thought it would be. Simply give me a little time to read the 3 remaining short stories. The first was great, but I can't read when I'm crying.
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