Saturday, January 26, 2013

Back with a vengeance; like a bad case of the clap. Or Huns.

Greetings, intrepid followers!

We're back in business here, at DragonPunch Co. after an unplanned hiatus following a planned one over the Christmas holidays.  I was away from my gaming station over the yuletide season, and then followed some of those fabled RL events which involve my mundane workjob-thing that allows me to afford the finer things in life, like electricity, baloney, and shotgun shells.  Don't judge.

Anywho; for the new year, I asked my good buddy ol' pal Siskoid where I should head off next on my adventure, in the coming new year here.  Here is the excerpt:

6. Where should I go next in Skyrim? Do I go punch vampires, join the rebellion, or do I deal with Delphine's nonsense?
I don't know ANYTHING about Skyrim except what I read on your blog, but I'll say join the rebellion. I don't know what you're rebelling against, but it sound the most character-driven. However, if the vampires shimmer in the sunlight, please feel free to punch the hell out of them.

So; under the suggestion of Sir Oid of Sisk, I went about joining the Stormcloak rebellion.  Or at least, that was my initial intention, with the recent playtime I logged.  (4 hours, roughly 95 screenshot.  Woo lawdy.)

See, Skyrim takes place roughly 2 centuries after the events of Oblivion; while the 'Empire' in Cyrodiil still exists, it's been taken over by the Aldmeri, aka the High Elves.  Elves are dicks.  This isn't news, but I'd like to still point it out.  Now the Empire have been busy and sweeping into Skyrim's southern holds.  This has ostensibly pissed off a bunch of Jarls; notably Ulfric Stormcloak.  Who went and shouted the shit out of Torygg High-King of Skyrim.  Right till he died of yells.  Badass.

The Empire are dicks, and want to steamroll over Skyrim, installing their plutocracy everywhere.  Meanwhile, Ulfric wants to keep Skyrim for the Nords.  And the Nords only.  He's slightly more tolerant of non-Nord Skyrimmians (sp?) but barely so.  Its a really deep and cutting moral choice, playing AS a Nord, that do I want to go with the bureaucrats who'll monetize everything and destroy my culture and history; -or- side with a dude who wishes to preserve the Nord way of life at ANY COST.

Gonna go join da Stormcloaks!  WOOOOOOO!

Logging back into the game since right before Christmas break, I sunk a few more gold coins into my house. Y'know like any other good home-owner.  Here's a shot of my armory!  I decided to decorate a bit, to make it badass.

The 'Bear' Necessities

Lookin' sharp, lookin' sharp.  I've also build a downstairs guest room, which turns out isn't a guest room at all; it's a children's room.  This game will allow me to have kids.  Kids.  CHILDREN.  Holy shit.  That might be one hell of a spin-off for this blog right there.

Anyways, so I go about decorating the kids' room, because Fancy!

Safe for all ages!  Also glitches!

Don't mind me; just duct-taping weapons to the wall of my future sons' room, because I am the awesomest future-dad ever, and whatnot.  What'd you think about it, Lyd--


Oh.  ...oh.  Well maybe when my fictional children will be older, then.  Now, onto business.  Joining the Stormcloak rebellion!  I head on over to Riften, as there's a rebel camp nearby.  Exiting the town, I stumble upon these guys, just hanging around.

Just a band of catpeople, selling drugs, in the nearby wilderness.  Seems legit.

Y'know, I've been meaning to get high off my tits on Moonsugar and Skooma for no reason; might as well support the local economy!  An absurd amount of drugs later, I head on my way, wondering when this stuff will kick in.

Is that man... glowing?

Turns out this guy thus labeled as Vigilant, is a Vigilant of Stendarr, the God of Mercy.  And also the guy who tells his Vigilants to fuck up daedra, daedraspawn, and any other aberration that might wander around at night.  Y'know, like frankensteins, golems, homunculii, manimals, bi-beasts, or even a rare and dreaded Wendersnaven.  But right now he's takin' it to the streets on these wolves.  Well I think they're wolves.  That dude's glowing, and I'm pretty high right now.  He tells me there's vampires around, and that he just killed one.  All I see is three wolf corpses.  I -KNOW- I'm high right now, so I tell him "Talos guide you!" because I'm about to have a bad trip, and wander off.


OMG OMG OMG BUTTERFLYYYYYYYYYY.  I start chasing after him, because his name is Gilbert, and we are now the bestest of friends.  I scamper around Riften's heavily wooded area chasing Gilbert for what feels like hours, until I see someone up ahead, and then this happens:


Butterflies are quite flammable.  And weak against fire.  Like fire will kill them--weak.  So this elf (who is a dick) just killed my bestie, and attacked me without provocation.  Y'know, the guy traipsing around the woods, stoned out of his gourd on moon sugar and skooma.  What could possibly happen?


Teach YOU to killmurder my friend like that.  I'll never replace you, Gilbert.  You were my rock; my anchor;  my everyth--


I will love you and pet you and call you George.  Come here George!  George scampers off because I don't blame him.  If I came running towards myself, I'd be scared too.  He kind of shimmies behind a rocky outcrpping and I lose sight of him for a bit.  George sure is fast!





Son-of-a-bitch MUST. PAY.

No.  I'm not overreacting!  That glazed-over look in my eyes isn't the psychotropic effects of controlled substances!  Those voices in my head only told me to murder that one crab that one time, because he said Solitude sucked, and its actually a really nice town!  I'm sad now.  I've lost Gilbert, I've lost George, so I do what anyone would do.


Steal the man's horse.  Maybe it won't die immediately IF I JUST LOVE HIIIIIIIIM.  LOVE LOVE LOVE.

Meet: Chester.

So me and Chester head off into the sunset.  Except that Chester belonged to a vampire.  I was willing to overlook them while I cemented Skyrim's political fate, but George's death galvanized me.  My true calling for the time being was made clear.  Me and Chester?  We were gonna go hunt vampires.  Dawnguard, here we come!

Rolling in the Helm's Deep.

MTV Cribs would have a field day with this place.  Its this giant old old keep, that was built centuries ago to keep a single vampire locked away, because the Then-Jarl of Riften was a big ol' babbly and kept going "WAH WAH I DUNT WAN TEW KEEL MAH SON A BLOO BLOO BLOO I AM LE SAD." or some junk.  Eventually the guys keeping watch over Kid-Dracula killed him, because REASONS, and they were all kicked out of the clubhouse.  So they just went on killing other vampires while they were hobos, because why not?

That guy is Aegmar; he's a hopeful prospect for the Dawnguard, thinking "Well I don't want to live in fear, so I'll sign up!" Charming lad!  Then I meet this guy chopping wood, halfway up the keep; "Hi there!" I say, still hopped up on goofballs.

Look behind the couch dude; that's where I lose everything!

Ooookaaay... wasn't expecting that response for a hello there.  I mean I'm sorry dude; really.  Losin' wives? That's rough.  Hey what's your name there budd--

Oh dear God.  Your face.

Y-yeah dude.  Vampires.  Vampires are why they left you.  And not because you look like Jigsaw.  Vampires.  Well I'll be going now.  I proceed to run up the remaining steps, before my bad trip makes his face melt off.

Dawnguard keep's pretty big and imposing!  I feel like here, I'll be able to find me some kindred spirits, and clearly they'll accept me because I've made a living and a habit of punching dragons in the face!  I mean that kinda news gets around, yo.  I'm Skyrim-famous.


Toldin is from the Vigilants of Stendarr.  Apparently him and Isran over there had a falling out, because Isran is like the equivalent of the Tea Party against Vampires to Toldin's Republican Party against Vampires.  Toldin doesn't like them, but Isran?  Isran wants to hunt them all down to the very last one.  Crazy.

By now, my euphoric high is gone; I'm left with a deep hunger, and thankfully Isran tells me I can go rummage around the pantry for adventuring supplies before I head out to Dimhollow wherever.  Something about vampires.  Look I'm hungry.  Need me some SNACKS.




I am sufficiently prepared for whatever nonsense.  I mean, vampires?  OK.  Sure.  lets get it on with it.  Dimhollow Caaaaaaaaaaave!  Here I come!



Plunging necklines: easy targets for vampires.  As the Wu once said: PROTEK YA NCEK!

Hello not-nice lady.  You're totes gorge, but also a vamp.  This will not do.  Also you have a weird face, and I'm sorry but it just won't work out between us.  So I,ma have to kill you.  Severely.  And with great pain.  Her drain health spell is also a great pain, as the longer she casts it, the more she undoes my efforts to kill her by replenishing her own health, at the expense of my own!

Let's see what's over here, now...

D&D: Dank & Dungeony.

Well this looks ominous; gate/portcullis thing, weird glow...  mere mortals would fear to tread here.  But what's that!?  I hear the distant din of combat!  SOMEONE IS FIGHTING SOMETHING HUGE!  clang! clang!


This Vampire (Master) killed a giant frostbite spider, seemingly unarmed.  FINALLY.  A CHALLENGE!  Bring it, fangface!


Unfortunately, he was no match either.  Perhaps my aversion to very large frostbite spiders, is not that they're dangerous, but actually just hella-creepy.  All those beady eyes... staring at you.  Eurgh.  Gross.  I feel like I need 10 showers now.

Hey look what's over here:

It's Aldvald, the Vigilant who knew too much!

Poor guy; Toldin said he had gone ahead of us, as he was the wisest of the Vigilant order on Dimhollow cave, and the supposed secrets held here-in.  In the end though, he just ended up yet another corpse; good lookin' one, but still dead as shit.  Sadness.  His death was not in vain though; as turns out the inside of Dimhollow Cave has this huge coliseum built inside of it for some bullshit reason we don't know about yet!

When in Rome...

Might as well go and have a look.  Nothing really bad could happen, right?  Nothing should surprise me any more  after all I've been through since the sacking of Helgen by that dragon.  Nothing at a---


Unless you count getting stabbed in the hand for pressing a button, having a weird purple aura-wall block your path from escaping, and the second you wedge your hand off the booby trap, the floor sinking and revealing this:

Look at that.  Monolith with a skeleton right there so I can smack it with a thighbone.

Well this is balls.  My hand smarts.  Ouch.  I go over to kick the damn thing when it resonates as hollow; and also yells back at me.  Dubya Tee Eff, mate.

If only this wasn't how I met all my womenfriends; freeing them from ancient trap-coffins.

Well well well! A ladygirl!  WOO WOO!  What could this mean!?  Who IS this mystery woman!?  Why does she have an Elder Scroll on her back?  Why do game developers INSIST on abusing black, silver & purple when vampires are involved?

We'll find out, NEXT TIME!  (Hopefully Monday.  2013, we gon' bring it!)

Leave a comment/suggestion/question/etc below for fun or because you want to troll!

No comments:

Post a Comment