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Jack kicked his bedroom door shut, loudly and dramatically, but it didn't really matter since nobody but him and Blake were allowed in the apartment.
They'd made a lot of money that night, especially given how little work they'd actually done, and they were celebrating the only way they knew how. His hands were tangled in her hair while he kissed her, leaving her no real choice but to walk backwards until she collided with his dresser. His hands dropped from her hair to her hips just long enough to hoist her up so that she could sit on the dresser and once she seemed comfortable, he pulled back and smiled, resting his forehead against hers.
“I take it you enjoyed making all that money tonight?” he mumbled, smirking. She was pawing at the buttons on his shirt, impatient. Money wasn't what was important. Blake didn't need money. Blake had money. A lot of it, in fact. It wasn't that they'd made money but, instead, how they'd made it. Tricking stupid, greedy, rich men into giving away their secrets and exploiting it for a profit? It wasn't the cash that got Blake all hot and bothered – it was the power, the fact that she was smarter than these men and better at her job than they were at theirs.
“Money means nothing to me,” she said, raking her nails across his scalp. “You know that.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Really?” he mused. “Nothing? We made almost ten-grand tonight.”
“Not almost,” she said. “We made $10,527 tonight.” At that, Jack looked genuinely charmed. Blake just shrugged, unimpressed. “I've always been good with numbers.”
Sick of talking about money, Blake crashed her lips into Jack's again, pulling his body closer by the collar of his shirt. His fingers held her jaw, his other hand dragging her hips closer to the edge of the dresser. When his hand slid up the back of her dress to unhook her bra, he was pleasantly surprised to find that she'd gone without one.
“You want to know something?” he asked, both hands falling to grab her hips. Blake's gaze hardened. She could think of a few things she really wanted in that moment but to know something wasn't one of them. Still, she didn’t interrupt him. “We could make twice that much in half the time. We just need to change our objectives.”
Blake looked into his light eyes, curious but unfazed.
“Meaning?”
“Drugs,” he said pleasantly, his face illuminated by his ambition.
But Blake just rolled her eyes.
“Not interested,” she said.
Jack laughed under his breath, a low, rumbling sound that Blake found as sexy as she did annoying.
“Not interested?” he parroted, his fingers tracing the hemline of her dress. “That can't be right.”
Blake went to roll her eyes again, having reached her nightly limit of Jack's arrogance, but he chose that moment to slide both hands up her thighs and under her dress. Her breath hitched when he ran his middle finger up the front of her panties, and she hated the way her body would go along with whatever he said when her brain was so ready to battle him.
“I mean it,” she said, swallowing hard to steady to her voice. “I have absolutely no interest in getting involved with drugs. I’m honestly surprised that you do.”
“I go where the money is, baby girl,” he said lowly and a small, blue flame sparked somewhere in her back and eventually landed in the pit of her stomach. “I’m not suggesting we do drugs. I’m just saying that we throw our hats in the ring. There are people significantly less intelligent than the two of us who are making a killing selling narcotics to stupid, white business men who want to have a little fun when they leave the office.” He leaned in closer, his lips barely touching her ear. “I know how much you hate stupid, white business men, Blakey.”
“Jack, you’re not seriously considering–”
She gasped again. Jack pulled her panties down her legs in one fluid movement and tossed them towards the bed. The fingers of his left hand dug greedily into her hip, threating to leave five familiar, circular bruises embedded in her skin. The fingers of his right stayed beneath her dress, already teasing mercilessly to help emphasize his point.
“I am considering a very smart, very aggressive business model, princess,” he growled. “There are certain things that guarantee success, things that guarantee power. And I know very intimately just how much my baby girl likes power.” He smirked, no bothering to hide the intention of his words. Blake knew it – she was soaked, and it wasn’t all because of his carefully-considered ministrations. The truth was, she did like the power. She liked it a lot. “Frankly, it wouldn’t be very different from what we do know. It’s all about deceit, right? Being smarter than our targets? That’s what we’re all about, Blakey. Think about it. What changes, honestly?”
Two fingers traced up and down her slit as he spoke, light, shallow strokes that ignited something fierce at the base of her spine. He was good with his fingers – patient, precise, purposeful – and that had always been Blake’s weakness. He teased her entrance with the pad of his fingers, enough to make her hungry and needy but not enough to provide any semblance of relief. His touch was gentle and calculated, making damn sure to touch everywhere but where Blake actually needed him.
He was good.
But Blake was better, and she was damn stubborn.
“Not interested,” she said, exhaling a shaky breath that she’d been holding like a knot in her chest. “I’m okay with partaking in a lot of shady bullshit, Jack, but this? This is not one of them. No drugs. No, thank you.”
Jack smiled.
“I’m just trying to take care of you, princess.”
He punctuated that sentence by sliding one long finger inside of her, and Blake couldn’t stop the broken cry that left her lips. He pumped her with an infuriating slowness, waiting until her hips were rising impatiently off of the dresser to add a second finger, and Blake bit her tongue to keep from making another embarrassing sound. He was trying to prove a point and she wasn’t having it. Blake considered herself to be a rational person and she’d compromise on a lot of things, especially for Jack.
But not this.
“I’m not interested,” she gritted out, her arms coming to hang loosely around his neck. Her breaths were jagged, unpredictable. Jack grinned at the effect he had on her, proud of himself. Blake was an enigma, a challenge, a tough nut to crack. But he could always get to her. “I can promise you, Jack, I’ll never be interested in this.”
“Oh yeah?” he whispered, his tone daring. With his thumb, he circled her clit – once, twice, three times – then stopped. Blake cried out again, an honest-to-goodness moan that made her cheeks burn red and her legs wrap tighter around his waist. “What if I say you don’t get to finish until you agree with me?” He did it again – once, twice, three times – and Blake threw her head back, first to whimper and then to laugh.
Vanilla, missionary sex? That had never been her thing. Even as a teenager, alone in her room, she was never one for straightforward touches and instant gratification. She’d mastered edging by eleventh grade and if Jack thought he could get her to fold by withholding an orgasm? He was out of his arrogant, overly-ambitious, overpriced-coffee-drinking mind.
“Good try, handsome,” she gasped, her fingers pulling at a handful of his blonde hair. “You could leave me like this for the next twenty-four hours and I’m still not going to change my mind.” With her other hand, she squeezed his jaw and pulled him in for a long kiss. When she’d had her fill, she pushed him away, looked him dead in the eyes and said, “No drugs. Not now, not ever.”
Jack didn’t react for a good twenty seconds. He tried very hard, and ultimately failed at, hiding his smile and eventually said, “This conversation isn’t over, Blakey.”
“Yes, Jack,” she said. “It is.” He bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed but painfully turned on. Nobody challenged him quite like Blake Downey. Nobody could drive him this crazy. “Now,” she said sharply, her hips rising slightly to meet his touch, “you going to finish what you started? Because if you’re not, let me go so that I can.”
He licked his lips, trying to think of something biting to say back, but eventually settled on kissing her forehead.
“Get on the bed,” he told her, lifting her off the dresser.
She gave him a mock salute before turning to head towards the bed, her hips swinging victoriously as she ignored the steady, demanding ache between her legs.
“Whatever you say, asshole.”
Blake woke up far too early the next morning.
She was freezing.
The apartment was always cold since Jack seemed to enjoy living his life like meat hanging in a freezer, but Blake was still naked and the chill that shot up her spine at 8 AM was enough to pull her from dreamland.
She crawled out of bed, dragging the sheets with her, and searched until she found clean underwear and one of Jack’s NYU sweatshirts. Leaving the sheets in the hallway, she wandered to the kitchen where Jack was not only awake but dressed and making breakfast.
“I had a feeling you’d be up early,” he said from the stove, not bothering to turn around. His hair was messy but his outfit was sharp – a green sweater and tight, grey jeans. He always looked good. Even in the morning. Even hungover. Even asleep. Blake had never met someone who could look that good all the time. She found it annoying but she she also never wanted it to stop.
“You’re cooking?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “French toast. For you.”
“For me?”
He nodded. A minute later, he was turning around, offering a plate of bread, fruit and syrup to Blake who had taken her seat at the table.
“You want orange juice?”
Blake didn’t answer his question.
“Since when do you make me breakfast?” she asked.
Jack shrugged, already getting the juice from the fridge. He reached for her favorite Texans glass and started pouring.
“Think of it as a peace offering,” he said. He glanced up, gave her a small but genuine smile, and slid the glass across the table. “Or an apology. For last night.”
Blake snorted.
“I came four times last night,” she reminded him, lifting her fork and poking at a strawberry. “That wasn’t a peace offering?”
Jack’s eyes, and his ego, twinkled with pride.
“Baby, that’s just a typical Monday night at Jack Swanson’s,” he teased. He ran a hand through his hair and then said, in a much more serious tone of voice, “I didn’t want you to feel like I was pressuring you into anything, that I was trying to force you to go along with my ideas. That wasn’t my angle. I did want you to consider it but everything after that was just–”
“–fun?” Blake finished, and Jack laughed.
“Fun,” he confirmed. “So, to make sure you knew that I was truly apologetic…” He gestured at the food in front of her. “Breakfast.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But, in the future, orgasms will always say I’m sorry better than breakfast.”
Jack smirked.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Speaking of which,” she said, wiping syrup from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, “I am fucking exhausted. I’m eating this and then going back to bed. Do we have a job today?”
“Not until later tonight,” he said, leaning against the counter. “You rest. I’ve got some things to do today and then we’ll get ready together after dinner.”
Blake looked up at him curiously.
“You working without me?” she asked, but Jack shook his head.
“It’s not business,” he said. “I’ve got errands to run and then I’m going to visit my brother.”
Blake took a bite of her breakfast and her stomach growled in appreciation. With all of the commotion the night before, she’d forgotten to eat dinner. She figured it was a good thing she could sustain herself on vodka shots and adrenaline.
“When do I get to meet your brother?” she asked, moving all of her hair onto one shoulder. She looked soft like this, sleepy and messy and wearing his sweatshirt. Jack’s heart squeezed a little at the sudden realization that she was actually his.
“I wasn’t under the impression that you wanted to meet him,” he said. “When can I meet your family?”
Blake laughed out loud, completely humorless.
“Never,” she said and took another bite. “Definitively never.”
Jack grinned, folded his arms over his chest and said, “Fair enough. My brother wanted to see Wicked next weekend. Ever see it?” Blake shook her head. “I’ll get three tickets then. Richie will like you.”
“Why would he like me?” she asked, chewing.
Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re honest. Because you’re tough. Because you’re brilliant. Because you’re funny. Because you’re…
Jack shrugged.
“Just a hunch,” he said, and then he checked his watch. “I’ve got to get going. You going to be alright here by yourself?”
“I’m going to be asleep,” she said. “This is good French toast, by the way.”
Jack seemed pleased by this. He pushed himself off the counter, walked towards Blake and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“If you’re going to snoop,” he began but she cut him off.
“I’m not going to snoop,” she protested indignantly.
“You are,” he said. “And the only thing worth snooping for is the safe in my closet. If you can guess the code, you’ve earned the right to snoop. Enjoy all my secrets.” He kissed her again. “Have a good nap, Blakey. I’ll be back.”
“Bye,” she said softly, watching over her shoulder as he grabbed his wallet off the table by the door and headed out into the streets of New York. Her heart swelled a little. She hated to admit this but… she missed him. He’d just left and she missed him. Shaking her head, Blake took another bite and mumbled, “Asshole.”
She was in the armchair nearest to the kitchen, sitting sideways so that her long legs were draped over the armrest and crossed at her ankles. Nobody had spoken for a while – Blake caught up in her work and Sabrina caught up in that red Nintendo thing that she’d dropped two-hundred bucks on – and the sudden question made Blake look away from her computer.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“I am,” said Violet, appearing out of nowhere from the darkened hallway that led to Blake’s bedroom. Her dark hair was wet and she was naked from the waist up, her shirt in her hands instead of on her body. “Are we ordering food?”
“Quick question,” said Sabrina, looking up from her game. “Why are you always naked?”
Violet shrugged and pulled on her t-shirt, a Boston Bruins shirt she’d stolen from Sabrina.
“Are you mad because my tits are better than yours?” she asked, smirking as she headed towards the kitchen. “Because that’s a truly valid complaint.”
“So much talking,” said Valerie. She was sitting at the kitchen counter, trying to hide her smile as she texted her boyfriend. “But I still don’t know. Are we ordering food?”
“There are menus in the drawer,” said Blake, gesturing to the kitchen while turning back to her computer. “The Chinese place is really good.”
“You don’t keep food in the house?” Violet asked, staring into Blake’s nearly empty fridge. There was nothing on the shelves, only bottles inside the door – beer, ketchup, Russian vodka and grape jelly.
“I don’t cook.” Blake said it like she was staring a fact, like she was telling Violet that the sky was blue or that Bush was the president.
“Did Jack really cook all your meals for you?” Violet asked. She twisted the cap off of a beer and tossed it in the sink, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a long sip. “That’s childish, B. You don’t know how to cook or you just don’t like to?”
“I prefer takeout to my own cooking,” she said absentmindedly. She’d hit a wall with her research and it was frustrating her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her sinuses. She sucked at research. Christ, she was so happy that she hired the kid. Right now, Bailey was in the dining room, headphones in her ears, typing away with a level of speed that made Blake concerned for the kid’s knuckles. But still, this little girl was a special kind of smart and Blake had a feeling that recruiting Bailey was going to be a game-changer. The rumble in Blake’s stomach tore her thoughts away from Bailey and turned them back to the conversation at hand. She shut her laptop, rose to her feet and said, “Jack was a good cook.”
Valerie’s head was in the menu, looking for dinner specials, but still, she snorted.
“Of all the things you’ve told me about Jack,” she began, “I don’t seem to remember you raving about his cooking. His cock on the other hand…”
Violet laughed, loud and explosive, and slapped Valerie on the back.
“Good one, Val,” she said, leaning over her sister’s shoulder to scan the menu and look for steamed dumplings.
Blake stiffened, not embarrassed (Blake wasn’t the type of woman who felt shame about anything) but irritated that her friends insisted on bringing him up. It had been weeks since the breakup. She was more than happy to bury it and move forward. But the girls? They were stubborn and sarcastic and scandalous. And since none of them were having relationship drama, they’d locked onto Blake and Jack’s explosive ending like a bunch of heat-seeking missiles.
“Hey, you two only heard stories about their sex life,” Sabrina said, pausing her game. “I had to actually listen to it.” She glanced at Blake and raised her eyebrows. “You’re one loud bitch, you know that?”
At that, Blake actually laughed.
“I do know that,” she said. “I’m alright with it.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes, scoffing a little as she returned to her game.
“That’s easy for you to say,” she said. “It’s a little hard to get your beauty sleep when your friend is constantly screaming her praise to a deity she doesn’t even believe in. We get it. You like his dick. Ever hear of keeping things to yourself?”
Blake blinked.
“I hope you crash your Mario Kart,” she said dully.
“Here,” said Valerie as she walked to the armchair. She shoved a pen and the menu at Sabrina, covering her screen in the process, and Sabrina swore at her, swatting the menu away. “Circle what you want and I’ll order since you hate talking on the phone so much.”
“So what’s the deal, Blakey?” Violet asked, coming around the back of the couch so that she could play with Blake’s ponytail. “I haven’t heard the story yet. Why did you break up with Jack?”
Blake groaned.
“I’m sick of talking about this,” she said.
“Vi, let it go,” Valerie said. “Don’t torture the woman.”
“I just want to know,” she said, moving to sit beside Blake on the couch. She crossed her legs and took another sip of her beer, glaring at Blake with dark, curious eyes. “He was the golden boy! Big bank account, big penis, he shared in your love of illegal activities! What was it? He wanted kids and you didn’t? He slept with you sister? Did you root for opposing football teams? What was it, mama? What went wrong?”
Blake sighed heavily. By now, Sabrina had closed her game and both she and Valerie were staring with looks that mirrored Violet’s.
“I’m a little curious myself,” Sabrina admitted with a shrug. “Did you guys just fall out of love or what?”
Blake cleared her throat, uneasy. This wasn’t shame but it sure felt close.
“It’s not like that,” she said quietly, dryly. “It wasn’t personal. It was… professional.”
Violet and Valerie exchanged a look.
“The pitfalls of fucking your business partner, I guess,” said Sabrina, thoughtful. “You two used to clash on certain decisions. Did it just get to be too much?”
“Did you get sick of working with your boyfriend?” Valerie asked. “Did you want those parts of your life to be separate?”
“Was there someone else?” Violet inquired.
Blake shook her head, looking almost sad as she said, “No, okay? God. Look, Jack always wanted to graduate and get into drugs and I didn’t. I never did and I never will. That’s it. He wanted to go one way and I wanted to go another. We grew a lot, alright? We were together almost four years. Shit changes. People change. Shit gets messy and, I don’t know, I just couldn’t follow him down that path. I was against it from the start. But Jack wanted it. He wanted it from the beginning and he always put it off for me but he was sick of waiting. And neither of us could pretend anymore.” She took a deep breath and then reached across the couch and took Violet’s beer. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? It’s still a little fucking raw.”
She took a long sip. Valerie and Sabrina looked at each other, both feeling a sting of pain on Blake’s behalf. But Violet just uncrossed her legs and moved closer to Blake.
“Can I ask you one more question?” she implored and Blake’s resounding blank stare was as much of a yes as she was ever going to guess. Blake braced herself for something cutting and personal but when Violet opened her mouth next, all she said was, “Are you going to be grumpy now without the frequent and wonderful orgasms?”
The room erupted into a laughter, all the tension and negativity melting away with just one remark from Violet Chernikov.
Vi had always been good for saving the mood.
“I think I’ll be fine,” Blake said, still giggling. She took another swig from Violet’s beer. “I’ve got a whole drawer in my nightstand for that.”
“Good,” said Violet. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your warm, bubbly personality.”
“Here,” said Sabrina, reaching across the room. “Take the menu. What do you want?”
Valerie nodded her chin at the dining room where Bailey was still typing away, completely and utterly unfazed by anything that had gone on.
“Think the kid is hungry?”
“Let’s ask her,” said Sabrina. She reached back to the end table, slapping her hand around until she found a projectile worth throwing – an empty water bottle leftover from the night before. She removed the cap, crushed it into a ball and winged it to the dining room, hitting Bailey square in the chest.
Bailey whined, pulling out her headphones and shooting an offended look to the living room.
“You know, when you ask a girl to do a complete, top-to-bottom search on something, it’s not really helpful to throw shit at her.”
Blake smiled.
“Are you hungry?” she asked and held up the menu. “We’re ordering Chinese.”
“I’ll eat anything,” said Bailey. “I’m not picky. Seriously, give me a piece of toast and I’m good.”
“We’ll order the larger sizes,” Valerie suggested helpfully, “and then we can all share.”
Blake nodded.
“Any special requests?” Blake asked.
Bailey shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I like chicken.”
Valerie smirked and snatched the menu from Blake.
“I’ll take care of dinner,” she said as she headed for the phone on the kitchen counter. “As for you, Miss Bailey, I think you’ve earned a break. Come sit. We’re discussing Blake’s sex life. It’s fun.”
“I still have work to do,” Bailey said, shaking her head. “I promise, I’ll stop when the food gets here. We’ll sit, we’ll chat, we’ll bond, Blake can tell me anything she wants about her vagina. But I really prefer to finish my projects before I take a break.”
She didn’t allow any rebuttal, putting her headphones back in and returning to her screen before anyone could say another word. Blake could tell from the look on Bailey’s face that she had gotten right back into the zone, not at all disturbed, distracted or tempted by the offer to take a break.
“I like this kid,” Sabrina said after a pause. “She’s driven.”
“She’s going to be very helpful when we get to Vegas,” said Blake, smiling on the inside.
“She’s a ringer,” said Violet. “She’s gonna save the day.”
“You think we have enough people now?” Sabrina asked, kicking her legs over the side of the chair so that she could stand up and stretch. “The five of us, you think this is the final roster?”
“You and your sports terminology,” Violet said, shaking her head. “We get it. You’re a jock.”
“I think it’s always good to expand and recruit,” Blake said, her eyes on Bailey. Nineteen-years-old. The same age Blake was when she met Jack. That felt like a lifetime ago. Bailey looked so young, so green, so lost. She reminded Blake a lot of herself when she’d first come to New York, desperate for any sort of guidance and purpose. “We can always grow later on. There’s never a shortage of people. But for right now?” She looked up at Sabrina, then across the couch at Violet and then over her shoulder to where Valerie stood near the fridge. She clicked her tongue. “I don’t think there’s very much the five of us can’t do as long as we stick together.”
Klaus said goodbye to Liucija, his face a cheerful, happy mask. Behind that mask, however, was a man conflicted by a series of emotions. The pair had not really talked that much after that disastrous private training session… and things were just left unsaid. He didn’t want his possible last moments with his friend to be--
No. As his platform started to slowly ascend, Klaus slapped himself a few times once he entered complete darkness. He needed to pull himself together. This was unacceptable. It wasn’t his possible last moments, it was… it was just that he wasn’t going to speak to her for a week or so. That was all. He was going to see her soon. He was… he was. Besides, once he won and became the Victor, he will finally have fulfilled his dream. That was what kept him motivated. That was what he thought of as he slapped himself a few more times until his cheeks were red and rosey.
It felt like an eternity, the pitch-black tunnel that was taking him to his destination. Tapping his foot, Klaus folded his arms over his chest, waiting for the light to swallow him… only the light never came. Suddenly, the platform came to a halt, causing Klaus to become flooded with a feeling of confusion. He blinked a few times, for some reason hoping that if he just blinked, he would suddenly be able to see. It was only when he looked around did he realize that he was, in fact, in the arena.
Despite the darkness that was everywhere, Klaus could see the dim lights of what looked like street lamps stationed at random points along… wherever he was. Looking down, he could faintly see what looked like wood beneath his platform. Not only that, but from all around, he could hear the gentle sloshing of what sounded like water. Internally, Klaus breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he had spent those hours struggling against the waves in the pool.
With his relief about that one small detail, however, came a series of frantic thoughts. The most obvious one being that he could barely see in front of him. He squinted, trying to force his eyes to become used to the lighting, but he just couldn’t do it. It would take longer than the sixty seconds that the Game provided, after all. Cursing to himself, Klaus looked around, hopefully searching for anything that he could use to his advantage… or anything that he could see at all, really.
Looking at the clock, Klaus saw that he was down to only a mere fifteen seconds. Patting his cheeks once more and then cracking his fingers, Klaus got into a sprinting position, ready to storm straight into the bloodbath. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t even see what the golden horn had to offer this year, it didn’t matter one bit. He knew that there were good things in there, despite the fact that he couldn’t see them.
So, as the countdown clock started to tick the last few seconds away, Klaus pushed away all excess thoughts that could serve as a distraction. He didn’t think about the fact that he was finally here, nor anything about Liucija… or even anything about the fact that many people were about to die, right here, right now.
Alright, so I got home and my internet's down, so I figure I'll go on Basilmarket to browse some stuff using my phone's internet. What do I see?
Alright, so you have an idea of what I'm getting to here. Just before my internet comes back up, I'd like to address a few points to these people that's flooding Basilmarket with useless posts.
Ok, so maybe your only fun in MS was training at slime trees in Ellinia while listening to its BGM, and you can't live without it. Understandable. We all had fun times in MS we would want back. Hell, I could want my old guild back before I got banned, we had 10-12/100 people online every day and we had so much fun. Blah blah blah. You get the point. Me crying a river won't bring back my old guild. But I could keep recruiting new members in hoping for Amethest to be what it once was.
Staying on topic, the same thing can be done with the nostalgic complainers. What are you doing right now to get by? Are you crying on a forum, trying to get responses like "z0mg I understand u bby"? Are you making everyone go into a bad mood by telling them to quit? Are you going to be like some grandparents, always dreaming of the "golden days" of the 1940s and 50s?
I want you guys to think for a moment. When I started this game in 2009, my brief 1.5 years before Big Bang only brought memories of me dying and could never get the exp I lost, beggars in FM (there are still some now), and kids using l33tspeak more than ever. How often do you see the word "n00b" a day compared to now? What about people using 3 in their speaking to replace E? Now, I never see them. It may be true that there are still very young players in 2013, but they've all stopped with the retarded 1337 shit.
Another argument I always see from people are "people didn't care about damage back then". One, that's a pack of lies, and two, you guys definitely have ulterior motives. From the increasing amount of funded players nowadays, the best Hall of Honor and Twilight Perion parties accept only the best of the best. So here's a tip for you guys: fit in with the flow, or you'll be left behind. Same thing with real-life situations. Don't blame others for being funded, think about what you can do to make them accept you. Because after all, that's what you want, right?
My next point revolves a group of people. Every week, I see posts like the following:
"Bring back the old ms." If I wasn't mistaken, the last time (before Renegades) we had the old-ms update, I cc-surfed through HHG1, and found no one. Why is that? The majority of players now, even though some may "complain" it's not here, would not really give much of a damn to spend all their time at HHG1. And that's why we haven't had another old-ms update since. People cared about Renegades, not another 1-month delay.
Speaking of Renegades update, here is a common trend I see:
Aran release: Drks are ruined
Evan release: Mages are ruined
DB release: Thieves are ruined
Big Bang: MS is ruined
LHC: MS is ruined
Chaos: MS is ruined
Ascension: MS is ruined
Legend: Explorers are dead
Renegades: Bishops/heroes/explorers are dead
Tempest: Explorers are dead
Unleashed: Maple/Explorers are dead
How many times have Explorers "died"? And why do you care so much? Why make yourself suffer, playing your BM instead of moving onto stronger classes? Does it seem like MS is the one needing change, or is it the players themselves? I'll let comments be open on this one, so tell me, what do you think? Will you move on, or will you be forever stuck in the past?
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