The GoodThe Good


Ladies and gentlemen, grab your tissues! First, we're taking a visit to the soppy storyline that took place in Star Wars: The Old Republic. The character this all centred around was my Imperial Agent, a Chiss by the name of Rilledrae'venskir'yk Val'saice, or "Draven" by non-Chiss. To give you the short version of the backstory to this storyline, Rilledrae had come to the Empire as an ambassador of the Chiss, 'getting his fingers in many Imperial pies'. Unfortunately, during this time, he met and eventually ended up falling for a certain Sith Lord, Darth Eradis. Rilledrae was rather morally grey, whilst Eradis was very much the devil incarnate. They met aboard The Black Talon (anyone whom has played SWTOR will know this flashpoint). Sure, Eradis cut down the captain, but... Who doesn't love a maverick?

Now, during the course of this whirlwind romance, Rilledrae had since joined Imperial Intelligence and was tasked with co-ordinating what was bound to be a battle to be remembered for centuries on the fields of Belsavis. The Empire had tricked an esteemed Republic battalion in to an Imperial ambush (both sides played by guilds), attempting to strike a crushing blow to the Republic's morale.

Our lovers meet in the command center, Draven presiding over the Imperial briefing. All prim and proper, he has no chance to speak to Eradis as he departs for the ambush. The ambush ensues, the Republic being taken completely off-guard. The attack a success by all accounts, Imperial command sees it fit to start clearing the battlefield of Republic dogs, as per routine. Upon seeing the Chiss across the field, Eradis' body ceases crackling with the static he had been frying the enemy with and begins moving towards him.

Except one Republic soldier isn't dead. In a last ditch effort, mustering all his remaining energy, the trooper pulls his finger down upon the trigger. The piercing sound of a blaster firing resonates as a single bolt surges through the air, almost in slow motion. Rilledrae's eyes widen as the Sith stops in his tracks, falling to his knees. The Chiss now rushes to the dying Sith's side, despatching a single bolt from his blaster in to the soldier's cranium. He leans in closer, hoping to hear the words of his dying lover, his eyes brimming with tears. Such a display of emotion... How awfully un-Imperial.

What was said will be lost to the ages, but all that we know is that Rilledrae went on to co-ordinate many Republic massacres and became a master space combat strategist, sending many Republic vessels to their graves in the void of space.

"Vengeance shall guide me, my love."

The BadThe Bad


Next stop takes us to World of Warcraft and to my beloved Orc Warlock, Gorthek. Serving under one of the Horde's war machines, the Moklohn Command, the time frame is that of the Horde's Rebellion. A time when, no matter what your race, all members of the Horde would band together with one common goal: De-throning Garrosh Hellscream. Oddly enough, Gorthek was perhaps the most Kor'kron of the rebels. Xenophobic, a grumpy arse and a self-proclaimed genius in all things pyromantic and alchemical. But, having returned from studying the Scourge in Northrend, he felt he had a debt of duty to pay the Command.

Now, the mission that plays backstory to this event is that a few Huojin Pandaren had been abducted by the Kor'kron and held in the stronghold of hired privateers and pirates. I shall not bore you with the entire event as the point I found most memorable came early on.

As something of a welcome party, the privateers rolled out a giant cannon named "Diplomacy" from the top of the hill on which their fort was stationed. Now, whilst the rest of the Command fired upon Diplomacy with volleys of arrows and shamanic magic, the despicable Warlock chanted in the background. It was not clear what he was planning until it was too late. Gorthek had called forth a giant orb of Fel flames behind him and had slung it at the seemingly indestructable cannon. Landing a direct, igniting blow on the cannons' gunpowder supply, the black lifeblood of the cannon was it's own downfall, detonating and destroying the wooden supports of the cannon. The privateers were effectively left with an over-sized paperweight.

At this point, the Warlorck turned around and said in a calm, cocky voice: "I guess diplomacy... Failed.". Shortly followed by a series of "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!"s in guild chat.