There’s just so much to say about Warhammer Online: Age of Reckoning that people don’t even talk about. I’m don’t mean innovations like Public Quests or the Tome of Knowledge or Open Groups or stuff like that, but stuff that really makes you sit down and go, “damn, why hasn’t any other game ever done this?” It’s that “I coulda had a V-8” forehead slap moment.
I’d have liked to have been in that meeting where some nebbiish dev looked up from his books and said, in a quavering voice that would change the direction of the game forever, “why don’t we have DWARFS in our game?”.
The sound of helicopters… the tragedy of bunnies… Every person’s mind was immediately gripped by the tale of the dwarf Alderich, who forged a magic ring deep within a volcano’s maw, a single ring that would rule the entire world.
“Nobody has EVER done THAT,” agreed everyone else. “Nobody’s gonna figure out that we stole the idea from an OPERA!” And thus, the race of dwarfs was born, and among them, that stalwart example of dwarf obstinacy, the Ironbreaker.
Simulated Warhammer screenshot.
Standing four foot high on tippy-toes and waving their stubby little arms above their heads, you’d be forgiven for thinking the best way to deal with an Ironbreaker is by treating them like your annoying kid brother, who wants the toy YOU have, that you keep tossing back and forth with your sister on the other side of the room.
“Mine! MINE! I WANT MINE!!!” screams the Ironbreaker, his face going all red and cute, but he just can’t get the toy, can he? Can he? Here it is! Whoops! Over to Sis! Awwww.
Ironbreakers are the whiny little brothers of Warhammer, forever running around, hoping people will hit them so they can run and tell Mother. “MOTHER!!!!” cries little I.B., “He HIT me! And then SHE hit me! And then all these OTHER people hit me! MAKE THEM STOP!!!” and Mother comes out, looking like she wants to hit the little urchin, too.
Wait. YOU’RE an Ironbreaker? Sorry, I didn’t see you right away, crouching there behind the rock. Oh? Well, standing behind. Oh? OKAY. Standing on TOP of the rock, waving your hands. Well, so you’re an Ironbreaker, are ya?
Well, your job is to stand places. Yup. That’s it. Stand over here, stand over there, and be all whiny so people will hit you. You want to be hit. You CRAVE being hit. You want people to give you a real BEATING. To walk over to where you are, standing still, and then HIT you.
Yeah. You like being hit. Every bruise is a badge for you. You live for the moment when Mother walks up and you can say, “SEE what they did!? And I didn’t cry, not once!”
You’re one whiny, sick, Oedipal bastard.
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