Adventures in Futility: The One-Eyed Menace

This week’s mission, should we have chosen to accept it—which we did because apparently, we have the collective survival instincts of lemmings—was to track down Old One-Eye in his lair, kill him, and decorate our flame altar with his skull. Why we want his skull remains unclear, but as Dave pointed out, “More skulls = more power,” and who can argue with that? Certainly not us, the group that once spent three hours debating whether to turn left or right in a dungeon because Craig thought the shadows on the left looked suspicious.

The Prelude to Disaster

Like any Dave plan, it literally went wrong before he had finished talking. “Right, guys, we are after Old One-Eye. Once we mount his head on the wall, we can upgrade our flame altar, making us even more awesome,” he announced.

“Cool, where does Old One-Eye live?” Myles asked.

“You unlocked his location from the notes you found in the stable last time,” Dave replied. “Everyone open your maps and lock in the location.”

After consulting our quest journal, we confirmed our task: track down the fugly Cyclops and end his existence. The journal even helpfully marked his location—on the opposite side of the map from where we’d planned to explore. So off we went into the freezing north, with Craig as usual forgetting to bring any food.

We scrambled up and down mountains, fell off cliffs, and found everything except the location we were looking for. Myles and Dave repeatedly demonstrated their lack of skill at the double grapple-jump, while Zaph and Craig excelled at finding alternate ways to make things worse.

Spiders swarmed over Zaph like he was a human candy while ignoring Dave’s ranger “friendship” abilities. Eventually, after a series of wrong turns and several respawns, Dave gave up and jumped off a cliff into the Shroud.

“OMG, it’s here!” he shouted.

“Where?” we all asked, squinting at our maps.

“There’s a humongous road leading into a giant opening in the cliff! This has to be it!” Dave yelled.

Myles and Craig spiraled down to join Dave on the road. Craig promptly fell into a hole, while Zaph flew overhead, pivoted, and zipped off into the opening, leaving Dave and Myles to fight their way in on foot. Craig rejoined them just in time to "assist" by smashing random objects and aggravating local wildlife. Meanwhile, Zaph discovered updrafts, lava, and yet another fight deep in the cavern.

Chaos in the Cyclops’s Lair

Standing on beams above a river of lava, we spotted a Shroud Mushroom.

“That must be it!” Myles shouted, leaping off the beam to glide toward it. He caught an updraft, smashed into a rock face, and plummeted into the lava to die.

“Again, again! Do it again!” Craig exclaimed gleefully.

Zaph and Dave, as usual, headed off in opposite directions but ended up at the same place. A minor fight ensued, during which Craig definitely did not save us, and we destroyed the mushroom—only to discover another one.

“That’s new,” someone muttered.

“What’s the plan?” Myles asked.

“Smash it,” Craig said, doing his best Hulk impression. The second mushroom was promptly dispatched.

“Where’s Old One-Eye?” Myles asked. “We haven’t seen him yet.”

“Maybe he’s up on that cliff by the third mushroom,” Zaph suggested.

Three Shroud Mushrooms later, Dave’s “plans” were still failing to impress. Grappling up to a ledge, Dave rushed forward and smashed the mushroom. Old One-Eye responded by smashing Myles and Zaph, while Craig looted a chest in the corner. Dave tried to revive Myles but misjudged a jump and fell to his death.

This left Craig to shine. With three of us providing directions, Craig got hopelessly confused, flew off in the wrong direction, killed a bug, and then got flattened by the Cyclops. Respawn it was.

A (Sort of) Plan Emerges

After much finger-pointing, we decided to spread out and attack Old One-Eye from different directions while Myles threw skulls at him to distract him. A flurry of fireballs, arrows, and skull shots later, the Cyclops was down.

Craig claimed he had connectivity issues and that’s why he didn’t tank for us. No one believed him, but who cared? We had the head, slapped it on the wall of Spider House, and upgraded our flame altar.

Dave celebrated by doing chores—collecting eggs, milking goats, and feeding farm animals—while the rest of us tried to decipher his chaotic storage system. Myles and Zaph attempted to put things in the right boxes, while Craig just dumped his gear into the nearest crate.

Onward to the Halls of the Dead

With half the session spent on those shenanigans, we decided to hit the Nomad Hollow Halls. Dave retrieved the key from his secret stash, and off we went. A quick glide from the fast travel tower and a short jog brought us to the doors.

The first room was a breeze. Level 20 skeletons, skeletal dogs, and summoners were no match for our level 26 skills and level 30 weapons. Feeling overconfident, we mined glowing crystals for skull-summoning devices while taunting each other about how easy the dungeon was.

Then came the puzzles. The triple grapple jumps proved impossible for Myles and Dave, who took the lava-hopping ground path instead. Zaph and Craig, who actually know how to follow directions, disappeared into the distance.

Finally, we reached a teleportation puzzle that required jumping through runes to unlock a door. Side areas filled with traps and skeletons yielded skeletal Cyclopses, which unlocked the runes. With the final room cleared, we grabbed our loot and returned to the Collector. His reward? Glowing soup. Because nothing screams victory like bioluminescent broth. Dave, of course, refused to even try the glowing soup (he doesn't like pumpkins). We also found a bunch of crystal clusters that Dave promptly repurposed into a key for the Kindle Wastes Hollow Halls dungeon.

That, however, is a tale for another knight (ie, not Craig).

Until next week, when we’ll inevitably find new and exciting ways to fail spectacularly. Cheers to teamwork, skulls, and the eternal respawn!

Epic grapple fail

Getting over your skis in the Halls of the Dead

Flight of the Zaph - he went too deep, and woke the Balrog.

Shroom for Error: The Night We Fought Lava and Lost

Ah yes, nothing screams “welcome back” quite like a fungal apocalypse and repeated fiery deaths. After a brief hiatus, the gang reassembled for what can only be described as a triumphant return. Well, it would have been triumphant if triumph involved more competence and less respawning.

The Great Mushroom Caper

Our grand mission? Destroy half a dozen Shroud-Mushrooms scattered across the map like someone’s poorly executed fetch quest. You’d think smashing fungi would be easy, but you’d be wrong. These weren’t your garden-variety mushrooms. Oh no. These were flaming, lava-adjacent, rage-inducing mushrooms of doom, and they came with the added bonus of requiring everyone to gather in a tight little circle before taking them down, just to get that sweet, sweet Skill Point reward. It’s like the developers knew exactly how to exploit our inability to stay together for longer than 15 seconds.

The first couple of mushrooms were in low-level areas, which we obliterated with a sense of smug satisfaction usually reserved for villains in bad action movies.

Of course, in hindsight, starting in a noob area was the gaming equivalent of stretching before a marathon: it lulls you into a false sense of competence right before the chaos begins.

Beef Stew, Strawberry Milkshakes, and Myles’ Eternal Questions

Before we dive back into the mushroom madness and tragic map-related escapades, let’s pause to appreciate the fuel that sustained us: beef stew, strawberry milkshakes, and a never-ending interrogation from yours truly about what to do with the game’s loot.

Now, in my defense, the inventory system is needlessly complicated. Who needs three different chests for metal, one for gems, and an entirely separate one for "miscellaneous shinies" - which is of course full? But, apparently, the rest of you have adapted to this madness, as evidenced by the chorus of groans every time I asked, “What box does the meat go in?”

Dave, ever the font of patience (except when Craig is digging), responded with his usual authority: “The food box, Myles. In the Great Hall.”
“Okay, but where do I put silver?” I pressed.
“NOT IN THE FOOD BOX!” came the unanimous reply.

And so the evening progressed:
“Is there a box for obsidian?”
“Does anyone want to wear the funny hat I found?”
“Wait, where do I put this sack of turnips?”

Some might say this was my way of taking a break between mushrooms, but I prefer to think of it as contributing to the group’s inventory management. After all, someone needs to ask these questions—preferably loudly and while others are trying to concentrate.

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Zaph vs. Gravity

The highlight of the evening came courtesy of Zaph’s patented “shrine well high-dive maneuver.” For those uninitiated in Zaph’s aerial escapades, let me explain: instead of taking the boring spiral stairs down to the shrine wells like a normal, gravity-fearing person, Zaph insists on diving directly into the well from dizzying heights. If timed correctly, it’s a breathtaking shortcut that screams, “I am the master of this domain!”

If timed poorly, however, it screams, “SPLAT.” Craig not wanting to be out done - try to follow.

As we gathered around Craig’s prone, slightly pancake-shaped form at the bottom of the well, Dave helpfully remarked, “At least he’s consistent.”

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Lava, Lava Everywhere

As the mushroom levels increased, so did the complications. By the time we hit areas with high-20s and low-30s mobs, it became clear that our ragtag bunch of mid-20s misfits might be punching slightly above their weight class. “It’s fine,” Dave declared, ever the optimist. “We’ll just use strategy.” (He'd never actually say that - might think it, but is generally too busy eye-ing the treasure chest in the distance).

But no amount of strategy can save you from lava. Turns out some of these shrine wells were, shall we say, volcanically active. You’d think we’d learn after the first time someone accidentally took a lava bath and lost 10 minutes of precious Shroud time, but no. Craig promptly made it his mission to “test the lava’s properties,” which mostly involved jumping into it repeatedly while cackling like a maniac.

“Stop doing science!” I shouted as Craig flung himself into yet another molten abyss. “This isn’t a controlled experiment!”

Dave, ever the noble (if increasingly exasperated) leader, tried to rally us back into focus: “We need to take this seriously! Everyone group up for the next mushroom, or none of us get the reward!” 

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Close Proximity Chaos

The “everyone in close proximity” rule proved to be our true undoing. Herding our group into the same small area is about as easy as wrangling feral cats during a thunderstorm. By the time we’d finally gathered near the next mushroom, someone (usually Craig) would wander off or poke a nearby enemy, triggering yet another fight.

And then there was the respawning. Oh, the respawning. Between the shroud monsters and the lava, it became a revolving door of death. Respawn, run back, get annihilated again. At one point, I looked at the clock and realized I’d spent more time staring at the loading screen than actually fighting.