Farewell, Afflicted. I haven’t played all of Winds of Change yet, but I’ve played enough to have wiped you out. I don’t often get the chance to say this to monstrously mutated homicidal disease-ridden people, but I’ll miss you.
As someone whose first campaign was Factions, I cut my teeth fighting you. Arriving in Kaineng City, after being coddled back on Shing Jea, was a shock in many ways. First, the walled city itself was so stunning, seeing the way it spans in all directions—up, under, out. I’d look in amazement at the canyons of buildings and wonder how many people live in them. And when I’d look at the blurry map, as yet unexplored by my character, I’d find it hard to believe this city really extended as far as it seemed to.
For a city like this, you were the perfect monster. As an outsider looking in, trying to grasp the sheer density of people who must live there, the city invoked a fear of insignificance in me. The improbable construction accumulating and accumulating, as if built out of desperation, unable to stop or keep up, invoked hopelessness and a fear of inevitability. Good thing the city was so beautiful, because I knew I would never want to leave.
And you were the realization of those fears. Here were people turning into mindless murderers, retaining next to nothing of their former lives and joining an ever-growing army of monsters. That was the second shock: you put up a hell of a fight. I was a new player, a rookie ritualist clutching Vorizun’s urn to her chest, still struggling to get a grasp on my own skills, let alone able to muster an effective party of henchmen. It soon occurred to me how you were fighting as a group, each of you playing a different role appropriate to your profession. I started to learn who each of you were.
Warrior, your enthusiasm was certainly hard to ignore. Which is odd considering how much you had me face-down in the filthy street. You always seemed to be first and last to the fight.
Ritualist, I saw a lot of myself in you. I mean, except for the fact that you’re a giant triangle or something. But you showed me how strong a ritualist can be by hanging back and keeping your teammates standing.
Elementalist, you’re a bully. I got nothing more to say to you.
Assassin. The cute one. I remember this one time a woman was looking for a lost teddy bear. I think this was near Nahpui Quarter. Anyway, this woman asked for the bear, but who would want a ratty bear when they could have something as cute as you? So I brought you to her, my arms wrapped around you, your spindly knife legs flailing and slashing. She was so ungrateful.
Monk, I could never make up my mind about you. Sometimes I’d decide you’re no threat and ignore you, and that’s when you’d let me have it. I think you just wanted the attention (and a burning ray of light is one way to get someone’s attention).
Mesmer, I never really understood what it is you do. You seemed a little obsessed with people running. Were you a lifeguard before you became infected?
Ranger: Throw dirt, throw dirt, throw dirt. You sure got this life thing figured out, don’t you?
Necromancer, I’m sorry, I know we’ve met but I didn’t really remember you. That is, until we met again.
Much later, after I acquired all the skills for a minion-bomber build, I went back to Vizunah Square to try it out. There were so many of you—so many bodies exploding in lightning and reanimated flesh. I’m sorry to say it, but that was the moment I realized that we had grown apart and you were no longer the threat you had been earlier on.
And then I returned another time, at the behest of this so-called Ministry of Purity. You all had learned a lot since we first met. I remember when I first saw you again, Assassin, and you shadow stepped right to me, as if not even space itself could keep us apart. And you, Necromancer, the new head of the pack! You really came a long way. I realized that I had drifted away and forgotten what we used to have. That you taught me how to play Guild Wars.
But now you’re gone. Cleansed. And I’m left wondering why this is a big deal for me. Up until now, there had been an unspoken, unfulfilled promise: as the hero, the player should be able to set things right and rid the city of the plague. But that never happened, as it turned out to be a side effect of a greater problem, the return of Shiro. In fact, you had become such an integral part of the city’s character that I don’t think I ever gave a second thought to why you were still around.
But it turns out that ArenaNet was willing to let you go. Is this, like many other elements of Guild Wars Beyond, a taste of what Guild Wars 2 will bring? If your rise, Afflicted, were a Dynamic Event—Infection! Monsters! Epidemic! Fixed!—would you maintain the character that made you a part of the setting and so memorable to me? (My guess is yes, absolutely. I don’t think ArenaNet would be happy with Dynamic Events otherwise.)
And so, the city still stands. I still feel like I’m staring into the abyss when I’m in it. And now you’re gone. But there are other monsters to deal with.
It’s difficult to describe my first experience with the afflicted. One side of them dislikes them for their looks, they were quite the opposite of what I taken for granted in the ways I had learned Tyria. Rather than an interesting look, it was just flesh, with a few weird humps attached to it.
Their story though, was what intrigued me. We were fighting humans who were forced to fight us because of a disease.. It was a weird idea that you were attacking something that used to be like your character, while knowing they wouldn’t want to do it if they still had control of their body.
But then, their looks came into play again, and they all had the same ones – aside of a few alliterations per profession. This gave them an aura in which they seemed to live without purpose so why bother about a backstory. They were just there to kill and fight, until you finally got out of that stinking city, into the lush Jade Sea and Echovald Forest. It was here that I did get a little sympathy again, but yet again, their looks just didn’t match with that idea.
Nevertheless, I will miss that Ritualist, he was a nice pal.
Heh… they really were defining characters of Kaineng. They reflected the corruption and degeneration that ran – and to a certain extent – still runs strong in the city and in Canthan society. But, just as these wretched abominations were exterminated, so can the rest of the corruption be purged. /Ministry Zealot Mode Off
They were very unique (they kind of reminded me of rakghouls from KotOR) and truly had some sort of special stuff in them (aside from the nasty substance that oozed from their putrid cysts and pulsating growths) that added to Kaineng’s awesome but sometimes frightening (and disgusting *cough*pipes flushing sewage*cough*) charms. Still, I’m glad they are gone.
And don’t worry, LittleBoat. You’ll have thousands of corrupted, howling, rotting, nearly mindless dragon minions to slaughter in Guild Wars 2!
I was trying to put my finger on what made up the “city horror” they represented. The corruption and moral degradation is one I missed.
Minion Bombing really IS the way to deal with the Afflicted’s Explosion. So WHAT if they damage the minions that are poking at them? It just means more Death Novas. Factions is so much more enjoyable once you have Heroes and EOTN skills.
The Afflicted taught me the power of Heroes. I was awful when I first tried to play through Factions. When Nightfall came out, I turned around and shipped my lead character off to Istan to learn how to be a Sunspear. And along came these characters that were like Henchmen, but much more easily tailored to the situation. I could only bring three, sure; but with some good supportive henchies, we persevered all the way through Kourna, Vabbi, and onward to kill a god (with a bit of human help; I don’t have many friends that play).
So I returned triumphant, first to Tyria where I cleaned some White Mantle clocks (that’s right, I hadn’t finished the Prophecies campaign) and saved the world… again. But there was still old, brown Kaineng City calling to me, with vague promises of seas of jade and forests of amber, run through by an ever-shifting red and blue line. So I travel back to Kaineng Center, load up my team of Superfriends with my newly-acquired elite skills and balanced builds, grab a few good henchies to fill the gaps, swallow hard, and charged into the brownness.
At first it was still quite the challenge. Those fleshy demons ravaged my team and wiped us more than a few times. Some of it was carelessness; over-aggroing on my part or not knowing from what holes they’d spring next. With each newfound outpost, though, I pushed on, tweaking builds, gathering elites and sharpening my own skills as not merely a player, but a commander of men. Then with one final thrust, we Heroes among Henchmen burst forth into the brilliant, sun-lit fields of Pongmei Valley. The gilded rim of the chamber pot of greater Kaineng. So great was the verdant splendor, I was forced to take a knee. Or, perhaps, that was just my character working toward his Drunkard title.
Naturally, we pushed onward, passing by a few of my Afflicted friends along the way, but they were scattered, a shadow of the concentrated evil that so “plagued” me in Kaineng. I hardly looked back at that poo-stained place until a new group in tidy whites finally got up the courage to clean house. By then I’d bulled my way across the North to save some short people from some lava monsters and I was allowed to bring a party full of Heroes along with me. Cocky in my sense of impending victory, I stormed that city one last time, confident that the meat sacks would merely explode at the very sight of me.
Boy, was I wrong. Those meat sacks had learned a thing or two in my time away as well. How to be a better team. How best to kill human players. And how to hide character roles behind misleading professions. If nothing else, those new Afflicted Necros taught me once again how to balance a team and that damage isn’t everything; survival is. Alas, all the Necros in Cantha couldn’t save their species in the end.
RIP, Afflicted. We knew ye all too well.
[...] An Open Letter to the Afflicted. “Farewell, Afflicted. I haven’t played all of Winds of Change yet, but I’ve played enough to have wiped you out. I don’t often get the chance to say this to monstrously mutated homicidal disease-ridden people, but I’ll miss you.” [Raphia: In which LittleBoat wonders briefly if the fate of the Afflicted might be "a taste of what Guild Wars 2 will bring"] [...]
[...] GuildMag: An open letter to the afflicted. Meanwhile, the afflicted get another type of letter entirely from Littleboat. [...]