The player sighed, “Yeah, we’re all DPS here,” then he walked away without another word.
The strength of a damage dealer was usually attributed to their damage output—Damage Per Second, or DPS for short. It was likely that the local creatures would be of a much higher level, and since he didn’t have any abilities that were practical for combat, Dakkon didn’t know if his DPS would be any good here. He supposed he’d find out shortly after joining a group.
Tanks and healers traditionally had the easiest time finding parties in other games Dakkon had played. That was because most groups worked best when they had someone who could take a hit and someone else who could keep them alive to continue fighting. There were, of course, other successful group compositions. Some killed enemies so quickly that they didn’t have time to do much damage, but that tactic could fall to pieces in an instant if too many enemies attacked at once, or if a few unlucky strikes got through. People preferred parties with a tank, a healer, and at least one dedicated, heavy-hitting damage dealer. The combination is so commonly sought, that gamers have affectionately dubbed it, ‘The Holy Trinity.’
Dakkon was not a tank and he certainly wasn’t a healer. After hearing from the vendor at the stall that krimmer glands went bad quickly, he wondered whether he should attempt to sell himself as a novelty class which could keep the krimmer parts chilled in hopes that they would fetch a higher price. It was an extremely realistic world, after all. Perhaps something like that might actually be beneficial enough to a group to earn him his keep—but he didn’t exactly see anyone selling, buying, or carting ice around, so perhaps keeping the meat and glands cool wasn’t worth the trouble. He had never been hunting, but could recall seeing photos of proud hunters standing next to large bucks, which apparently didn’t need to be kept cold as they dangled, suspended from cords. He decided to try his hand advertising himself as a DPS class and he’d conduct his own low-profile tests on refrigeration when he had the chance to. He didn’t relish the idea of looking like an idiot, after all.
Dakkon walked up to a group. “Need another DPS?” he asked.
“We’ve got too many already, if you ask me. We’re just waiting on our healer,” said a man clad in chain with a battered shield.
“All right,” said Dakkon, turning back to continue the search. Dakkon asked four groups in total, each conversation as brief as the one before it. Two turned him down because of his low level, 14, and the last also had nothing but DPS classes already—so it turned him away with no other considerations. Dakkon began to feel somewhat dispirited until he was approached by a short, dirty blond haired player named Ramses.
“Looking for a group?” the player asked him in a casual tone.
“I am. I’m DPS, though, if that matters,” Dakkon said.
“Honestly, we’ve been trying to get this group up and running since morning with no luck. There are already four of us with no tank, so other players have been holding out for an ideal group,” said Ramses. “At this point we just want to get something going.”
“That suits me fine,” said Dakkon. “Send me an invite.”
|You have been invited to a group by: Ramses
|Do you accept?
|Yes No
Dakkon accepted and found himself the fifth member of the group. He followed Ramses back to the other members and exchanged pleasantries. Aside from himself, there were Ramses, a rogue, an odd choice for a party leader if one was to go by class alone; Zelle, a young, blonde shaman girl; Benton, a skinny, dark-skinned man—an aeromagus, as he’d recently taken up the art of wind magic; and Hebbeson, an older man with several blade scars peppered over his face and arms who preferred archery over fighting up close and personal. When asked what Dakkon did, he took a page from Hebbeson’s book and gave an indirect answer: “I’m pretty good with a knife.”
The group was restless to get started. On the way to the hunting grounds which Ramses and Hebbeson had decided on, Dakkon learned that they had indeed been waiting for hours, switching out group members as other players got impatient. The group walked towards their destination, pulling along a small cart with a single large spear which had two prongs branching out beneath its point.
While they were still familiarizing themselves with each other, Dakkon figured it would be a great opportunity to learn about some of their class strengths and abilities. Starting where he was most in the dark, he asked, “So Zelle, I’m pretty unfamiliar with shamans. How do they work here?”
The fair skinned Zelle was happy to share, “Shamans are like mages in a sense,” she began. “We can cast all sorts of spells. Unlike mages though, we get our spells through forming pacts with ancestor spirits. You’ve probably seen a few of their shrines already. There are quite a few in the countryside around Tian.”
“I did see a shrine with nuts and squirrel statuettes on it, on the road from Derrum,” said Dakkon.
“Yes! That would be the shrine of Che, a squirrel spirit who is a touch on the possessive side,” said Zelle.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Dakkon.
“Ancestor spirits have very different—often polarized—personalities, and Che was somewhat jealous to have my affections shared with other spirits, so I decided to end my pact with it,” said Zelle.
“So, you can only have so many spirit pacts, and that limits your spells?” Dakkon asked.
“No and yes,” Zelle considered the best way to explain the trade-offs of playing as a shaman. “A shaman could, potentially, create a pact with every ancestor spirit. That seems unlikely though, since many spirits have conflicting personalities. If an ancestor spirit disapproves of the shaman it has formed a pact with, then the pact can grow weaker. If the pact grows too weak, the spirit may abandon the shaman in its time of need.”
“So, shamans are like mages, without guaranteed magic?” asked Dakkon.
“Not exactly,” interjected Benton, the aeromagus. “Mages have to hone and practice their magic. Shamans are granted the power by a spirit. For example, it would likely take years of training before I could form a tornado even though I specialize in wind magic exclusively. If Zelle were to appease an ancestor spirit capable of letting her summon tornados, she could summon a tornado today.”
“Wow. Ancestor spirits are really powerful, then?” asked Dakkon.
“They can be,” said Zelle “But then, like Che, they may only grant the power to do something small such as locate fallen nuts, making those contracts more… expendable.”
“How do you know if a spirit is powerful?”
“Some are known to be weak, and are used to teach new shamans how to go about performing a pact ceremony properly, such as in the case of Che. If a spirit is angered, it may become inconsolable by the shaman who angered it, and a pact may no longer be possible,” said Zelle. “But I have not answered your question. I do not know a way to tell for sure if a spirit is indeed powerful, but my shaman trainer told me that the greatest spirits will not enter into a pact through a simple ceremony. Some must be appeased, while others must be subjugated.”
“Shamans sound…” Dakkon paused to find the words that properly conveyed his sentiments, “very complicated, but very interesting.”
“I feel the same way,” said Zelle with a nod.
“So, then the benefit of going a traditional mage is—” Dakkon was cut off by Benton.
“Yup. It’s consistency in growth,” said Benton. “There are many classes in this game that take longer to develop—such as a military class—but then have a more consistent role. In the case of a soldier, they may be promoted to higher ranks, earn a salary, and command subordinates… Though it would take quite a bit of time to get to that point, and you’d need be in constant service to your superiors.”