The Tales of Rusty - What now?

And then I left my fair Isles behind me. In search of new adventures, strange lands and beasts, new friends and fame.

-- ⏳ -- 🥇 -- 🥈 -- 🥉 -- 🕰 --

If yoy think the looks of my hero have been changing througout this story, there's two reasons.

1. It is not the same character. Many  re-incarnations died during the makings of this storyline.
Actually this is the conglomerate story of no less than 21 characters.

2. This achievement exists in game. You can have your hair dyed and cut - and beard to if that's relevant.

Since I began writing this tale in November 2013 (Oh God, is it really 5 years ago?) World of Warcraft has been going downhill for me. I complain in the tab My Rants that WoW has become far too easy, far too one way street-like, far too little demanding on brain and brawn.

The Ironman Challenge has been hit by several of the new patches: Forced specialization, scaling zones, stat squishes that have not been done thoroughly, leaving some NPC's ranged attacks still doing pre-squish damage, effectively one-shotting even my non-Iron main character.

I did not begin IMC because it was easy, nor to race others to max level, or even in the hope of ever reaching max level. I did it because it brought colour back to my surroundings, spring to my steps and and joy to my playtime. After several nerfs the fun has been spoiled. There's nothing to the challenge but an endless grind, often cut short by some oversight by the gamemakers.

But this summer Classic WoW will come out. I'll revive (a copy of) my oldest IMC, Moggi, who did not even know she was an IronManChallenger, as this challenge still lay in the future back in 2008 when she hit level 10 without ever having died.

 There were no rules against buffs, gear or anything, and I invented the rules myself out of irritation with this box on page 30 of the rulebook, that stated that you could not play WoW without dying.
  

13 July 2008 - first IMC to level 10 ever

I avoided dying until my smallest sons (then 5 and 3) both were clamouring for my attention just after I entered combat, and fell prey to a Strider in Darkshore at the tender age of 12. My then 5 years old son still plays this Druid - I later gave her to him in frustration over my death.