Apeman42

I kinda loved Working Designs' sometimes hammy script for the PSX Lunar games.

"Ghaleon, no..."

"Oh no, ha ha ha... Ghaleon YES!"

The man has definitely eaten roadkill. It's probably how he got the brain worm.

I'm playing Morrowind again for the first time in years and years, and journaling it over on the Morrowind community, if anyone's interested in following it.

I got a cousin, lost a finger to a jackfruit but he still managed to take the sumbitch down. Dude wears its skin as a helmet now.

UPDATE:

I'm going to keep journaling this, at least for a while, over on the Morrowind community. Part 1 is up now, pretty much the same as the above post. Part 2 coming in a few minutes.

It Begins!

Per popular opinion and the fact that I don't usually play them so it'll be fresh, we're going with an Argonian.

When our journey begins, our hero Polishes-His-Spear is shaken awake by a fetching and shirtless dark elf. Most Dunmer spit on and even enslave Pol's people, a fact which has his tail curling in anxiety, but Jiub has been a surprisingly decent fellow during this tumultuous voyage. Pol is sure that one day those abs will do great things, maybe even change the world.

The guard arrives to snap Pol out of thoughts about Jiub's abs, escorting hm off the ship and onto the dock. Here Pol explains to the hapless Imperial that no, he is in fact an Argonian and not a half-dragon, as in further fact, no one in Tamriel is known to have successfully fucked a dragon since the First Era.

Inside the census office, Polishes-His-Spear gives his information to an old man who presumably works here. After Hist school, Pol wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life. Swayed by an Imperial recruiter's speeches that one could "join the legion and see the world", Pol signed on for a tour. To be fair, he did get some lovely views of the Abecean Sea before the ship dumped him in the port in remote High Rock where he'd been stationed. For three years, Pol drilled in Imperial maneuvers by day for action he would never see, and threw darts and drank amongst the local farmers and hedge wizards by night. Amongst the innately-wizardly Bretons, Pol discovered he himself had a fair proclivity for magic, but he could never get the hang of destruction. Pol prefers touching himself. With his spells.

*EDIT - I realized I didn't account for birthsign here. Pol is a Lady's man. Mechanically, Endurance is a great stat for us and Personality may help offset some racism against us.

After an incident on the ship ride home from his tour involving pirate kidnapping, a fancy captain's hat, and a case of mistaken identity with the Imperial Navy, Pol spent the next year seeing more of the world in the form of an Imperial prison. Pulled from his cell and shoved on a ship, Pol has now just as suddenly been shoved from in here from the ship and is now out of breath from recounting this hastily-written backstory to the clerk.

The clerk hands him release papers, stating that a simple "Morndas" would have sufficed. Pol is directed through to the next office, but before he goes, a sudden impulse grips Pol. Though he has never been much of a swindler or a sneak-thief himself, he recalls a trick from a past life. Taking this vision from the Hist as a sign, and reasoning that desperate times call for desperate measures, Pol sweeps a platter and some valuable crockery to the floor and is chastened by the guard, then pockets it as the guard turns and walks away.

After liberating some more valuable crockery and silver in the next room, Pol sets upon and eats every scrap of food he finds, ravenous from the journey. Though he's never been much for cooking before, Pol notices that the more he eats, the more he seems to feel in tune with the cuisine of Vvardenfell. Perhaps if he continues to sample the local fare, he might produce some fantastic soups and brews. Pol files this thought away for later, but vows to quietly continue exploring the path of the gourmand in the meantime.

Pol hears something rustling as the wind blows through a barrel in the courtyard and discovers a basic healing ring. Pocketing it, he heads through and has his papers stamped. Here he learns that his release comes with an obligation. Drafted back into Imperial service, he is to deliver a package to one Caius Cosades in Balmora, to the north. We are advised to take something called a silt strider as transport, and to ask for Cosades at the South Wall Cornerclub. Skeptical of this unconventional release, Pol is nonetheless happy to be out of a cell and willing to do quite a bit to stay that way.

With that, Pol steps out into Seyda Neen and breaths deep of Vvardenfell air and freedom!

Gah, who the fuck are you?

I don't want to spam the community, but would anyone be interested in me continuing this? Morrowind is the kind of game that it might be both fun and helpful to journal a playthrough of.

Anything particular to be aware of in regards to Argonian equipment restrictions? I know my beloved Boots of Blinding Speed will be sadly out of reach, so maybe I'll want Resto and/or enchanting to make it up with my own Fortify Speed?

Anyone know if Unarmored would be applying for feet and head (unless I find an open helm)?

No, I expect him to die!

At last they didn't get the Oscar-winning script he wrote on the back of the Magna Carta.

It's been longer since that teaser than the time between Skyrim's original release and the teaser.

Wait, I'm not mining crypto trash for strangers whenever I see that annoying fox girl, am I?