Shamus Plays

Shamus Plays: LOTRO, Part 10

Shamus Young | 24 Mar 2010 09:00
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LOTRO is actually a big improvement over all the MMO games where crafting will result in a large net loss. Once you sink a few hours into it you can come very close to breaking even, and if you take the time to become a master farmer you can actually turn a profit. Of course, in the time it would take you to reach that point, you could simply level up your character and make money even faster by simply fighting monsters and doing quests.

Games usually make crafting systems a money sink because the designers don't want players to be able to trivialize the economy. More importantly, if crafting easily resulted in a net gain then it would strongly encourage people to use automated scripts, and it would basically be rolling out the red carpet for the gold farmers.

Still, remember not to include crafting in your get-rich quick schemes.

The end of a long day. I stop to enjoy the fruits of my labor and reflect on what cheerful, peaceful, and Happy souls Hobbits are, and how I'd punch each and every one of them in the face for some fancy Elf clothes.

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Next morning. I need to find another job. Let's try the tavern. That's always a good place for adventurers in need of work.

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Inside, I slump down at the bar and bartender Carlo Blagrove slides a mug in front of me. I wave him off. I'm suffering from a dreadful thirst, but I can't afford luxuries like food and drink while I'm saving up for clothes.

"On the house!", he assures me with a cheerful nod.

Gratefully I tip the mug, take a drink, and then spray it back into his face with much terrified hacking and coughing.

"Not so good, then?", he asks dejectedly.

"Goblin piss.", I assure him once I've caught my breath.

And then in a complete role-reversal, the bartender begins to tell the weary customer all about his problems. "See, I've been entering my ale in the All-Farthing Brewing Moot every year like clockwork for the last fifty years."

The fumes from the complementary ale are making my eyes water. I slide the mug away from my face. "I take it you... haven't won?"

"No," he admits. "Now, my granddad used to win every year when he ran this place. And the thought comes to me now that maybe he had a recipe written down someplace."

"So, you served bilge water for fifty years before it even occurred to you to look for your grandfather's secret recipe?"

"If it's anywhere, it will be in the records room in the Great Smials over in Tuckborough."

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