Tag Archives: brawler’s guild

The sincerest form of flattery

brawlers2

So, I know that when somebody comes up with a real winner of an idea, it’s only a matter of time before some uncreative motherfuckers go all copycat, but come the fuck ON.

So yeah. Like I was saying last time, interest in the Brawler’s Guild has been booming, bidding on those guild invitations is going through the roof, everything’s good. Then, I get up this morning and look over the latest intelligence reports — which, let me tell you, given the apparent state of most of my spies and minions, is a fucking IRONIC term — and what do I have staring me in the face?

The goddamn Alliance went and started THEIR OWN FUCKING BRAWLER’S GUILD.

I mean, for FUCK’S sake, doesn’t ANYBODY come up with ideas of their own anymore? I swear I’d be half tempted to SUE the assholes if, you know, I wasn’t already engaged in a systematic effort to murder them all. But SURE, fuckers, ADD FUEL TO THE FIRE.

Ugh. Serves me right for not taking more steps to lock this idea down. And for doing most of the planning with Boss Bazzelflange over e-mail. Which apparently, Spazzle tells me, somebody on the other side might have managed to intercept or hack or something. That’s pretty frustrating, on the one hand, in the sense that you’d expect Bazzelfuse to have some better e-mail security what with her being a goblin… but it’s also kind of amusing, on the other hand, in the sense that apparently someone over on the Alliance side had managed to dip into the e-mails of the Warchief of the Horde, and which ones did they decide to peek in on? Not the ones with the sensitive military intel, no sir. IF THOSE E-MAILS EXISTED, that is. WHICH THEY DAMN WELL DO NOT AND NEVER DID.

Dammit, I seriously need to start writing down Spazzle’s notes about the delete button.

Anyway, you know what? I might still sue their asses. Cross-faction, sure, but hey, GOBLINS, motherfuckers. Do you have ANY idea how brutal goblin LAWYERS are? Just imagine a bunch of goblins who make the OTHER goblins go “Damn, dude, you’re seriously RUTHLESS.” That’s 100% completely without ruth. They damn well crafted themselves full sets of ruth resistance gear, and THOSE are the suits they wear into court. GOOD LUCK, bitches. Good luck.

On the other hand, that could involve more paperwork. Probably in triplicate. Ugh. Always a trade-off for everything, right?

So, food for thought. More soon.

 

Get a little action in

brawlers1

So, here’s a little epilogue to the whole Pandaren Noodle Festival deal from a couple days ago, which should help demonstrate that where your Warchief is concerned, the mental elevator’s always going to the top floor. And unlike most elevators, it doesn’t have any careless motherfuckers getting themselves killed running off the edge then going plummet-plummet-scream-eek-splat. Although believe you me, if I COULD push a few people right off that elevator, I would. WITH MY MIND.

Anyhow. While Ji Lunchbox was getting things together for his big ol’ panda nom-nom party, I had a brainstorm for how I could kill two birds with one stone. So, number one, I’d been thinking for a while that I really haven’t been getting as much use as I should out of the Ring of Honor. Sure, a few randoms sometimes use the place for their little bitch-slap peen-measuring skirmishes, but really, ever since I had the newly arrived pandas prove themselves against a handful of assorted monsters (NEVER YOU MIND WHY I JUST SO HAPPENED TO HAVE THEM ON HAND), the place has pretty much been sitting there gathering dust. Number two, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this lately, but teenage daughters are damn expensive, and that expense gets magnified when you’re also trying to finagle an off-the-books black-ops underground HEYYYYYY so that’s the thing, teenage daughters, man, expensive stuff and that’s all I have to say about that.

Luckily, your Warchief is one sharp operator, so I came up with a brainstorm to do something about BOTH these situations at once. Plus — what the hell, let’s call this one number THREE — I was even able to do it in a way that cashed in on all that traffic that the Valley of Honor was getting because of PandaFest. SO CHECK IT OUT, motherfuckers, YOU SIGN UP FOR TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE AND YOU WALK AWAY WITH THREE. THREE GODDAMN DEAD BIRDS. That’s right, I give people a little something extra, ’cause that’s how I roll. Everybody wins. Except maybe the birds. Oh well.

So I know what you’re thinking. No, not “Wow, Garrosh, you sure are awesome, and sexy as all fuck, too” — I mean, sure, you’re thinking it, but I’m talking about the other thing: “So what was your genius idea, Garrosh?” EXCELLENT QUESTION, GLAD YOU ASKED.

Well, I realized that we’ve got this perfectly good gladitorial arena right here in Orgrimmar, only there’s no gladitorial combat keeping it in use. So, I decided it was time to do something about that. You’d be surprised how easy it was — a few conferences with some organizers, a couple hours’ worth of logistics, a not-so-gentle nudge for the contractors who’d already been working on remodeling the arena for way too long already, and lo and behold, the BRAWLER’S GUILD was born! A whole fight-on-demand, invitation-only tournament where the best and the badassest can show off their combat prowess against assorted monsters and, you know, whatever other opponents we can get to volunteer against their will.

Now yes, sure, this setup has some operational costs involved, but they’re a lot less than you might figure — some pocket change and random junk to dole out as prizes, plus maybe a few of those mushan beasties from Pandaria to dangle as prizes for the high-end achievers. But here’s the genius of the whole deal: this guild is set up to make BANK. See, first off, I had them make the Brawler’s Guild an invitation-only tournament. Then, we let a handful of those invitations trickle out to people. So now, word starts to get around about this exclusive tourney, and everybody starts getting curious, and everyone wants in but hardly anyone’s getting invited. So when a few more invitations start becoming available, man oh man, just you watch that gold come pouring in.

So I got all this in motion a few weeks ago. Ji’s whole Noodle Festival thing, though, gave me the perfect occasion to unveil it. We were already going to have crowds of people hanging around the Valley of Honor eating, drinking, and being merry, so what better way to cap the day off than to check out some fucking cage matches, right? We even got to reveal the new name that the Ring of Honor will be sporting in light of the new tournament — the Brawl’gar Arena! Pretty damn badass, right? REBRANDING, BITCHES. (Now I just need to get the ball rolling on that idea I had the other day, because seriously, could “Iron Horde” be a MORE badass-sounding name upgrade for us?)

Now, normally, entry into the Brawl’gar Arena would be exclusive to the guild members, but for the grand opening we let folks into the gallery overlooking the arena floor so they could watch the fun. For a minimal admission fee. So folks flocked on in there fresh off of their noodle festivities, the select few invitees put on a hell of a show, and a good time was had by all. Well, except for the peons who got stuck cleaning up the spilled noodles in the gallery. It turns out that half-drunk people don’t have the best table manners. Go figure.

Anyway, that little taste of the gladitorial goodness, combined with that whole sense of exclusivity surrounding access to membership, were all it took to whip up some serious interest in getting in. So, late into the proceedings, a handful of additional invitations just so happened to turn up at the auction house right outside. Bidding is still going on, but you would not BELIEVE how high the going rates have gotten already. If this keeps up, we might run out of zeroes.

Meanwhile, word keeps getting around, and more people keep digging around for invites, money in hand. So go on, get out there and help the cause — talk it up, tell your friends, remind them what fucking losers they are if they don’t get in on this shit. PEER PRESSURE, motherfucker. REMEMBER — the first rule of Brawler’s Guild is DON’T STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT BRAWLER’S GUILD.