Dancer Archive

Let me begin by giving my warmest gratitude to SOE. This was such a diversion from the mundane, and they have been quite successful in sustaining my interest all throughout the last two years. Technology can be a wonderful and liberating force. It certainly was for me in terms of the medium of online recreation, and I consider myself most blessed to have the opportunity to have the means, and the leisure to be a part of something like this.

We need to be grateful for the fact that we can choose to engage in such recreation. It is by choice we come here, stay here—and eventually, leave here.

I’d also like to thank all of you, who play entertainers. There are too many to list, but nearly all of you have at some point piqued my curiosity, made me think, and helped me become a better player. And it is my most sincere hope that as I write my final post, on my final day, I have contributed something to your own experience here, whether it was here in the game, or on the forums.

I played the very best game I could play. Indeed, at launch, we were all encouraged to do so. The feeling back then was that we—all of us—were responsible for more than simply our selfish interests. We were responsible for building a galaxy. And by doing so, we had so much fun in the process! I consider the time here well spent if we can leave the game better than we found it. It is my hope that I have done so.

Entertainers, never doubt that you play the hardest, most challenging, most thought provoking, richest, most highly skilled professions in the game. Not only were they meant to be played, but also they were meant to be played with an extraordinary amount of patience, skill, observation, passion, and intelligence. Everyone can pick up the skill boxes, but not many can play it to its capabilities.

The reason the professions require a particularly talented player, is that the entire game play rests upon your skills as a person, and not your skills as a character. Loot will make you a better smuggler, but no loot will make you a better entertainer. Krayt pearls will make you a better Jedi, but no item you can acquire, or craft, will make you a better entertainer. The "tools of the trade" are entirely in your hands.

From the momentwe step off the refugee ship at Mos Eisley,we have them. And they stay withus throughout our career. Getting better at entertaining requires a studious mind, a giving heart, an analytical outlook, and a courageous temperament. Because when it is time to play our profession, all the distinctions that can be recognized by code melt away, and all that is left isthe ability to affect the mind behind the blue bar of the avatars that witness your craft.

That is why these professions are worth playing. They are a true test of player skill. For while the Teras Kasi Artist has about twenty different options to overcome his or her challenge, the entertainer has an infinite repertoire of options to choose from, when entertaining other players.

The game play of these professions is so incredibly subtle, that it can, and has, been mistaken for mere "chit chat." Nothing can be further from the truth. Because there is nothing all that spectacular about "chit chat," or, "socializing." Our detractors are in fact correct when they see no point in "gabbing with entertainers." Mere gab doesn’t require much skill, nor does it require an entertainer. The secret to making the professions work was not to be typical, but to be grandiose.

"Hello Noolos, how are you?" is instant death in the cantina professions. If I am to give us one piece of advice, it is to never leave it up to the patron to give you something to talk about. The moment that happens, it is no longer the entertainer entertaining the patron. It is the patron entertaining the entertainer.

If necessary, a skilled entertainer needs to talk for the patron, as well as for himself or herself. Never let the dialogue cease. Fill the air with spatial, but always ensure that the spatial text is fresh, and indicative of a talented mind. Never let one moment go by that something isn’t being crafted from your keystrokes, and your imagination.

When I was a modern dancer, my bare feet would be bruised, calloused, sore, and gashed after being in brutal contact with the unforgiving hardness of the studio, or stage. But only by subjecting oneself to the suffering, can one convey the beauty, and passion of the craft.

And all I have to say on that subject is that if you as entertainers leap beyond the norms of mere comfort, then it will show. Patrons cannot help but notice. One must pound the keyboard with every ounce of strength the entertainer can muster, and with all possible speed, and precision. For only then will an entertainer cease to be simply another object of noise in the background of a player’s psyche, and become a spectacle in his or her own right: a shining beacon of enthusiasm and talent.

Many have criticized me for not being in the cantina for very long stretches of time. Its because I simply couldn’t do it for longer. Entertaining at a peak standard is a physical and mental drain like no other activity in the game. And the surest way to understand if you are done for the night, is to find yourself wasting a minute in there thinking about what to say next.

Then again, I can think of no other profession in the game, where I can walk into any popular area, type myself mad for 20 minutes, and have 200,000 credits come out of thin air, and into my garter. I’ve seen it happen, right under Briha’s nose. But it was never easy. It was never casual. And it wasn’t out of the kindness of their hearts. It was bloody hard work that the patrons couldn’t help but recognize as such.

The game has changed, and there are good things, and problematic aspects to it, from my perspective. The good part about it is that one doesn’t have to type one’s fingers raw to justify one’s place in the galactic order of things amid the spare accounts, and vapid apathy so common in 2004. I can’t blame anyone for being happy about that, at least.

However, this also means that typing one’s fingers raw makes very little difference. It is as if one’s entire experience depends on the random vagaries of chance. No longer is it within our power to be that shining beacon of enthusiasm and talent. We simply wait to be asked to give a command, and we give it.

It is not the "giving part" that I am having trouble with. It’s the "waiting to be asked" I am having difficulty with. I never had to cope with that as an entertainer before in quite the same way. I’m used to making things happen. Not waiting for things to happen.

I cannot say that I’ll be back, but I’ll keep the thought open if I can see new possibilities in the profession that I may enjoy.

Ultimately, if it is satisfying to you all, then I am very happy. I can think of no more deserving players. At times I have been harsh, and demanding of us. I wished we could have had more faith in ourselves that our performance makes a difference, but I admit it was hard to imagine that, given what we were through together. I was hard on us, perhaps because I was hard on myself. Which seems natural, since I truly believe that we play the most challenging group of professions in the game.

Regardless of whether you believe that or not, let me conclude by saying that I hope this unguilded dancer, who never saw the inside of the Geonosis bio lab, who never witnessed the white walls of the Corellian Corvette, who never glowed very brightly with the Force, and who never even could dream of entering the Endor home of the Death Watch, was nevertheless important. Did something noble, or notable. Was an asset to what the game was about, and made the experience better for those who saw her.

I did it for them, and for you all.

That was Sirii Ajaan’s game.

That was PoetDancer’s game.