'Twas the month before Christmas

[reneequixtcl]

'Twas the month before Christmas, when all through the town,

Not a creature was stirring, the servers were down;

The questions were posted in the forums with care,

In the hopes that Thunderheart soon would be there.

The children were playing a whole different game,

While visions of Night Elf chix kept them away;

And Tom in his composite, I in my RIS,

Were debating the plan for today's hunting bliss.

When out on the chat room arose angry chatter,

I sprang to the website to see what's the matter;

Away to the patch notes I flew in a tick,

And barfed up my pancakes, I knew I was sick.

The thread it was ugly with new posted gripes,

I tossed down some Pepto to settle my pipes;

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

My Ranger was missing, and with all his gear!

"A respec, that's it?" I said in hoarse voice,

I knew in a moment I just had no choice;

More rapid than eagles the Jedi they spawned,

They whistled and shouted, and were instantly pwned.

Now CH, now Carbineer, now Ranger and Doc,

And Pistoleer, Rifleman, Squad Leaders mocked;

To buy a new game, they went off to the mall,

They dashed away, dashed away, dashed away all.

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane flied,

Twenty Seven professions just went by the side;

So players they protest, TC avatars on left,

In the hopes of regaining all that's bereft.

And then in a twinkling appeared Mister Smed,

I read his new post, and then scratched my head;

"Some good may come of this," I thought with some hope,

Then the community arrived, complete with a rope.

"A bundle of lies!" they threw at his back,

"Return to your office, you must be on crack!"

His eyes - how they twinkled, with tears oh so grim,

"I'll send the Producer, they'll listen to him."

"The players they love it!" Torres corresponded,

"Who does he mean?" the veterans responded;

Then came the interview on G4 one night,

But Julio Torres was nowhere in sight!

So Lucas is now rolling over in grave,

Debating the wisdom of the license he gave;

The lessons are learned, sometimes hard they can be,

"Don't mess with the veterans, our investors they be."

But don't give up hope, though the future seems lame,

Put down the noosed rope, and go play the game!

Bring forth the ideas, DEVs read with sharp eyes,

But make no mistake, it means the job that you prize.

And so with great sadness, we all hope for the best,

But it's GALAXIES by Jove, forget all the rest;

Then I heard Wepps exclaim as he wrote out of sight,

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fight.

Original poem link

[Sei Teirson]

Nicely said. Great poem