I am a loot chest griefer. I make no apologies. I make no excuses. And, I intend to continue my life of chest griefery.

I wasn’t always such a poor example of a Warcraft citizen. I used to dutifully empty every loot chest, even the crap stuff like banana bread and wild hog shanks, but it’s been a long time since I was so conscientous.

My life of chest griefing began one day about two months ago when I was out at The Best Camp Ever in Burning Steppes. Nasty little hellhole, the Steppes, but it was ideal for a mature rogue like me in need of some major cash: squishy casters and a few melee mobs sprinkled around to keep it interesting.

My modus operandi: pick their pockets, then rock their orcish world. As a bonus, every 20 to 30 minutes a chest would spawn in one of four positions. And, there’s more! About once a day, a named mob would spawn to check up on his camp and he would get the same treatment as his lesser brethren. Usually, he had a rare or epic loot on his dead body.

Yes, it was heaven on Azeroth.

Then the professional farmers got squeezed out of Azshara and the Scarlet Monastery — a dynamic virtual world with a changing economy (that old chestnut) — and soon thereafter, they discovered The Best Camp Ever.

The first pro to arrive refreshed my memory of the old gaming commandment: Thou Shalt Protect Thy Camp with Thine Own Life. He waited in the shadows until I had secured the immediate area near the chest and scuttled over to nab the loot.

A wise guy, eh? Revenge was going to be a bitch. Even though, it was my bad for letting my guard down — I should know better — still, payback is a bitch.

The next chest I let sit: orcs roaming nearby, chatting amongst themselves, wary for any intruders. (La la la. I’m busy at this yonder camp, help yourself, intruding rogue, thought I.)

And so he did. He was in a rush, however, concerned that I might take an interest in the new chest. I feigned disinterest and continued my slaughter at the camp next door, ever watchful for the intruder to either pop a vanish or to begin work on the last mob. (Please let it be a vanish, thought I.)

The intruder’s luck started to take a turn for the worse when a caster jumped into the dogpile and he started to drop like a sack of dirt. (DO IT!! VANISH!!! DO IT!!) Out of options, he did it. He popped the vanish, it stuck (and isn’t that a surprise with how buggy that shit is) and he slunk away to heal up.

(La la la. I’m still busy over here. Oh no, I hope I don’t die to this solo mob that’s a few levels under me.)

He re-engaged the remaining two mobs with a sap routine (poor man’s mesmerize, for the WoW noobs), and it was payback time.

Now before everyone emails and comments what an asscrack I am (true), the intruder was, and is, a pro farmer since Day One, a repeat chest offender, and his steamrolling tactics are legend. I might not treat a regular player with the same disregard. It’s a mood thing. Anyways.

He’s busy with two live mobs and one sapped mob lolling its head back and forth, so I brought a couple of patrolling orcs over to visit and knocked his sapped mob out of its stupor. And in a plume of smoke, I vanished and stepped away to watch the fun.

He struggled for a while, sucked down a potion, used his dodge skill, he pulled out all the stops to stay alive. What he SHOULD have done was sprinted his ass out of there, but live and learn. I know the feeling: sprint is admitting defeat.

Anyhoo, enjoy the graveyard, motherfucker, and seriously weigh the potential consequences next time before you decide to steal one of my chests.

And now, I’m calling the tune at this camp. And this is how it’s going to work: The intruder can farm mobs along beside me all he wants. I don’t own the camp. But these chests, they be mine. I did the work to clear and split the spawns, I was here first, and I will do what it takes to be the first to look inside. Play nice and I’ll do the same. Just so he knows.

He arrived back from the graveyard after a few minutes and, apparently, decided that he would just watch the outside chest spawn. That’s cool. He had a 25 percent chance in scoring. If that, because if he has to pop a vanish again … well, he was probably aware of the problem with that now. (As if he hadn’t tried that little strat himself on others already. I KNOW he does the rogue train on hapless noobs. I’ve seen it in action.)

So I changed the game on him. When the chest would spawn in one of the other three positions, I’d empty it except for the crap loot. The banana breads, the wild hog shanks, the bolts of silk cloth (wtf), those would stay in the chest and I would move on. Eventually, curiousity would get the best of him after about 30 minutes and he’d stealth around to the other part of the camp to check on the chests.

Hey, there’s the chest! Go loot it! And he would. heh.

We did this back and forth for a couple of hours or so: me looting all but the banana bread, him stealthing over to remove the bread. He tired of it and stoned/griffed to Stranglethorn Vale … probably to terrorize the level 30 questers. Rang, rang, Stranglethorn, farmer in the house!

The next time you happen upon a chest in Warcraft that only has moldy food or bolts of cloth inside, maybe you’ll wonder: are you the victim of the loot randomizer or are you the victim of a chest griefer?

Either way, you’re a victim. I know how you feel, brotha.