Jim Moreno's "RoleCraft" MMO Column

RoleCraft: K.I.S.S. Your Character

So, there you have my way of rolling characters and their background stories at once. Keeping it short and simple with the Five W's has always worked for me. As I said, there is no single set method for character creation, and my way may not work for you. By the way, as a testament to my method, read below to see the latest character I recently rolled on the Blackwater Raiders realm in WoW. Role on!

Arsonite Tinkerboom

Salutations! My name is Arsonite Tinkerboom, but I'm more commonly known as Arson, for reasons which will become blazingly clear.

I was but a very young and minuscule child, not yet graced with the ability of personal locomotion, when we were forced to flee from Gnomeregan during the invasion. My father, an engineering magician, and my mother, an alchemist magician, had volunteered to help escort a group of refugees to Kharanos. They were always ready and willing to lend their assistance to aid our people, and their help was always readily received. My parents were very skilled in their professions, which brought them much respect and admiration, and they were known all through Gnomeregan. They had an incredible knack for blending their magical, alchemical, and engineering arts into the most fantastic contraptions.

One of those grand inventions was called the Baby Gnomester 120, a small enclosed metal basket designed to keep gnome babies toasty warm during long ventures around Dun Morogh. Into this I was placed for safety and warmth as we made the first part of the trek to the safety of Brewnall Village.

All was well until we neared the perimeter of Iceflow Lake and the village. A roaming band of Trolls spotted us, and wasted no time in launching an attack on our meager party. During the confrontation, my mother, carrying me, was hit by a blast of magic, which separated me from her and sent us both sliding out onto the surface of the frozen lake. A couple of Trolls, perhaps thinking the Baby Gnomester 120 to be filled with shiny treasure trinkets, bounded onto the lake towards me, scuffling with one another on who would be the first to claim me as a prize. As they were almost on me, they each one jumped clumsily to reach my basket first, and when they landed, broke through the ice. Sadly, I followed them.

Alas, the Baby Gnomester wasn't designed as a floatation device, nor was it meant for underwater submersion, especially in water as cold as that of Iceflow Lake. It did have a magically controlled thermostat, however, but the sudden shock of the sub-zero water surrounding it was too much too quickly. The magic was short-circuited and over-compensated, causing wave after wave of arcane energy and fire magic to flood through me unchecked. I was only submerged for half a minute before being drawn out by a priest in the group, but it was those thirty seconds that transformed me completely.

We made it to Brewnall, and eventually Kharanos and Ironforge, where my race and my parents would steel themselves into dealing with life as we Gnomes know it now. However, it soon became fiery evident to the entire population of Ironforge that something had happened to me during the flight from Gnomeregan. I had developed an innate communion with the element of fire, which more often than not would take occasion to manifest itself in the most inappropriate times and ways. Some of those ways were rather trifling, like always having an aura of noticeable heat surrounding me. Not uncomfortable, that, but as I grew, I noticed it would at times get rather intense the more excitable I became. As a babe, feeding time was a constant eyebrow-singing affair for my mother. Not to mention when it came time to change my small-clothes. Even unto today, sometimes flammable things nearby will up and strike flame, often without my knowledge. Until I smell the smoke, that is. King Magni's beard has a very peculiar scent when on fire, in case you ever wondered.

It was that last event that caused the Dwarvish Council to demand that the Gnomish Council send me away from Ironforge before I 'accidentally' burned the entire mountain down. I was shipped off to be with the Night Elves, to contemplate and eschew the mystery of magic that fills me. For 15 seasons, the druids of Teldrassil spent long days and used hundreds of bottles of burn salve in a valiant effort to help me study my mind and physical presence to understand and perhaps control the arcane fires that continually flow from me. Though they did their best, I intrinsically knew deep down that I'd have to find those answers myself, especially after the fourth time of setting a portion of their lovely 'indestructible' home aflame.

So, here I am now, out on my own with my own skills, seeking to constantly experiment for the way to correct what I am, to fix this seemingly irrevocable conundrum that I have become. My hope is that I will overcome the matter before I just suddenly explode. Hmm, is it getting warm in here?