Seaworthy vessels

Last week's post on Azeroth's fishing industry brought me in mind of one of my favourite aspects of WoW: ships! Normally the idea of Azerothian ships automatically conjures an image of the waterborn-tavern feel of Human-style passenger ships; on further reflection and research for the purposes of this post, however, I now realize there is an enormous wealth of ship designs and purposes. There are numerous "inactive" boats in Azeroth that players will have occasion to visit throughout their adventures, but I'm going to focus on those ships used specifically for (primarily Alliance) transportation—perhaps another time I'll look at fun things like piracy and sunken wrecks and viking invasions.

Ship travel is the lifeline linking many Alliance settlements, just as zeppelins are the web by which the Horde is connected. Boats in Azeroth are crafted by shipwrights of varying cultural background, as evident in the design of their vessels.

Night Elves

Night Elf boats are sleek and simple in their design: a single mast with a single, decorative triangular sail; a graceful prow; an elevated aft that provides a roofed space (inaccessible to passengers); a wooden hull—one might consider their simple and natural elegance to reflect Night Elves' general appreciation for and love of nature. The major Night Elf harbour hub is at Auberdine; from there, one can catch a ride to nearby Darnassus, the new Stormwind harbour, or the Exodar. The Auberdine-Stormwind ship (The Bravery), however, is of Human design, though Night Elves (and even a High Elf) are represented in its multi-faction crew. Boats like Auberdine-Exodar Elune's Blessing and Auberdine-Darnassus The Moonspray are of Night Elf design, as well as being crewed solely by Night Elves (complete with wisps). Being an island town, Feathermoon Stronghold also has a harbour-link to land, but its short-haul ferry only carries passengers to the coast of Feralas (it is often faster to swim, and definitely faster to chug a water-walking potion and ride across the channel).

Humans

Human boats are lovely, creaky wooden things, clipper ships straight from European exploration and trading history. Both their early European design and their warm-hued, pub-like atmosphere are aesthetically congruous with Human building architecture on land. Unlike the Darnassian boats, human ships have squat square rigging and multiple masts—between this and the ample below-decks space (which usually contain hammocks for weary passengers and a barkeep with ample supplies of liquor), they're much more suitable (and comfortable) for long-distance voyages. The Lady Mehley, running between the human settlements of Theramore and Menethil Harbour, is crewed exclusively by humans, though other factions are occasionally to be found on human-style ships (as is the case with The Bravery).

The pirate town of Booty Bay is of course WoW's exemplary harbour town; it's such a salty place that the Boots of the Bay reward from the Kalu'ak fishing derby can instantly port the wearer to Booty Bay's Salty Sailor Tavern. Although all the buildings are situated along a multi-level series of docks, the harbour only offers a single transportation route to Ratchet. Passengers on this human-designed transport ship (The Maiden's Fancy) might be surprised to know that the crew piloting the boat are actually pirates belonging to the Blackwater Raiders. But, since the Blackwater Raiders are sworn enemies of the Bloodsail Buccaneers, you can rest assured that you've entrusted yourself to the "good" pirates.

In addition to their cargo/passenger transport clippers, Humans have also designed more resilient ships to foray through the Frozen Sea to Northrend. Two human-crewed "icebreakers" link the Eastern Kingdoms with Northrend: the Stormwind-Valiance Keep ship The Kraken and the Menethil-Valgarde Northspear. Strangley, these ships each have two masts with rigging, though they neither need nor use sails; rather, they are steam-powered to enable them to cut through the northern ice. Despite the colder climes and icebergs of the northern Frozen Sea, the icebreakers do not offer any cabin shelter or amenities for passengers.

Tuskarr

Up north, the Tuskarr have harnessed the power of giant turtles, upon whose living foundations they construct their ships. Remember when the carrot-on-a-stick used to encourage your mount to give 103%? The Tuskarr use this same technology to manipulate their naturally-driven boats; a team of two drivers uses a mechanism involving pulleys, a fishing rod, and of course a carrot, while the turtle flails its flippers and propels itself forward in an attempt to catch the carrot.

The Tuskarr administer two "active passenger" turtles: the Walker of Waves and Green Island. It takes Green Island roughly three minutes to chase a carrot between Dragonblight's Moa'ki Harbour and Howling Fjord's Kamagua Harbour. Once he reaches the Tuskarr drivers' destination, the carrot is reeled out of sight and the turtle enjoys a 1-minute rest before the carrot is lowered for the return trip. Walker of Waves has a similar experience, with his route connecting Moa'ki Harbour with Unu'pe in Borean Tundra. In addition to these two passenger turtles, Moa'ki Harbour is home to The Half Shell, a turtle boat who is permanently docked and even abandoned by any crew who could kindly reel the tempting carrot out of sight. The turtle-driving technology of the Tuskarr is ingenious, though I imagine the D.E.H.T.A. crew would have something to say about animal rights. But the Tuskarr (who appear to have only recently diverged from walruses in their evolutionary history) are a benevolent and nature-loving race, and no doubt have a sort of symbiotic understanding with turtles, depending upon them for both sea-travel and cavalry on land.

Food Production: Fishing

Azeroth's population is so large that parallel universes (a.k.a. multiple realms) are required to sustain the inhabitants. Although digital beings don't need sustenance, most players occasionally need to eat in order to bolster their flagging health or to augment their powers with buff-food. In this first installment on Azerothian food production, I'm going to look at the seafood industry.

There's a wealth of seafood teeming in Azeroth's coastal waters, inland lakes, and rivers. I'm convinced that the weekly Stranglethorn extravaganza and the new Kalu'ak derby are sly ways of harnessing free labour from prospective champs (Salties like yours truly have put tastyfish on the table every week for years). The Tuskarr are Azeroth's master fishermen and whalers (no surprise from a race that look like recent humanoid descendants of the walrus); their fishing villages no doubt provide much of the seafood that circulates throughout the world. Their efforts are constantly set back by invaders (primarily the Kvaldir) who are bent on exterminating their way of life. The question, then, is not so much who farms seafood, as how does marine life manage to survive in such abundance despite obvious overfishing? It evidently takes tastyfish stocks a full week to recover their numbers.

In addition to the sport-fishing of the weekly competitions, raids are a drain on the ocean's contents. The fish feast is currently the best buff-food available for large groups of players, and multiple wipes can require the consumption of a staggeringly large quantity of fish feasts. The average fish feast is comprised of six fish (evenly distributed amongst three different species) and gently seasoned with a single Northern Spice; the average player may only get (at worst) 1/25th of that per sitting. So really, the fish feast is the most economical way to feed a raid, in addition to being the most beneficial.

Unfortunate species like the Deep Sea Monsterbelly are naturally abundant in certain areas, but are occasionally severely overfished thanks to Marcia Chase who sends all passersby off on a mission to indiscriminately gut every fish they can catch on the off-chance it might contain a clumsy adventurer's severed arm. The worst of it is that Monsterbellies are generally disparaged as being inedible, and will likely be either tossed overboard or sold to a vendor for mere pennies. Species like Winter Squid and Summer Bass are decimated during those months in which their seasonal migrations bring them close to shore; for the remainder of the year, they manage to escape capture. Crawdads might have it the worst, with countless players fishing their schools to extinction just for the chance at the fabled Mr Pinchy.

When their schools are not being actively depopulated by players, Azerothian fish also have to contend with pollution like oil spills and all manner of wreckage debris. Though there's no real evidence that these ecological problems negatively impact fish populations, some fishermen might find an inordinate number of sickly fish amongst their catches. Bodies of water are also full of litter like alchemical vials, lost crates of trade goods, and organic flotsam.

While players might do their own fishing and cooking to sustain themselves, a number of vendors offer various seafood menus. Their wares range from their ordinary to the gourmet; at any rate, they often provide dishes that players cannot create themselves. As well, players can pilfer prepared local seafood off of native peoples and beasts.

As with all the resources Azeroth has to offer, schools of fish spontaneously appear in response to demand. The more you fish, the more often new schools will spawn; this is why fishing the undesirable Moonglow Cuttlefish can be the best way to find Monsterbelly schools—the more Cuttlefish schools you deplete, the more likely a new school (ideally Monsterbelly) will spawn. As such, the idea of "overfishing" has little meaning; abundance is assured and constant. Moreover, hours spent farming fish won't leave telltale traces in the form of fish corpses, as farming beasts does. It's possible to throw your catch back rather than collecting it, though that's unlikely to happen unless one is only after a particular trophy fish.

Music: The Argent Tournament

There's a festival going on right now on the northern coast of Icecrown. The Argent Tournament is serious business: it's where the heroes of the Alliance and Horde put aside their differences in order to hone their skills; the world unites in an effort to overthrow the Lich King. But you wouldn't know it—the place is bustling with camaraderie, cheering audiences, friendly jousting, a souvenir vendor, a coliseum full of spectators, circus-style tents, prizes for contestants to earn, and jovial music. Even the presence of the Black Knight doesn't put a damper on the festive spirit. It's the last of the features mentioned above—the music of the tournament—that I'll be focusing on today. Music in general holds a special place in my heart—so much, in fact, that I devoted a full year of my undergraduate studies to music performance and am still chipping away at a conservatory-based composition degree. If I weren't so sure it were entirely illegal to do so, I'd probably enthusiastically start up a project of transcribing all the great music in WoW.

What is it about early music that lends itself to a fair-type environment? Given that WoW is a neo-medieval MMO, it makes sense for the music to set up an appropriate feel. This isn't to say that the music is strictly archaic in feel; WoW juggles the coexistence of ancient and modern, historical and contemporary, off-beat and popular (take for example the allusions that the Bronze Jam is saturated with)—and this coexistence is ubiquitous in the game. In my opinion, music is the primary guide of how we react emotionally to a film, game, theatrical production, etc. When I listen through the soundtrack to the Fellowship of the Ring, the movie always plays out in my mind's eye (oops! the hobbits just ran out of the cornfield and fell off the cliff). And it's the music that will make me teary in any movie that harnesses the emotional power of harmonic progression. I found The Shining nerve-wracking because the music built up tension so that I was expecting terrible things to appear around each corner, only to find that the musical tension didn't match up with the movie's action—and the reason for that is that the music wasn't even designed for the film; it's merely the third movement of Bartók's Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta slipped into the film. In one of the earlier filmic incarnations of Zorro (I forget which one, precisely) the incongruity of cheerful music being played during every chase scene struck me as inordinately funny and out of place. So in short, music generally guides the emotions and sets the mood.

Players stroll about (or charge around via their jousting mounts) the tournament grounds to the sound of late-medieval-esque music, of the same timbre that you'd encounter in any Azerothian inn. It's a mix of light and determined percussion, tambourine accents, folksy woodwinds and strings, all contributing to a whole that is notable for its traditional colour and warmth of timbre.

The moment you engage any NPC in mounted combat, a trumpet fanfare sounds and is followed by special dueling music. The benevolent inn-like tourney tunes give way to purposeful battle music heavy on the brass, underpinned by a military feel in the percussion. It's the kind of music to which you can't help but feel heroic and (perhaps prematurely) triumphant during battle. For some reason, it always makes me think of a thrilling pirate swordfight—perhaps a good Zorro chase-scene, even.

Many of the tunes that spice up the tournament grounds are what I'd call catchy: they have melodies, consonant harmonies, clear direction, evident structures, and patterns of harmonic tension and resolution that Western music has defined for centuries, unlike zone music which can display any of these features but is more likely to provide ambiance and atmosphere without having large-scale structure or direction. Well-rounded percussion usually drives the tournament music onward, in a pervasive yet non-invasive mixture (entirely dissimilar from the loud, pounding (might I say aggravating?) DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN that punctuates Icecrown zone and looms beyond the outskirts of the tourney—but that's a beef for another week). While some of the tunes take on a slower, more courtly, or even plaintive note, for the most part they are fairly fast-paced and fun.

Humans and Architecture

I've been playing my warlock a lot recently (primarily for her jewelcrafting, but I am enjoying the class), and I have to say—I treat her very well. My druid doesn't mind sleeping under the stars, in the snow, or even hovering in Swift Flight Form. My death knight is lucky if she gets to stand in the threshold of an inn (and she usually has to stand there for days on end). But for some reason, I tend to pamper my warlock: a cherry grog every time she takes the ferry, a square meal at least once a day and a bedtime snack. And she always gets to stay in the best hotels—not just in the threshhold, either, but in an actual bed or at the very least in a chair by a cozy fireplace. She lives in Dalaran now, but her inn of choice while leveling was The Gilded Rose in Stormwind, and in particular the room where Fuzz the cat sleeps (which at first I thought was a dead rat on the table). If I found myself in Kalimdor at 3 am, I'd always take the extra few minutes to fly her to Theramore.

I really love Human architecture in WoW. Goblin towns are too gritty and sandy for my tastes, and the low little mud igloo-type buildings just don't seem hospitable to me. I hate making my toon spend a night in one of those goblin inns where all the beds are in the lobby beside a table laden with decomposing food. For the most part, I also dislike dwarven architecture (except the hobbit-holes at the Wetlands farm between the Dun Morogh airfield and Menethil Harbour). The dank industrial atmosphere of Ironforge conjures up a stuffy, claustrophobic feeling. Even though my main is a Night Elf, I find their architecture rather drafty. And the Draenei seem to fashion their buildings out of heaps of rubble. I've never played a Horde toon more than a few levels, but Orgrimmar seems too spikey to me, Undercity too maze-like (as well as dank), Silvermoon too distant, and Thunder Bluff too cows. You know, too cows. I'm not saying these other styles of architecture are inferior—they're certainly highly interesting, and I intend to look at each one in turn in the future—and I don't dislike the styles as such (how Derridean of me); but if I was in my toon's greaves, I'd find these places more or less inhospitable.

When it comes to architecture in WoW, I love what the Humans do. I love Stormwind in the evening when golden lamplight streams from the windows. I love the thatched roofs and the cobblestone streets, the ivy crawling over all the buildings, the cheery pubs. I love the Elizabethan-style leaded windows and half-timbered walls, alongside massive fortifications made from blocks of hewn stone. When I step into the harbour I always imagine seagulls and a fresh salty breeze. Inside the pubs, the coziness of the crackling fireplace is almost tangible. To me, Human architecture is all about hospitality, comfort, and good cheer, and reaches back to an Early Modern style.

The city itself was rebuilt with the aid of the Ironforge Dwarves (who contributed the Deeprun Tram at this time) after the Second War, during which it was reduced to ruins and overrun by the orcs of the Twilight's Hammer clan. Stormwind as it exists today, then, was built by the joint efforts of Human and Dwarven artisans, who were united in the form of the Stonemasons Guild led by Edwin VanCleef. Some of the builders lent their skills for free, while others afterward demanded payment from the Human nobles (who, in turn, refused to pay and ordered the Stonemasons to disband). If you recall The Green Hills of Stranglethorn, the father of Nesingwary's buddy Sir S. J. Erlgadin became disillusioned with the nobility for this very refusal to pay the builders. VanCleef led his betrayed Stonemasons out of Stormwind, while Baros Alexston (also an original member of the Stonemasons) chose to stay in Stormwind and became City Architect, a title which he holds to this day as he stands in City Hall. Whether or not the tale of the Stonemasons inspires compassion, we are pretty much required by the game to disapprove of the lot of them: they have evolved into the criminal organization of the Defias Brotherhood, and we still venture out to punish VanCleef.

So there you have it: a brief history of the building of Stormwind. But the essence of the Human architectural style preexisted the reconstruction of the capital city. Before that, Human cottages clustered around the SW fortress and in small villages elsewhere. Just as the style itself looks back to earlier Elizabethan times in our own world, the architecture visible in Stormwind and Human villages elsewhere is based on a time earlier than Stormwind itself, earlier than the statues in the Valley of Heroes (which pay tribute to heroes of the Second War). Those earlier edifices survive in rustic Old Town, Stormwind's oldest area, some of which survived the razing.