Clearing the first cave of its infestation left behind dozens of empty holes slathered with slime and grime. Gluey webbing draped everywhere as if the aftermath of a war fought with party poppers. It was the mess of the Maggroths, not the Blight. The world quest was truly ending, not by my hands… or hooves.
But sulking Herald Stone was no more, taken over by the unboxlike spirit of unboxlikeness.
I moved on to the next cave, and the next, and so on… the fights with monster worms melding into one.
I’d eliminate Maggroths before me, scoot forward when I could see where I was stepping, and repeat until I reached the back of each chamber. It was slow and steady progress, like harvesting wheat without machinery, something I had done at my aunt’s farm years back. This also reminded me of those Great War movies—the painstaking clearing of row upon row of trenches.
It would’ve been better to get in the middle of the Maggroth clew, like in the first cave, so they could come at me from all sides and speed things up. But I defaulted to the most basic strategy because I was preoccupied with searching the internet about Health on Hit in MCO. Information was at my fingertips, so I should take advantage of it. I wiped out Maggroth clews on autopilot, diverting brain cells into not thinking like a box rather than fighting.
And, oh yeah, I also looked up what a clew meant—it was a group of earthworms.
I didn’t even notice I had killed a Maggroth with a golden crystal shard until I opened my inventory to examine my [Bracer of Fiery Devise] again.
“One down, four to go,” I said, returning to my screen.
Though a beginner in Mother Core Online, I could tell from my research that lifesteal reigned supreme as sustain for DPS. Kezo was the prime example of its power, turning him into a pseudo-tank through sheer damage.
Lifesteal was king. Health on Hit was a spare prince.
The Health on Hit mechanic regained a fixed amount of health per successful hit, unaffected by healing modifiers.
It was a stepping stone for DPSers who couldn’t yet dish out big pee-pee numbers. For early to mid-game and maybe lower-end DPS builds, Health on Hit had better mileage and consistency. But the stronger the DPS player became, the more lifesteal would inch out its advantage. With the sky being the limit for damage, lifesteal, as a percentage of it, could scale to insane amounts, leaving the fixed Health on Hit eating dust.
Only a few instances where Health on Hit was better than lifesteal at high levels.
Fighting reflect monsters was one. DPSers could lower their damage to not kill themselves and rely on Health on Hit instead of lifesteal. But there were workarounds against reflect monsters, like having more healers with resurrection skills.
Some bosses were so tanky they could turn a player’s ginormous DPS into wimpy slaps. In such a case, Health on Hit might come out on top for most players. Whales, on the other, would have such soaring DPS that their lifesteal would still win out.
Requirements for Health on Hit builds were simple—make sure you can hit the enemy, hit as many of them as possible, and hit very fast.
Of those three, I only fulfilled the AoE part, barely at that.
Tanks didn’t need much accuracy since most taunts and debuffs couldn’t be Evaded unless they were tied to a skill that hit, and those were few. CCs were about half and half. Attack speed wasn’t required for tanks either, for obvious reasons.
This didn’t seem like a feasible route.
Don’t fix what ain’t broke, that was what Pops used to say. Just continue my heal-regen gig that was working quite well. Not only was building heal spells cheaper, but it helped my party mates too. Health on Hit didn’t benefit others.
I imagined Health on Hit would terribly suck against single targets, which was the majority of boss encounters. And what would I do if I couldn’t hit anything an enemy like the Squall Banshee?
“I’m being too unboxlike for my own good.” My anti-meta philosophy required walking off the beaten path. But there were limits to how far I could and should go. Sometimes, I got carried away by novel ideas regardless of their yet-undiscovered value. Or lack of it.
I shouldn’t be different for the sake of being different.
The point of not thinking like a box was to shop at non-meta thrift stores for hidden gems, cobbling them together with my galaxy-spanning creativity and building something that could give meta builds a run for their money at a tiny fraction of the cost. If I’d stack Accuracy Rating and attack speed—stats prized by DPSers—high enough for Health on Hit to be comparable to healing skills, it wouldn’t come cheap at all, defeating my goal.
There was something stimulating in trying to make something work when it clearly wouldn’t—not a relationship advice. But I shouldn’t forget that I wasn’t aiming for gimmicky builds. I made outlandish builds that worked, though they might be gimmicky at times—a huge difference.
I decided to shelve the idea for now, knowing I’d return for it someday. My unboxlike senses told me so.
“Three out of five,” I said, checking how many crystals required for the quest were in my inventory.
Another hour later, I reached the end of Maggroth Clew, and all the Maggroths were no more.
It took longer than expected—I messaged my party mates to wait longer for my glorious presence—because straggler Maggroths slotted themselves in this or that crevice, refusing to come out unless I taunted them. I could’ve finished quicker if I didn’t bother with those hide-and-seek worms, and they really weren’t worth the Essence and Gli to go out of my way to hunt, but I was hoping for a hidden achievement.
I stood in the middle of a small chamber with a massive circular stone door on the side opposite the entrance tunnel. I didn’t slot the five crystal shards into their places on the ground just yet. Arms crossed, right front hoof tapping on the floor, and a brow raised, I waited for something to happen.
There was complete silence, with no sign of life other than my own—and what a great life I had.
A minute passed. Then two. Three?
I threw my hands up in a resigned sigh. “Still nothing?” I asked the Maggroths carved on the door. “No hidden achievement? Did I just waste my time killing all of you?”
Rapid clicking, like chattering teeth, echoed through the tunnel. The sounds of something heavy getting dragged along the ground followed it. The whole chamber vibrated. I could feel it through my hooves.
I turned around, squinting at the dark path I had trodden—it was coming.
The [Lvl 53 Greater Demon Maggroth] first appeared as a bunch of red orbs below its floating name. It crawled within reach of the light of my [Greater Pyro Shell] and pulsing [Healing Touch], exposing its large, spear-like head as wide as my [Tower Shield], ending in several pairs of mismatched mandibles. Its eyes weren’t arranged symmetrically, just plopped in the middle of its face like a sprinkling of caviar.
Horns randomly stuck out the sides of its head and through the veiny skin of its body. Must be why it was called a Demon Maggroth. But I couldn’t see what made it deserving of the title ‘Great,’ much less ‘Greater.’
Well, this Greater Demon Maggroth was about to fight the Greatest Herald Stone!
My final opponent emerged out of the tunnel. I readied myself for its charge. But the Demon Maggroth didn’t come barreling at me. It swung the front of its body sideways and stuck itself on the walls. Then it crawled up the side of the chamber and unto the ceiling, scrunching its body while upside down. It must have some pretty sticky slime to make its colossal body defy gravity.
I groaned, staring up at the giant monster worm. “Do I need a ranged skill for this fight?”
I took out a [Morabodry] bottle and [Vaporizing Reagent], gauging if [Poison Bottle Cast] could reach it. Surely, it was going to come down, right?
Something did come down, but not the Demon Maggroth.
Cocoons the same size as Swinelings exited the Demon Maggroth’s butt in a very unflattering fashion. Not sure if worms had butts. Around a dozen of these sacks hit the ground in disgustingly wet plops. They quickly enlarged as if inflated balloons, bursting into Maggroth Grubs of all types.
“Oh, it’s some kind of queen?” I threw the bottles I held up at it, ignoring the incoming Grubs. A poisonous cloud exploded a meter shy of Mommy Maggroth. It slinked away, continuing to drop babies on me. “I’ll just wait until it runs out of eggs, I guess?”
Three waves of egg drops later, and Mommy Maggroth itself came down. Its attacks were weak and excruciatingly slow, trivializing my retribution damage. My [Greater Pyro Shell] also couldn’t pop as fast as I wanted.
[Blight Cloud] pulled in the heavy lifting for DPS. And, of course, my lovely poisons. I layered [Morabodry] and a [Nam-go Poison Bottle], one of my few remaining ones, to quickly kill the Mommy Maggroth while it was on the ground.
Nam-go Poison Bottle | Item Level: 15
Epic | Consumable | No Requirement
A potent poison carefully extracted from the Nam-go serpent and distilled to its most concentrated form over a fortnight. This modestly difficult-to-prepare concoction reduces a poisoned unit’s Armor and Health Regeneration by 10% and causes a loss of 2% of Max Health per second. (If applied to equipment, it has a 12% (10.5%) chance of poisoning the enemy per damage instance. Poisoned Status lasts for 6(+5) seconds)
Duration: 10 Minutes
Uses: 5/5
It would’ve been a fast fight since Mommy Maggroth didn’t have much in the way of Poison Resistance, its life getting shredded by two poisons and [Blight Cloud], but it had something up its sleeve.
Something up its… collar? A worm wouldn’t have sleeves if it could wear clothes. It wouldn’t have collars, either.
Mommy Maggroth ate its babies, replenishing a massive chunk of its health and boosting its defenses by a crapton. After ten or so Grubs, [Blight Cloud] only did a third of its initial damage. The DoTs were thankfully unaffected.
A quarter of its health gone—more than that before it started an infanticide buffet—Mommy Maggroth decided to climb back up.
I stared after it. “I guess I’ll just enjoy leveling on your babies for—” A couple of Grubs died to [Blight Cloud], giving me Essence and Gli. “Oho! What do we have here?”
[ Unlocked: Aritu Form Ocadule Rank to 4 ]
Clearing the first cave of its infestation left behind dozens of empty holes slathered with slime and grime. Gluey webbing draped everywhere as if the aftermath of a war fought with party poppers. It was the mess of the Maggroths, not the Blight. The world quest was truly ending, not by my hands… or hooves.
But sulking Herald Stone was no more, taken over by the unboxlike spirit of unboxlikeness.
I moved on to the next cave, and the next, and so on… the fights with monster worms melding into one.
I’d eliminate Maggroths before me, scoot forward when I could see where I was stepping, and repeat until I reached the back of each chamber. It was slow and steady progress, like harvesting wheat without machinery, something I had done at my aunt’s farm years back. This also reminded me of those Great War movies—the painstaking clearing of row upon row of trenches.
It would’ve been better to get in the middle of the Maggroth clew, like in the first cave, so they could come at me from all sides and speed things up. But I defaulted to the most basic strategy because I was preoccupied with searching the internet about Health on Hit in MCO. Information was at my fingertips, so I should take advantage of it. I wiped out Maggroth clews on autopilot, diverting brain cells into not thinking like a box rather than fighting.
And, oh yeah, I also looked up what a clew meant—it was a group of earthworms.
I didn’t even notice I had killed a Maggroth with a golden crystal shard until I opened my inventory to examine my [Bracer of Fiery Devise] again.
“One down, four to go,” I said, returning to my screen.
Though a beginner in Mother Core Online, I could tell from my research that lifesteal reigned supreme as sustain for DPS. Kezo was the prime example of its power, turning him into a pseudo-tank through sheer damage.
Lifesteal was king. Health on Hit was a spare prince.
The Health on Hit mechanic regained a fixed amount of health per successful hit, unaffected by healing modifiers.
It was a stepping stone for DPSers who couldn’t yet dish out big pee-pee numbers. For early to mid-game and maybe lower-end DPS builds, Health on Hit had better mileage and consistency. But the stronger the DPS player became, the more lifesteal would inch out its advantage. With the sky being the limit for damage, lifesteal, as a percentage of it, could scale to insane amounts, leaving the fixed Health on Hit eating dust.
Only a few instances where Health on Hit was better than lifesteal at high levels.
Fighting reflect monsters was one. DPSers could lower their damage to not kill themselves and rely on Health on Hit instead of lifesteal. But there were workarounds against reflect monsters, like having more healers with resurrection skills.
Some bosses were so tanky they could turn a player’s ginormous DPS into wimpy slaps. In such a case, Health on Hit might come out on top for most players. Whales, on the other, would have such soaring DPS that their lifesteal would still win out.
Requirements for Health on Hit builds were simple—make sure you can hit the enemy, hit as many of them as possible, and hit very fast.
Of those three, I only fulfilled the AoE part, barely at that.
Tanks didn’t need much accuracy since most taunts and debuffs couldn’t be Evaded unless they were tied to a skill that hit, and those were few. CCs were about half and half. Attack speed wasn’t required for tanks either, for obvious reasons.
This didn’t seem like a feasible route.
Don’t fix what ain’t broke, that was what Pops used to say. Just continue my heal-regen gig that was working quite well. Not only was building heal spells cheaper, but it helped my party mates too. Health on Hit didn’t benefit others.
I imagined Health on Hit would terribly suck against single targets, which was the majority of boss encounters. And what would I do if I couldn’t hit anything an enemy like the Squall Banshee?
“I’m being too unboxlike for my own good.” My anti-meta philosophy required walking off the beaten path. But there were limits to how far I could and should go. Sometimes, I got carried away by novel ideas regardless of their yet-undiscovered value. Or lack of it.
I shouldn’t be different for the sake of being different.
The point of not thinking like a box was to shop at non-meta thrift stores for hidden gems, cobbling them together with my galaxy-spanning creativity and building something that could give meta builds a run for their money at a tiny fraction of the cost. If I’d stack Accuracy Rating and attack speed—stats prized by DPSers—high enough for Health on Hit to be comparable to healing skills, it wouldn’t come cheap at all, defeating my goal.
There was something stimulating in trying to make something work when it clearly wouldn’t—not a relationship advice. But I shouldn’t forget that I wasn’t aiming for gimmicky builds. I made outlandish builds that worked, though they might be gimmicky at times—a huge difference.
I decided to shelve the idea for now, knowing I’d return for it someday. My unboxlike senses told me so.
“Three out of five,” I said, checking how many crystals required for the quest were in my inventory.
Another hour later, I reached the end of Maggroth Clew, and all the Maggroths were no more.
It took longer than expected—I messaged my party mates to wait longer for my glorious presence—because straggler Maggroths slotted themselves in this or that crevice, refusing to come out unless I taunted them. I could’ve finished quicker if I didn’t bother with those hide-and-seek worms, and they really weren’t worth the Essence and Gli to go out of my way to hunt, but I was hoping for a hidden achievement.
I stood in the middle of a small chamber with a massive circular stone door on the side opposite the entrance tunnel. I didn’t slot the five crystal shards into their places on the ground just yet. Arms crossed, right front hoof tapping on the floor, and a brow raised, I waited for something to happen.
There was complete silence, with no sign of life other than my own—and what a great life I had.
A minute passed. Then two. Three?
I threw my hands up in a resigned sigh. “Still nothing?” I asked the Maggroths carved on the door. “No hidden achievement? Did I just waste my time killing all of you?”
Rapid clicking, like chattering teeth, echoed through the tunnel. The sounds of something heavy getting dragged along the ground followed it. The whole chamber vibrated. I could feel it through my hooves.
I turned around, squinting at the dark path I had trodden—it was coming.
The [Lvl 53 Greater Demon Maggroth] first appeared as a bunch of red orbs below its floating name. It crawled within reach of the light of my [Greater Pyro Shell] and pulsing [Healing Touch], exposing its large, spear-like head as wide as my [Tower Shield], ending in several pairs of mismatched mandibles. Its eyes weren’t arranged symmetrically, just plopped in the middle of its face like a sprinkling of caviar.
Horns randomly stuck out the sides of its head and through the veiny skin of its body. Must be why it was called a Demon Maggroth. But I couldn’t see what made it deserving of the title ‘Great,’ much less ‘Greater.’
Well, this Greater Demon Maggroth was about to fight the Greatest Herald Stone!
My final opponent emerged out of the tunnel. I readied myself for its charge. But the Demon Maggroth didn’t come barreling at me. It swung the front of its body sideways and stuck itself on the walls. Then it crawled up the side of the chamber and unto the ceiling, scrunching its body while upside down. It must have some pretty sticky slime to make its colossal body defy gravity.
I groaned, staring up at the giant monster worm. “Do I need a ranged skill for this fight?”
I took out a [Morabodry] bottle and [Vaporizing Reagent], gauging if [Poison Bottle Cast] could reach it. Surely, it was going to come down, right?
Something did come down, but not the Demon Maggroth.
Cocoons the same size as Swinelings exited the Demon Maggroth’s butt in a very unflattering fashion. Not sure if worms had butts. Around a dozen of these sacks hit the ground in disgustingly wet plops. They quickly enlarged as if inflated balloons, bursting into Maggroth Grubs of all types.
“Oh, it’s some kind of queen?” I threw the bottles I held up at it, ignoring the incoming Grubs. A poisonous cloud exploded a meter shy of Mommy Maggroth. It slinked away, continuing to drop babies on me. “I’ll just wait until it runs out of eggs, I guess?”
Three waves of egg drops later, and Mommy Maggroth itself came down. Its attacks were weak and excruciatingly slow, trivializing my retribution damage. My [Greater Pyro Shell] also couldn’t pop as fast as I wanted.
[Blight Cloud] pulled in the heavy lifting for DPS. And, of course, my lovely poisons. I layered [Morabodry] and a [Nam-go Poison Bottle], one of my few remaining ones, to quickly kill the Mommy Maggroth while it was on the ground.
Nam-go Poison Bottle | Item Level: 15
Epic | Consumable | No Requirement
A potent poison carefully extracted from the Nam-go serpent and distilled to its most concentrated form over a fortnight. This modestly difficult-to-prepare concoction reduces a poisoned unit’s Armor and Health Regeneration by 10% and causes a loss of 2% of Max Health per second. (If applied to equipment, it has a 12% (10.5%) chance of poisoning the enemy per damage instance. Poisoned Status lasts for 6(+5) seconds)
Duration: 10 Minutes
Uses: 5/5
It would’ve been a fast fight since Mommy Maggroth didn’t have much in the way of Poison Resistance, its life getting shredded by two poisons and [Blight Cloud], but it had something up its sleeve.
Something up its… collar? A worm wouldn’t have sleeves if it could wear clothes. It wouldn’t have collars, either.
Mommy Maggroth ate its babies, replenishing a massive chunk of its health and boosting its defenses by a crapton. After ten or so Grubs, [Blight Cloud] only did a third of its initial damage. The DoTs were thankfully unaffected.
A quarter of its health gone—more than that before it started an infanticide buffet—Mommy Maggroth decided to climb back up.
I stared after it. “I guess I’ll just enjoy leveling on your babies for—” A couple of Grubs died to [Blight Cloud], giving me Essence and Gli. “Oho! What do we have here?”
[ Unlocked: Aritu Form Ocadule Rank to 4 ]
