A lot has changed since I last wrote about my experiences with ArenaNet's massively-multiplayer online game Guild Wars 2. I may still be a newbie by the standards of a majority of the title's player-base, but my personal confidence in my own abilities is beginning to grow. I've sunk roughly ten more hours into the game since my last article. I am level twenty now, and the fluorescent flora of Caledon Forest is no longer my exclusive domain. 

Accompanied by my two friends, I journeyed north into the hilly, lakeside region called Kessex Hills. My first experiences in the Hills occurred when I was level fourteen, which is officially "underleveled" for the recommended range of 15-25. This handicap eradicated any illusions I'd previously had as to the game's difficulty level. Now, even single enemy encounters tested my finger dexterity and forced me to utilize my hotbar skills if I hoped to survive. Vicious reptilian Skales proved to be formidable foes, knocking my character to the ground and proceeding to unleash a volley of attacks on my delicate armor if I wasn't careful.

These encounters taught me that my best bet in Guild Wars 2 is almost always cooperation. During an event encounter with a Krait blood witch, I found that my petty warhammer strikes did little to diminish the boss' health. My only hope for survival was to hang back and unleash ranged attacks when I could, chipping away at the blood witch's health and carefully reviving fallen allies on the outskirts while higher-leveled players did the heavy lifting. This instance made me realize that Guild Wars 2's MMO nature means I'm not always the hero of the story. Plenty of in-game challenges aren't meant to be conquered by me -- they're intended to be taken on by us. Cooperation isn't just encouraged; it's mandatory, especially for lower-leveled players like me hoping to earn the tantalizing experience offered by a higher-leveled quest.

Completing these activities and exploring the map led to my acquisition of a small pool of skill points, commodities that I hardly bothered with during my first hours with the game. My initial investments were cautious: a passive health buff and improved healing spell to complement my planned tank build. Then, I learned that the game offers up enough skill points to unlock a character's entire skill bank by the endgame. Eased by the knowledge that these early skill investments wouldn't lock me into a pre-determined path -- and that Guild Wars 2 is all about fun and experimentation -- I soon had a ghostly greatsword and hammer summoned to fight by my side.

But all of these skill investments and my fancy gear disappeared when my friends and I were submerged underwater. Here, all I had was a spear, breathing mask, and a paltry collection of three weak skills. Survival mandated eternal sideways strafing around hostile Krait. Having grown to enjoy the unconventional feel of on-foot MMO combat, such affection did not transfer to the underwater sections, and we soon left the aquatic combat behind in favor of more grounded adventures. My hope is that the hours to come will bring underwater skill advancements to spice up the combat, but for now, land will be my primary habitat. 

By this point, my friends and I had all reached the requisite level to participate in the game's titular guild interactions. Rather than going the safe route and joining an established powerhouse, we pooled what little money we had and started our own nascent organization: Cheese People. We immediately used a few spare tomes to boost our guild's influence into the thousands. 

Despite our guild's current (pathetically low) standing in the broader scheme of things, I felt a burgeoning ambition to spread Cheese People's influence. ArenaNet seems to have succeeded in crafting an accessible system that grants immediate player satisfaction. Our fellowship of four made me feel less like just another dot on the map, and more like a genuine part of something, however trivial that something may be in its current form.

One Cheese People member made the rest of us privy to the location of a group of portals in an area called Lion's Arch. Initially, the portals were used mainly to access a few new forms of our party's guilty pleasure: the hilariously clunky yet somehow compelling jumping puzzles, which grant rewarding chests at the ends of long series of precarious leaps. They may not be the most efficient use of time for a player focused squarely on hitting the endgame as quickly as possible, but for our party of casual players, they always prove to be the perfect break from monster slaying and aimless exploration.

More importantly, the Lion's Arch portals granted us alluring access to previously inaccessible zones, opening up the world of Tyria to us for the first time. Our first jaunt took us to the starting area of the Asura race: the futuristic Rata Sum. Here, I was presented with a sight for sore eyes in the form of players whose levels were lower than mine. For all I know, these players could have been veterans gone back to crank a new character up to level eighty for the umpteenth time. Regardless, it was gratifying to feel better than another real player, to look upon their starting gear and trot past proudly with my mystic hammer and customized armor. 

After some battles with heretic Asura and one particularly memorable enormous, gelatinous mini-boss, I reached level twenty. With the next set of my personal story missions unlocked and the ability to begin my character build just ten levels away at thirty, I'm ready to embark on a new set of adventures wherever the portals take me and my guild-mates next. 

---

---