So, ive recently bought a trident, and ive noticed the painfully awful task of getting 6 EYES, 6 ENRAGED EYES, AND THEY ALL HAVE TO BE EITHER TRADABLE OR UNTRADABLE.
Now, if your like me and dont have 7 stormforged augs 3 sag ccds and a team of scientists to calculate the exact angle of getting an enraged eye, you'll realize that this is insanely challenging and nearly impossible.
Now, if you think about it, why does it take one jewel, to put tree root on a scepter, and one abyssal jewel, to put the mobi trait on a achreon, but SIX enraged eyes to enrage a trident...
All im suggesting is that we lower it to one, the fact that its 6 makes no sense, and makes it nearly impossible to do, enraging a trident does arguably less then tree root or mobi trait, so why is it like this.
Just please, please lower it to one, or just make it an entirely different task, maybe even get kills with it, like x amount of kills enrages it.
Im not sure how it can be changed other then just being lowered, but just change it from 6, please.
It was the first of it's kind to have this ability of adding things on to enhance it. Six eyes was meant to represent the total the kraken itself has. Personally back when the trident first dropped I didn't have any issue getting eyes to enrage it using only an azuredge which is far outclassed at this point. Also, just save up and buy eyes if you can't drop them. Enraged trident does a lot more over normal, so idk what you mean when you say it does less than a mediocre mobi trait like acheron's gets. It gets 2 extra shields that cover more space, mobi increase from 10 to 25, a trishot for some instagib situations, and some really shitty tentacles(?), but hey, they're there. If anything, the trident abilities themselves need tweaked to make it more worthwhile.
03-19-2020, 07:51 PM (This post was last modified: 03-19-2020, 07:52 PM by squaje.)
(03-19-2020, 07:47 PM)Ace Wrote: It was the first of it's kind to have this ability of adding things on to enhance it. Six eyes was meant to represent the total the kraken itself has. Personally back when the trident first dropped I didn't have any issue getting eyes to enrage it using only an azuredge which is far outclassed at this point. Also, just save up and buy eyes if you can't drop them. Enraged trident does a lot more over normal, so idk what you mean when you say it does less than a mediocre mobi trait like acheron's gets. It gets 2 extra shields that cover more space, mobi increase from 10 to 25, a trishot for some instagib situations, and some really shitty tentacles(?), but hey, they're there. If anything, the trident abilities themselves need tweaked to make it more worthwhile.
i did not know that it did anything other then the shitty tentacles, but again you said back when you got it, you had no problem getting eyes with just an azuredge, times have changed, everyone who actively does kraken, has a stormforged aug or tommy and a hydra secondary or a sag ccd, it is near impossible to compete without those now, and even then, its left in RNG's hands...
03-20-2020, 01:15 AM (This post was last modified: 03-20-2020, 01:16 AM by Brassx.)
It's arguably easier to get eyes now for the casual person without top DPS than it used to be. You don't need to be #1, you just need to be in the top 12 eye damagers. Then you have a 1/12 chance to get the guaranteed one. 6 eyes will stay. If you don't like the price, then just don't upgrade it. Simple as that. (And clearly based on what you said you were ignorant to what it even did in the first place..)
03-20-2020, 03:40 AM (This post was last modified: 03-20-2020, 03:41 AM by The Black Parade.)
Let me tell you the story about Bizwaold, the man who was eccentric to society.
Deep between valleys of sky scraping mountains, and a snowstorm so cold- so huge... nothing can survive, as if Death himself was watching. That is, one thing was surviving, but not for long. Bizwaold, a banished man from his village, where he was seen as a hero, but why? The man of good stature with the townies and the mayor, but why? Who had no bounds of trust worthiness, but why? No one questioned, no one cared frankly, he was a deity, but one day and one terrible night, they disliked him, they saw something they have never seen... a monster? Maybe, an outcast? Outcast for what? A deceiver? To deceive who? They pecked at Bizwaold with pitchforks, screamed at the top of their lungs like a banshee who as well seen a disgrace. Finally, Bizwaold ran from the angry crowd, through the snow and into the forest. Lightning strikes... storm brewing. Sweat drips from Bizwaold forehead, emotions swirling inside his brain, confusion, anger, anguish, agony... no peace, no mind. He loved the village, he loved the folks, but something has changed, something's wrong. *How can he change them back?* he thought to himself, tripping over the white snow. *What did I do so wrong?* the question whorls in his head. *Maybe it wasn't me?* he gasp for air, running for God knows how long. Bizwaold turns back, the lighting of the village is no longer visible. He is alone- alone- alone. He walks for miles, hours pass by, the snowflakes thicken, the visibility shrinks. Bizwaold looks around and realizes there is no natural shelter, no trees, no caves, just huge mountains and the heavy snow. His body stiffens, his shivering panics, he is cold, becoming dead inside. Something is watching Bizwaold, but it was no beast waiting for a strike against the weak. His husk of a body pushes forward, every step felt like shattering brittle bones. He can no longer feel his fingers, his toes, himself. so tired, so cold, he collapses onto the snow as snowflakes fleet onto him. he curls up as hypothermia engulfs him. His limbs cold and his chest sweating, as the heart makes the final stride to keep him from breathing his final breath. just before he freezes away, black figures approached him. They reach their hands out, hoping Bizwaold will grab one. Having the strength to reach for a hand decides not to, he rather die instead. The figures put down their arms, they realized he is too far from helping. They fade away. Bizwaold life is quickly fading away. All of a sudden he gets a rush of memories. He watches himself argue with the townies. He watches himself bash his head against the authorities. He watches himself spits behind everyone's back. He watches himself beg for more time. There was no time to begin with, he had stayed for far too long and now he must go. Before his final breath another figure stood in front of him, but this time it was himself. His own eyes, hollow, he opened his mouth, oil spewed out. His arms full of scars shed skin. He looked back at his arms, his skin shed, he opened his mouth and coughed up darkness, his eyes evaporate, and his final breath is released.
(03-20-2020, 03:40 AM)The Black Parade Wrote: Let me tell you the story about Bizwaold, the man who was eccentric to society.
Deep between valleys of sky scraping mountains, and a snowstorm so cold- so huge... nothing can survive, as if Death himself was watching. That is, one thing was surviving, but not for long. Bizwaold, a banished man from his village, where he was seen as a hero, but why? The man of good stature with the townies and the mayor, but why? Who had no bounds of trust worthiness, but why? No one questioned, no one cared frankly, he was a deity, but one day and one terrible night, they disliked him, they saw something they have never seen... a monster? Maybe, an outcast? Outcast for what? A deceiver? To deceive who? They pecked at Bizwaold with pitchforks, screamed at the top of their lungs like a banshee who as well seen a disgrace. Finally, Bizwaold ran from the angry crowd, through the snow and into the forest. Lightning strikes... storm brewing. Sweat drips from Bizwaold forehead, emotions swirling inside his brain, confusion, anger, anguish, agony... no peace, no mind. He loved the village, he loved the folks, but something has changed, something's wrong. *How can he change them back?* he thought to himself, tripping over the white snow. *What did I do so wrong?* the question whorls in his head. *Maybe it wasn't me?* he gasp for air, running for God knows how long. Bizwaold turns back, the lighting of the village is no longer visible. He is alone- alone- alone. He walks for miles, hours pass by, the snowflakes thicken, the visibility shrinks. Bizwaold looks around and realizes there is no natural shelter, no trees, no caves, just huge mountains and the heavy snow. His body stiffens, his shivering panics, he is cold, becoming dead inside. Something is watching Bizwaold, but it was no beast waiting for a strike against the weak. His husk of a body pushes forward, every step felt like shattering brittle bones. He can no longer feel his fingers, his toes, himself. so tired, so cold, he collapses onto the snow as snowflakes fleet onto him. he curls up as hypothermia engulfs him. His limbs cold and his chest sweating, as the heart makes the final stride to keep him from breathing his final breath. just before he freezes away, black figures approached him. They reach their hands out, hoping Bizwaold will grab one. Having the strength to reach for a hand decides not to, he rather die instead. The figures put down their arms, they realized he is too far from helping. They fade away. Bizwaold life is quickly fading away. All of a sudden he gets a rush of memories. He watches himself argue with the townies. He watches himself bash his head against the authorities. He watches himself spits behind everyone's back. He watches himself beg for more time. There was no time to begin with, he had stayed for far too long and now he must go. Before his final breath another figure stood in front of him, but this time it was himself. His own eyes, hollow, he opened his mouth, oil spewed out. His arms full of scars shed skin. He looked back at his arms, his skin shed, he opened his mouth and coughed up darkness, his eyes evaporate, and his final breath is released.
(03-20-2020, 03:40 AM)The Black Parade Wrote: Let me tell you the story about Bizwaold, the man who was eccentric to society.
Deep between valleys of sky scraping mountains, and a snowstorm so cold- so huge... nothing can survive, as if Death himself was watching. That is, one thing was surviving, but not for long. Bizwaold, a banished man from his village, where he was seen as a hero, but why? The man of good stature with the townies and the mayor, but why? Who had no bounds of trust worthiness, but why? No one questioned, no one cared frankly, he was a deity, but one day and one terrible night, they disliked him, they saw something they have never seen... a monster? Maybe, an outcast? Outcast for what? A deceiver? To deceive who? They pecked at Bizwaold with pitchforks, screamed at the top of their lungs like a banshee who as well seen a disgrace. Finally, Bizwaold ran from the angry crowd, through the snow and into the forest. Lightning strikes... storm brewing. Sweat drips from Bizwaold forehead, emotions swirling inside his brain, confusion, anger, anguish, agony... no peace, no mind. He loved the village, he loved the folks, but something has changed, something's wrong. *How can he change them back?* he thought to himself, tripping over the white snow. *What did I do so wrong?* the question whorls in his head. *Maybe it wasn't me?* he gasp for air, running for God knows how long. Bizwaold turns back, the lighting of the village is no longer visible. He is alone- alone- alone. He walks for miles, hours pass by, the snowflakes thicken, the visibility shrinks. Bizwaold looks around and realizes there is no natural shelter, no trees, no caves, just huge mountains and the heavy snow. His body stiffens, his shivering panics, he is cold, becoming dead inside. Something is watching Bizwaold, but it was no beast waiting for a strike against the weak. His husk of a body pushes forward, every step felt like shattering brittle bones. He can no longer feel his fingers, his toes, himself. so tired, so cold, he collapses onto the snow as snowflakes fleet onto him. he curls up as hypothermia engulfs him. His limbs cold and his chest sweating, as the heart makes the final stride to keep him from breathing his final breath. just before he freezes away, black figures approached him. They reach their hands out, hoping Bizwaold will grab one. Having the strength to reach for a hand decides not to, he rather die instead. The figures put down their arms, they realized he is too far from helping. They fade away. Bizwaold life is quickly fading away. All of a sudden he gets a rush of memories. He watches himself argue with the townies. He watches himself bash his head against the authorities. He watches himself spits behind everyone's back. He watches himself beg for more time. There was no time to begin with, he had stayed for far too long and now he must go. Before his final breath another figure stood in front of him, but this time it was himself. His own eyes, hollow, he opened his mouth, oil spewed out. His arms full of scars shed skin. He looked back at his arms, his skin shed, he opened his mouth and coughed up darkness, his eyes evaporate, and his final breath is released.
tl;dr: parade is retard
(03-20-2020, 04:56 PM)Terran Wrote: ^ wat
I'm sorry But these words will make sense only to the intelligent.
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