"Meanwhile, the game watched uncomfortably from the sidelines occasionally shouting, "Hey, there's all these fancy oils you could be using to get this done about point-four percent more efficiently. Maybe you could craft some from the entire Hanging Gardens of Babylon's worth of random herbs and flowers you've got stuffed down your trousers?" "Got any upgrades for the basic healing potion?" I shout back. "Not presently, no," replies the game. "Then I'll stick with mashing quick-attack if it's all the same to you." "Well, if that's your attitude, your sword just broke again, haa-haa-haa." Oh, bloody hell. Rivery Gerald's oaths of fidelity last longer than his fuckin' swords. I think they just stuck a hilt on an unusually long Pringle."