Twas a crew of four aboard the good ship SHARKBAIT. The sea was of the rough chop typical this far SE . All the better to keep us rolling in harmonious tune playing a new shanty. Soon we glass another vessel approaching and the music of our instruments is joined by fellow minstrels.
The seas seem to darken as if from a shadow of the deep. The raucous mood of the moment silenced by a stare. Not from any of us, but from the sea.
Man the cannons! Followed by a volley of blasts to our port. We reload but the beast circles to the stern coming into view again now to starboard. Blasts of cannon fire pierce the behemoth but now it's glowing gaze has us. In an instant with massive jaws open wide it streaks at our ship. I managed one more shot right through seemingly endless rows of ravenous teeth framing a cavernous throat before it was upon me and half of the ship. The tears through my flesh left me in need of recovery so below decks I fled but I found no rest there as the battering the beast dealt to our hull needed immediate attention or all would be lost.
We kept firing, our monstrous foe kept assaulting, our only rests coming when the attention of the devil was focused on the brave sloop battling with us to survive.
Our supplies dwindling and still no sign the demon fish is weakening the crew takes on a sober realization seldom witnessed amongst pirates. Yet pirates we be and we muster on. It isn't long before our brave brethren of the shark hunting sloop are swimming to our ship. The help is greatly appreciated but two more bucket brigaders is not sufficient as we are now without lumber to make hull repairs. Buckets are run in continuous races to stay ahead of the rising water. We can still fire an occasional volley but constant flooding consumes our attention. The megalodon charges again ripping another invitation to Davy Jones locker into the ship. Buckets are now the only option not one less soul working to sustain float will suffice.
We cannot flee, we cannot continue to fight it is an untenable situation.
Now just replace 'crew ' with Rare, 'ship' with the game SOT, 'flooding' with loss of players, 'bailing' with updates and tweaks to gameplay and the 'Beast' with forced cross play. The analogy becomes apparent.
What is that I see on the horizon? Sailing at full billow it is the legendary galleon OPTIONAL CROSS PLAY. The roar of cannon fire restores our vigor. I notice a change in the color of the fish. Another round of blasts turns the creature to nothing more than a nightmarish memory.
