I walked into the light with no trepidation: the crowds had already carried off their heroes, each bearing their trophies and winnings, while I waiting in the dungeon's foyer.
I didn't have the broad shoulders of a conquerer, or the reflexes of the swordsman, or even the precision of the archer. I certainly didn't have the ingrained abilities of any mage. No, I had nothing to set me aside from the crowd, besides the fact that I avoided crowds at all costs.
I was Satis, the Good Enough. (Yes, I know that's repetitive.)
If you look back on those days of Alpha and Beta testing, you won't find me. Nay, even if you fast forward through the primary rush of the initial public release, you will not see me (unless someone steals my name, again).
Who would want to steal this name? All who play want to be the best, the top of the world, all who try dream of being The Best. Except me. I heard the music, knew the tune, and could hum a few bars (though they were hopelessly off key). I'd been there, done that, but had to pay regular price for my t-shirt because the sales had all ended.
I was Satis, the Good Enough, and you'll find me walking out of the dungeon long after the dust has settled, because, after all, who wants dust in their eyes for the long walk home? I mean, come on, let's be realistic here.
What I do is undervalued. I pick up the leavings, after grinding my way through long and arduous passages, too often finding myself being overtaken by someone with stars in their eyes. But I take those common drops, selling them for all the pittiance I can muster, and save every last penny away.
I am Satis, the Good Enough, and I've been waiting long enough to share my story. It's finally my time, not to shine, but to glisten with fond mediocrity.