I Miss Wards

No, not like I conveniently forget where they are, or fail to notice a neon-pink lightbulb flickering in a bush.

I miss the availability of stealth wards.

The trinket ward is acceptable, it gets the job done, but more often than not I find myself with only one to spare or none at all, and it feels bad knowing I can only drop one to three wards at a time when I could drop an extra if I had the gold to spare. More importantly, I miss the agency of buying my wards. Sure, they could burn a hole in your pocket if you constantly bought them, at which point a sightstone might be a more efficient purchase, but it felt good knowing that if I needed vision somewhere on the map I could get it myself with just a quick trip to the shop. At this point in time, I have found myself looking forlornly at my trinket's cooldown, hoping, praying that it ends quickly so I can step outside the range of my tower secure in the knowledge that any gank coming my way will be seen. Yet no matter how strongly I wish that timer to reach its end faster, it remains a static countdown. That is what bothers me most about the pre-season changes; I am a slave to a timer.

Before, it hardly mattered if some self-righteous support came strolling up the river with their fancy, red sweeper and murdered my poor ward followed by usurping its comfortable position with a ward of their own, because when I backed I would buy three more wards and promptly give them a metaphorical middle finger by destroying that same ward which had the audacity to replace my own and crown my act of spite with a shiny new ward.

I could buy a ward whenever I so desired, once upon a time, and I could complement my wise investment with an oracle lens. Now, I can only have one or the other, and what is worse, I have fewer wards available to me than I ever did.

I felt good helping my support by clearing wards and placing some of my own. I felt safe with a nice blanket of vision to keep an eye on those meddling assassins/juggernauts/fighters. I felt in control.

Now, I feel like I am walking to lane on a wing and a prayer, and my fragile, yet deviously destructive and incredibly well-dressed, life as a giggling tactical nuke is under constant threat from unwelcome guests who lack the common decency to knock before waltzing into my lane and attempting to murder me with an equally uncouth accomplice.

Also, I miss the fearsome clang of dominance that came with dropping a Battlecast ward; now all I get is that hollow, pathetic ring of inadequacy we call a trinket.

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