Smores over Felfire

My history with WoW is spotted at best. I started by myself, then got bored and quit. I rejoined with some friends of mine I met in Japan, then quit again. Finally, and most recently, I rejoined with a few of my college friends and have been playing ever since.

It started fairly easily as we all were on at the same time, were were in the same city (mostly) and had the same timetable/real-life requirements (class, occasional food breaks, study time, etc). After school, we all went our separate ways for work, but kept on playing together online. And things were good.

Then came Kara and ZA.

We still raided predominantly at the same time, with the occasional “I can’t make it” from friends, but we had a guild of great people, so it was easy for us to sub someone else in.

Then came Wrath.

With the latest expansion, we started having serious fractures in scheduling. Our once-pristine group of 5 players had grown to 7, but over the months following wrath’s release several of them have sporadic schedules (at best). As such, I can’t really use them consistently without falling prey to out-and-out favoritism (which will kill a guild faster than you can say “Unfair! LoL!”) as they occasionally show up an hour or two late for a raid… and we’ve already started.

I have a handful of people I knew outside of the game first, a few I’ve met since I started playing, a bunch I know as guildmates, and a few dozen extras who would love a spot to raid. How do you figure our who gets the other 9 spots?

I’ve found that the best way to deal with it is treat it much like a business. Pull in the people that are consistent, competent, and willing to push themselves just a bit. If you happen to be pulling in all your real-life friends in the process, great, but chances are you won’t. Because of that, you’ll probably have to deal with a few snarky in-game whispers, an angry call, or some variation thereof. At that point, you could have all the best reasons ever conceived as to why you didn’t pick them to go, but it isn’t going to matter because THEY aren’t raiding NOW because of YOU. An alternative plan is to show them how they CAN start raiding with you (show up on time, work on DPS/heals/mitigation, etc) or, better yet, how they can use their in-game connections, friends, and guildmates to start a new raid. Empowering your friends to make their own decisions is a great way to get them off your back and back into the game.

You will, however, still have to deal with them whining for the short-term and while they do so I would suggest reminding them of one, simple, crucial concept: this is a game. You do not get paid for this. This is not worth a real-life friendship over. And honestly, if they pull the “I can’t believe you would do this to me! I’m your friend” card, ask yourself this: Would a friend ask you to bend your rules (and possibly your integrity) in order to make them happy?

You all know someone like this. They get a Shaman up to level 76, but stop short of the final push to 80 because “they just lost interest” and all of a sudden warriors look a lot more interesting. They have a slew of low-to-mid-level characters, but only one 80 (if that) that is of any real use to the guild. Altoholism is troubling when it happens to a friend, but can it be turned around to an advantage?

There’s a familiar, and overused, phrase that says something about walking a mile in someone’s shoes in order to understand why they do what they do. The same can be applied to WoW. I know I understood the plight of the tank and healers a lot better when I actually made one and leveled them up to the then-cap of 70. I actually caught myself swearing at a warlock for pulling threat a few times (before I saw the blinding irony). Similarly, when I was healing, I had to just ignore my instincts and let a few noobs die because “they could handle an elite with just a few heals,” meaning I was supposed to keep 3 tanks up (only one was wearing plate) instead of just the one.

Honestly, I think it would behoove a lot of guild leaders to pick up an alt and start rolling through Azeroth as something other than their preferred role (tank/heals/dps). The relationship dps has with tanks and healers are often one-sided (“They throw heals my way when I get hurt. If they don’t, they suck. LOL) and often jaded (It’s the DPS’s fault for pulling threat, I’m not going to blow half my mana bar just to keep 1.5k dps alive). It’s a lot harder to yell at someone (legitimately) when you know what they have to do to keep a group (or raid) alive.

Furthermore, if you can convince a few other guildies to go along with it, you can grab a 5-man team of lowbie alts and level them together through instances. Playing a healing priest to the current guildmaster’s tanking pally was a lot of fun… mostly because we both knew what was expected of us and were constantly pulling/egging each other on. Wipes were rare (because we knew each other’s preferences) and exp was plentiful (due to the 30 minute instance runs we blitzed through), so we had leveled two new then-70s in about 1.5 months and grabbed a generous amount of knowledge as to the inner workings of the healing/tanking classes.

The departure from the norm actually helps your preferred-role as well. It’s a lot like going to a foreign country: you don’t know what is “normal” there, so the stuff you took for granted as “normal” is challenged. When you get back to your home country, your worldview has been altered so that the glass of water you grabbed at a restruant isn’t “hey, it’s water” but “hey, they actually put ice in there! That’s different from when I went to Europe!” The more well-rounded you are as a raid/guild lead, the better you will be able to manage those online misfits you call guildmates.

The single most frustrating thing for a player to see is the “connecting” screen hanging for several minutes after they’ve put in their username and password. It’s annoying for several reasons, the foremost being the fact that they are likely to have to powercycle their modem, router, computer, house, and neighborhood in order to get back on the game. But stepping back from the game itself for a moment, let’s examine the connection.

The Internet’s primary function was to connect computers for the exchange of information and while WoW is technically an exchange of 1’s and 0’s that happens to be translated into explosions and large numbers on the screen and thus still remains information, it is of a different sort than scientific research, military tactics, etc. Regardless, I would say that WoW has, gradually, brought us back to the original function of the ‘net: information exchange.

The PTR has maybe two hours of true wonder to it where everyone is legitimately experiencing the content for the first time. After that: it’s quickly thrown on Wowwiki, wowhead, mmo-champion, wowjustu, guildprogress, and dozens of other sites. In vanilla WoW there were only a handful of credible sites related to the game (and most of the information there was solely for raiding) there are now more websites than the normal players can ever hope to utilize.

I believe this is the primary reason why people claim raiding is “too easy” now. Granted, the devs have made the end-game content much more accessible (which means it must be easier), but mis-information is the #1 killer of raids, so when everyone knows that the boss is going to be ice-blocking 5 people in the raid every 30 seconds, we, the players, are able to adjust to that and work it into our strategies. This is one reason, I believe, that fights are becoming more and more complicated as the game grows older. Devs assume that there will be thousands of people crafting in-depth theories of attack for each boss, so having 8 different attacks over 3 phases for 10 bosses is plausible. The Watchers in Ulduar are all great examples of this as each have distinct phases of attacks whereas in Molten Core Ragnaros has very little outside of “OMG need Fire Resistance!!!”

Overall, I think that this will only escalate into more and more complex fights as having random spikes in damage (like the crushing blows) are going the way of the dodo due to massive QQage from the players. And rightfully so I would say (having something that players cannot guard against is just poor form in my opinion). This will, of course, make the end-game content much more difficult initially (before the encounters are nerfed), but I think a little extra work on the front end would be worth the study-time, especially if, say, WoW were to work in a feat-of-strength for killing a boss within 2 weeks of release (hint hint).

My name is Lord Hairen Thistlesworth XXIV, and I am a marksman.

I’ve spent years of my life stalking, lurking, preying on my…um… prey… regardless of their form or place on the food chain. I’ve spent hours on optimizing my form for capturing silithids, weeks on trapping undead, months on eluding Devilsaurs and years on domesticating attack squirrels.

Don’t look at me like that, attack squirrels are almost as deadly as devilsaurs in a high enough volume.

But this, this is my most dangerous and elusive prey: humans.

Oh, it’s easy enough to kill a human. An arrow in the eye, a crossbow bolt in the heart, there are a number of ways for us, the keldorei, to kill these creatures.

But to capture… or simply track… oh that is a different game altogether.

“Come Reginald, the hunt awaits us.”

My translucent and loyal feline companion gulped down the rest of the redgill given to her moments before and faded (even more) from view, signaling to me that she was ready for the hunt. We both strode confidently into Stormwind City eyes ever darting, feet light, and noses carefully discerning the common scents of the city and the smell of our prey.

This is, of course, harder as we don’t know what he smells like.

Or where he frequents.

Or what his thoughts are on attack squirrels.

Regardless, I approached the first guard within eyesight and showed him the sketch of the target that my employer procured. It’s so odd that I’ve been paid hundreds of gold for someone so… frail-looking. But a job is a job, and Reginald has a refined palette for fish. The guard rolled his eyes and pointed toward the trade district, saying something about how “I wasn’t the first to ask about him today.”

My eyes narrowed. Clever… why hire one person when you can hire hundreds for no cost? The bounty is only available to the best of the hunters.

And unfortunately for them, I’m the best.

The next few hours were fairly boring I’m afraid, setting up traps, snares, and triggers that won’t… um… trigger… unless I require it to is dull and tedious work. Needless to say, after several hours I finally set up my contingencies and had simply to wait for the first sign of my prey.

Day passed into night, night into the dawn, I had slept lightly and little, but this meant nothing to a marksman such as I. For I am Hairen… future Lord of the Thistlesworth house… General of the Thistlesworth squirrel army.

Damn it all, stop laughing!

Around noon the 2nd day, I heard a great deal of commotion coming from the east side of the trade district. I quickly roused myself to see what the trouble was. Bearing down on me, Reginald, and the other patrons of Stormwind rode no less than thirty – no, forty – alliance rabble-rousers, all screaming at each other and striking those in their own formation. I smiled and leaped atop the auctioneers’ structure, ready to begin my orchestra of disarmament.

Arrow notched and waiting, I waited for the first to cross the threshold of the Stormwind bank.

Loose!

A well hidden trigger fires, sending layers of frost and water cascading out of the nearby fountain. The rabble is shocked and begin to fracture from within, some screaming the Horde were invading the city.

Loose!

Small fires leap from the wet cobblestone, resulting in a smokescreen none pass through… err.. maybe a steamscreen… is that right?

Regardless! Those who traverse the… obstacle… are met only with panicked animals and collisions with similarly foolhardy miscreants. My initial trappery complete I deftly leap off my vantage point and sprint into the archway leading from the trade district to the cathedral sector. I recall my “competition” saying something about the church being a prime hiding ground for this creature, so I planned to wait there.

Before leaving, however, I placed another trap, one that I know my “colleagues” would never anticipate. The box chittered quietly as I placed it on the ground. Smiling, I continued on my way to my destination, knowing the horrors that await those behind me will-

Moments later, Reginald began to growl quietly and slowly become more visible as her killer instincts pulled against her covert training. I followed her gaze to find:

My flaxen-haired prey.

I was given strict orders to incapacitate and not kill, but time was short as he began to grow closer, not even paying attention to the ghostly cat and myself.

So be it. He had his chance.

Two arrows were fired: one shot at a high vector, so I would have plenty of time to prepare, notch, and aim the second, which was shot directly at the foot of the prey. He nearly walked right into it, the daft fool, as the second shot buried itself into the road. He looked… confused… not fearful or angry, simply miffed that the arrow had appeared at his feet. He began to pull it out of the ground, mustering what little strength his minuscule body could produce.

But it was too late.

The first of the two arrows, the arcing shot, landed exactly one foot to the boy’s right and it’s frozen payload deployed. The boy, now shocked, immobile,  and terrified began to scream for help.

Foolish human, there is no hope for you now.

With the speed of a pack of plainstriders, I rushed toward my target. Too busy with the ice at his feet, he didn’t notice me until I was already upon him.

“And now… child… it is time for your ‘payment’ as per my orders.” I drew a small, clinking sack, closed via drawstring, and threw it at the boy. He yelped, hands around his face in a crude self-defense stance.

Which left the payload, the precious cargo latched carelessly on his belt, wide open.

Reginald and I were gone in half a minute after, safely in Dalaran city via the magics of the hearthstone system. I awaited my contact at the garden in the center of the city.

“We have done well today Reginald… it is only a matter of time now.” I said quietly, sitting down on one of the conveniently-placed benches.

As if cued by my statement, another of my kind, though a follower of the light and not the hunt, approached me and sat down next to me, a bag of gold at her feet.

“Did’ja get it?”

“Of course.”

The bag was lightly tapped over to me. My cloak parted to reveal a small, terrified, and -admittedly – cute white kitten.

“Were you followed?” My employer asked.

“Of course not.” I replied slinging the gold over my shoulder. “Lil’ Timmy didn’t even know what had hit him.”

Tyrogen began humming again shortly after walking into the forest. His sword was already out and shield hanging from his arm, well secured, but not at the ready. I stood roughly 5 feet behind him and watched the trail behind, knowing that wolves, in a desperate situation like this, would likely swarm us when they felt their homes being threatened.

“So… you’re a mage right?” Tyrogen abruptly questioned, apparently thrown off by the silence of the woods around us. “Fire from your fingertips, Ice from your mouth, and lightning from your arse?”

“Not quite. I’m a warlock.” I said, waiting for the inevitable comeback.

“S’the same thing.” Tyrogen replied. “Like how a paladin is just a warrior like me who isn’t strong enough to fight on his own… he needs the light for backup.” Tyrogen smiled a little his own joke and, likely, was thinking about how to fight the light itself.

“Warlocks, priests, and mages are vastly different disciplines, with priests and warlocks being the most alike.” I shot back. Tyrogen glanced back at me, confusion clearly etched on his face. “Let me explain: A mage’s power springs from his mind while warlocks and priests are from another source. The more learned a mage is, the more powerful they become. Conversely, the stronger a priest or warlock’s willpower grows, the better they can channel their magics. When a mage attempts a spell or technique that they do not fully understand, they explode.” I shook my head sadly, “It’s not a pretty sight, but it’s by far the most merciful of the ways spell casters go.”

“That’s the most merciful way a caster goes?” Tyrogen repeated incredulously.

“Quite. When a priest attempts something outside of their realm of ability, it simply doesn’t happen.” I paused, letting that sink in. “Think about it Tyrogen: If your whole life has been devoted to the light and all of a sudden you’ve been told in the middle of a battle or other trial that your faith was not strong enough, what would that do to you? If you are lucky, you come out of whatever trial you’re in alive, re-think your motives, and move on with only the memories of those you failed to haunt you. If you’re not so lucky, you’re last thoughts are that of abandonment by your faith right before you’re cut down where you stand.” I carefully stepped over a well-picked-over corpse left by the wolves., “Unfortunate, but not the worst.”

“Let me guess: Warlocks have it worst.” Tyrogen rolled his eyes and continued his slow march forward.

“You sound like you’re already convinced I’m biased.” Tyrogen said nothing as he cut through a nearby bush. “Let me make something clear for you: For both the mage and the priest, if they failed utterly in their tasks, they would both die. That’s it. When a warlock over-extends himself, they lose themselves utterly. They still live, breath, eat, and sleep, but they are merely watching their body do these things, utterly helpless to challenge whatever has possessed them.

“Wait… what?” Tyrogen whipped around, sword down, but clearly ready to strike. “You’re saying you’re possessed?”

“No friend, I’m merely saying that because of my… profession, I’m at risk of being possessed should my fel ambitions overtake my willpower.” I could feel his uncertainty slowing in growth, but not abating. “Let me explain: a mage looks outward to study and refinement of his understanding to increase their powers. A warlock must fortify their will, their soul, in order to pull more complex and powerful techniques from the fel powers that be. Some warlocks, including myself, take the slow and steady path to power, which keep us safe from the dangers of possession, corruption, and spiritual death. Unfortunately, for every one of us who play it safe, two choose the easier path… leading to their own demise.” The air became damper, the sweet scent of decay began to grow stronger into a stench of death as we approached to wolves’ den. “And that is why so many warlocks are ‘evil’ in Azeroth. Because they lack the restraint of a true fel-weaver.”

I could have explained the nuances of my trade further, but Tyrogen wasn’t listening any more, he had already tuned me out in anticipation of the battle to come, totally forgetting his anxiety and uncertainty. Sword at the ready and shield held aloft, he began a slow jog out of the woods into the clearing ahead.

Then the slow job became a brisk run.

Then a sprint.

I smiled, knowing we had the upper hand as the stench of those who had come before us masked our approach. The wolves would be surprised and it would take them a few moments to recuperate.

I think it’s time Tyrogen saw that I’m not just another fireball flinging madman. I thought, hands wreathed in a darkness that seemed to consume ambient light. But something a little more… terrifying.