Looking For Group

Legion is the first expansion in which I’ve pushed myself to play at a higher level than I ever have. This is thanks mostly to joining a guild that was founded on the principle of being open, helpful and accepting of all play styles and capabilities. But for a long time, WoW was just me and and a couple other running about in the darkness, shying away from those just beyond the light of our amusement, for fear we’d be gobbled up by those in the core of the community that would deem us not worthy. Overall, even while I’m safely ensconced in the the little group of people I now play with, I know there is a shitstorm of community out there, doing its best to impose some sort of weird caste system on our game. It disheartens me, but also gets me thinking.

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Right now, Denaise is pushing 930 ilvl (sure not bleeding edge score, but still). I’m also pretty close to H Tos 9/9. I’m not about to call myself the best player in Wow. And I’m not about to claim I deserve any special treatment. But, even while I’m not running through mythic, I know and understand my own capabilities quite well. I know that I’ve watched a million videos on ToS on Heroic difficulty, I’ve read notes people have posted, I have researched bugs and strats, and I have pushed myself to gain the best understanding of fights I will have to learn to call in real time. I recognize that my raid leading comes from a place of theory. And that’s simply because until I got my KJ AotC recently, no one was going to pick me up for a pug Heroic. Because our game is filled with people who think they quite simply can’t be bothered with people they feel must be inferior. Even while I was trying to pug a normal ToS on a 911 alt the other day, I got denied because I didn’t have a “high enough” item level. And, I know that I’m not the only one who has observed this problem. We all know it’s a problem. But what really gets my own personal goat and makes it so much worse for me is the fact that when I do finally get into pugs, I know the fights better than 2/3’s of the people in there, simply because I have to know them that well. But I have no way of providing proof without being picked up to go.

DEv4FfiXcAAEwHP.jpgSo really, what is the truth behind the denials that are so swift in coming to us as we try to pug in LFG? I’ll tell it to you flat out: it’s not really about wanting to push through a quick run for AP, it’s about the power and thrill that comes with deeming yourself better than another even while, in all likelihood this is not the case. The power of being able to deny some one something they deserve and have worked for so hard and maybe just haven’t had the resources or time to get into their clutches yet…. that must be some sick kind of cocaine for people. It’s frustrating. And, the thing of it is that I’m not all that bad off myself. I have the strings to get through the content I want to see, but it’s my own choice to not pull them. If I have, it’s only because I’ve felt I’m at a point where I need to see something in order to help others.

And I feel the need to help when I can because of the fact I might be a little bit better off in terms of what I have access to in game. I don’t take for granted how lucky I am that I’ve found a safe place to flourish while so much of the community seems to be eating itself, still, in a sort of jealousy-fueled fury. Thing is about humans? We only get what we give. That is… some of the harshest or sweetest reality depending on how you choose to exist. When Chazz and I run pugs, we don’t much worry about “quick” runs or demonstrated skill. Item level means literally nothing anymore (seriously, take it from a Spriest who has at least three pieces 935 gear in her bags but can’t use them because she’ll lose haste…. ha ha ha ahadjfklaskdfjdkadlfkajfksdlafkdjf WHYYYYY). What I’m trying to say is, people tend to do better in the long run when you’re open to letting them make mistakes, or willing to let them try a harder thing they never thought they’d becapable of. If some one did their first ToS pug with me and learned something, or saw that they could actually do  the content without being denied outright? That’s one more person who might be empowered to keep pushing themselves. I know it worked for me.

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Alternatively, destroying the confidence of fellow players, or being vicious and snotty goes on to create more little monsters who enjoy headgames and can’t wait to pay the negativity forward. If you’re one of those people who have screamed at some one after being removed from a group, you’re part of the problem here. You’ve been treated one way, and now you think it’s acceptable. Or maybe you just want to lash out. Or maybe you think that pushing your weight around will gain you some kind of terrified respect. Quite the opposite. You’re in a pug. None of us care about what you think of us or yourself. We’re there, just like you, to push through, get our stuff and learn, maybe, even. Don’t make it any harder than it has to be.

DKnHMFdW4AIbJGi.jpgDenial is a potent factor in WoW. It can sometimes fuck up your whole day in game. If it’s happened to you (and it probably has), I’m truly sorry. But there are those of us out there who just want to have fun, get some loot and push ourselves in a disciplined way without having to resort to cussing some one out. You can always find me at Denaise-Cenarius. I’m about as chill as it gets, and I’ll never deny you time of day depending on the energy you put out.

Deny

Pirate Day…Or Not

I didn’t get to Pirate Day in-game yesterday like I wanted to. This is mostly due to the fact that I work until four (and had a sort of frustrating day, as work can be sometimes), there was an invasion that an alt needed to be run through, there was a run I desperately wanted to take to blow off some steam, eating dinner was also a good idea, and there were also people who needed and wanted to chill out and talk through their days or lives with me. And then there was a raid to be lead.

So, all in all, I don’t regret not getting to go. Still had a nice evening doing the million other things I had to get done. I woke up feeling awful this morning. I ended up staying up late after raid, pulling my latest alt through the introductory Stormheim quests in an effort to feel… something; as a mindless task to complete as I struggled with some serious self-doubt that reared its ugly head.  As a result, I have a touch of sinister headache this morning. Sitting in front of a computer is pretty much the last thing I want to do, but my job these days doesn’t afford me much leeway. So I have the brightness burning at just 1 bar, and the darkness of it sort of swallows my mood.

And maybe it’s the lack of sleep and the threat of a very, very bad headache or even migraine that makes me wish I could just go home, and curl up in bed. But I think it’s the anxiety… the weird trickle of depression through my life that tells me that staying upright is pointless, and I would feel so much better if I just would languish in bed. But like, you know what, Brain? Wouldn’t we all just be happier wrapped up in bed forgetting each other?

Sometimes, I have this out-of-body view of myself where I simultaneously wonder how I can find myself to be essentially the least important person in a room, when in the same space of self-evaluation, I recognize that people frequently turn to me when they have something going on.  I’ve been that person for a lot of people my whole life, and maybe I’ve come to take that for granted. Maybe I’m just having a hiccup because I can’t quite excel at the other things I wish to, yet. But, I at least still managed to rouse myself from bed. And that’s a good thing.

DEMHp-yXgAAKtNT.jpgI guess my overall point here is that I had planned on talking about Pirate Day in game in my post today and how much fun I had, but instead my mind is playing tricks on me. And I just want anyone who reads this to know that sometimes things don’t go as you planned, and sometimes your efforts feel futile, and sometimes you just plain suck the fun out of your own life in one way or another. But that doesn’t make you any less important. And it doesn’t make you any of the horrible things you might try to convince yourself you are. So, don’t feel bad that you maybe didn’t make it to your own Pirate Day, because wether or not you believe it in that space of time, you ended up making a difference somewhere else.

Ahead of the Curve: Raid Leading

As I stated in my post from yesterday, joining my current guild and becoming an officer was one of the most gratifying experiences I’ve had in a very long time. This is coming from some one who is working on putting her life and self-worth back together after many years of being torn down by others and herself.

What also came along with the success in the guild, and in raiding, and even as an officer was a desire to become something even just a bit more. Our learning raid was phenomenal, and we had made so many good friends there. There were other incredible players who didn’t attend L2R, but were highly skilled and asked me frequently if I would consider starting a raid that wasn’t a learning raid.

This was a very quizzical question to put to some one like me; who only had one full-raid experience under her belt and who had yet to kill Elisande or Gul’Dan in the Nighthold on normal. I could feel the itch… but I still had trouble helping myself. The thought that people would ask me to put together a raid… this came mostly from the fact I was an officer. And while I wanted the guild to thrive and be successful, I knew my limitations as an individual, still.

I talked things over with Chazz. I told him I would be willing to try to raid lead a normal group, but I was scared of pretty much everyone that I didn’t know; that if I was going to do it, it would have to be for just the people I could trust to give me the space to learn how to do it, and people I felt were my friends. I warred with myself for a couple weeks. A certain sense of loyalty to what we had been doing in our L2R battled against the idea of us striking out on our own to try to get a bit further than we had been. But, my ideal was that we would go on, defeat bosses we couldn’t previously and go back in to help others kill the bosses.

I made up my mind and assembled our team. I took notes on who could do what nights and chose two evenings that worked best for everyone. And the first night we went in together, we cleared up through Tych with nothing but one-shots. This doesn’t sound incredible maybe. But for me it was. It was my first time calling any fights, really. And while we all were quite used to Nighthold at this point, I still made myself do the calls I barely knew how to anticipate myself. And the glee was palpable with each success we had.

It was glorious for all of us, and terrifying for me. Suddenly we had to kill Gul’Dan. This was something I had never done before. With some brief explanation of the few members who had pugged the kill, we set our boat back into the water and pushed out into the unknown. Imagine the elation when we beat him. The sheer joy of toppling the final boss… by ourselves.

And this was just normal.

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Having killed Auger Hogger

I don’t remember who really kept pushing me to take us to Heroic. But we tried one time to kill Skorpyron and got murdered. A few weeks later, we tried again and one-shot him. And then went on to one-shot the Anomoly. Trilliax gave us some issues, but, after a few solid tries, we killed him. Before I knew it, we were pushing up through to Tych and Elisande.

Each step of the way, my unsure voice haphazardly made squeaks of calls and warnings for the raid. Together we set up plans and tactics. We brought in a couple old friends from the guild who showed us how to kill Spellblade and while it took us awhile, we got her, too.

Chazz and I got our AOTC by a friend who let us come along with their guild’s run so that I could see the Elisande and Gul’Dan fights. I wasn’t ready to raid lead those encounters blind. I studied hard and knew what to expect. And much to my surprise and delight I kept myself alive through the entirety of the entire thing, even while much more skilled players bit the dust around me. I was one of only four or five players still left standing at 1% on Gul’Dan and it was satisfying to hit Shadow Word: Death up until the very moment the old warlock gave up the fight.

But that’s not the real story of my first AOTC. Because while my achievement log showed it as completed after that night, it meant nothing until our team accomplished it together. And our team was there. Right there. Staring at Gul’Dan with flasks, food, and pots in hand.

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Denaise goes splat in some Elisande puddles.

And he destroyed us. Night after night. As Tomb of Sargeras drew ever nearer to opening, Gul’Dan did indeed indulge himself a bit and finish us. We died to fel bonds, we died to fire, we died to Eyes of Gul’Dan. We died, and died, and died some more. One night, nearly hoarse from doing the calls, I thought maybe it was a comp problem, and dipped out, reducing his health. I lay on my living room floor, listening to Kevin in case there was that sound of blessed triumph. And they had a 1% pull.

It was then it started dawning on us… this group of bedraggled learn-to-raiders… were we fully enchanted? Fully gemmed… embarrassingly we were not. But we would be the next day. We added another day into our schedule with nothing but the sheer desire to kill that green shit-head to fuel us. We had done raid locks and skips… we were exhausted and time was running out. So far out.

But now, fully prepared, and with me back at the helm we popped up into the Nightspire and took our usual places. We were in the week before ToS and the pressure was on. I had even laid awake some nights wondering how in the hell I’d gotten us this far, and if I’d be able to push us through to get this achievement. I hated Gul’Dan so much, but I believed in us, and I knew that deep down we all believed in each other. Once more we held up our artifacts and “hugged the bubble” as we pushed into phase two, this time without needing a single battle rez.

I called every fel bond, every Hand of Gul’dan and we silenced him quickly and easily. We were right there… it was so close. We entered phase three cleanly. Melee bobbed and weaved with their flames, ranged were courteous and mindful passing each other. Souls were soaked and before we knew it, Khadgar was telling Gul’Dan that Azeroth was our world, not the Legion’s. Gul’Dan wavered.

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Got him good. 

The moment when Gul’dan fell and the cinematic played, I’m not sure I’ll ever forget. I had to take my headset off because our team fell into shouts and screams and celebration. Our lone Windwalker Monk who had to go heals for the night, said into chat “Is it bad I’m super emotional right now?” Ironically, I managed to choke out “No, of course not.” Because I was tearing up myself. Some one played “We Are the Champions” in Discord.

We had managed to do it. We had pulled ourselves forward with minimum help and achieved our first ATOC together. I couldn’t sleep that night, but for a much different reason than the weeks leading up to it… hearing the elation in everyone’s celebration still ringing in my head. And the knowledge that somehow I’d had even a little the tiniest bit of responsibility for us getting there was something richer than I’d tasted in years.

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Artist’s rendition of our raid team by our Windwalker, Belong (FollyKnight) at  https://follyknight.deviantart.com/art/Ahead-of-The-Curve-701546116

It was good fuel to propel me into Youtube and Wowhead, getting ready for Tomb. And even now that we are knee deep into that raid, and there’s still a long way to go for our scrappy little team, even on our most roadblocked nights, I remember those triumphant screams. There will not be any sweeter victory, I’m sure, than my first AOTC.

 

Leading From Behind

CtCiF5nUsAEHxMP.jpgDenaise and I had humble beginnings as character and player, only entering game in the twilight of Mists of Pandaria. She and I were further hindered by real life anxieties that threatened to crush my mind and destroy my will faster than any Mind Blast or Mind Flay my little Pandaren Shadow Priest could deal her enemy.

The WoW community can be a rough one, and is very unforgiving, even toward, and maybe especially toward its newest members. This is probably why I find myself admonishing others when they jump on some one in a dungeon who has clearly just started, geared in whites and greens simply trying to scrape up enough gold to buy a new weapon from a city vendor.

I knew that playing WoW would lead me to meet some people I would have been better off never having met, and as such, for a very long while, my friend Chazz, and my spouse Kevin, and I kept to ourselves up through the end of Warlords. My anxiety over cruel people and overzealous players kept me from stepping beyond the walls of LFR even as I wanted so badly to raid at higher levels of difficulty.

Enter the FriendshipMoose movement at the end of WoD heading into Legion. As a result of this movement, a guild was formed in the spirit of community building and friendship. And so, with promises of friendliness, opportunities at learning to raid and a heart full of excitement that only a true nerd can understand, I transferred servers to join it, taking with me Chazz and Kevin.

We fit in well among a certain set of our guildmates that were also in the Learn to Raid. We did so well under the guidance of our team leader, Deplete, that we managed to clear Emerald Nightmare on normal and go on to kill some heroic bosses. We even squeezed in Ahead of the Curve: Xavius the night before the next patch wiped it away (with the help of a couple ringers).

I learned a great deal in a few weeks’ time. And the best part about it was the lack of e-peen, and the calm, clear, level-headedness of our raid lead. I learned from every one of my mistakes, and I managed to pull pretty great DPS despite the fact I refused to use a talent build that would have me die at the end of each of my boss pulls. Unlike hardcore progression teams, I was free to play how and what I wanted. And Denaise and I flourished.

The guild ran into some snags, as guilds will do. We lost our guild leader, we were without solid, constantly present leadership and the guild lost all of its top-tier raiders. Chazz and I lamented the fact that green chat had gone silent even as more and more people were still paying money to transfer servers and join us. The calendar was empty except L2Rs. And, in my unwillingness to give up on what I felt like was me coming out of a deep, dark shell, I asked to make a guild event.

I was of course allowed, and things began to get rolling from there. Chazz and I spent time leading such things as Mythic + events, and Failhard events that allowed people to group up and try to learn a spec together (the tank becomes the heals, the heals become the DPS and the DPS learn to taunt). We had a great time and suddenly we had a bunch of friends. It wasn’t even noticeable that we were pretty much adrift, anymore. We rallied around each event together and laughed till we cried at the dumb things we’d do and say.

C6H_9KeXMAA7HPl.jpgIt wasn’t until the dead of winter, with Nighthold about halfway done, that I suddenly realized my game chat was filled with more whispers than trade chat. Whispers from people asking me for everything and anything. Could I help with this or that mythic? Could I tell them where to find such and such? When would the next event be? What was the item level required for the learning raids? Could I help them learn Shadow Priest? Could we have an earlier learning raid? Could we talk about this thing that happened at work today that upset them? It was to the point where I almost needed a secretary, and in a way, a lot of the time, Chazz became that.

We were rewarded for our hard work, and both he and I were eventually made officers. And that felt wonderful. And maybe it wasn’t until that exact moment when I realized something about myself: I had broken out of a cell I’d put myself in for years. And I’m not talking about “Group Finder Scares Me” cell, because even that was just a symptom of my true imprisonment.

In real life, I had spent many years working for and with people who, whether they meant to or not, ripped me to shreds emotionally and made me believe I was worthless, and unproductive and stupid. No one really seemed to genuinely like me, and when I did think some one did, then I usually ended up hearing through a grapevine that so-and-so said such-and-such about me. For a long time, I believed every single word of it. And I was convinced with every fiber of my being that I was not worthy for most human interaction. I had allowed myself to be hollowed out and I carried everyone else’s shortcomings as my own. I was about as broken as one could be.

And maybe that’s why I told Chazz I wanted to try WoW to begin with. I wanted to escape what life had to offer me (which seemed to be nothing but shit). But as I got more invested, I wanted to excel and be good at my class. And, I did do that to the extent that time, my internet connection and poor computer would let me. But now, I suddenly found myself bandaging my deepest of wounds with a video game.

Being a guild officer became incredibly important to me. We had so many people who had similar life experiences to what I had, and who simply wanted to play the game with people wouldn’t treat them in the same way. And, while we bonded on those levels, and others, an old part of me awoke again. This teeny tiny broken soul of a leader suddenly burst from slumber, and with a lack of anything else to feel empowered from, she clung to the guild, and took hold of something greater than herself for the first time in ages.

C6mtZGUWgAIJZsy.jpgIt’s been at times the most exhausting and frustrating journey (that has also been productive) that I’ve had in ages. Sometimes, now that I have a new job, with a much lower key level of stress, I feel like my real job exists in Azeroth helping to run our now stable and solid guild. Everyone likes to roll their eyes and laugh about a person who would put “guild master” or “raid lead” on their resume as hobbies or even leadership experience. But let me tell you, being in charge of some one’s leisure time tends to be just as stressful as telling my work study student to put a laptop up to charge for the twenty-seventh time in a day.

That’s to say nothing of the fact that when you find yourself in a position of leadership, and are kind enough, people come to you with their problems and worries of any sort. Anyone who has held a team up knows these types of confessions go hand in hand if you’re doing your work correctly. It’s interesting in a way, because though I could say I found a way out of my own prison, there is a massive group of people helping pull me out of it, still. That’s what being a leader is: being willing to let people depend on you, and being willing to believe in them while they believe in you.  For a long time, I didn’t think I was worthy of any such thing. But, that has changed so dramatically.

C8DEEPMVUAIRmUj.jpgIn so many ways, the Legion expansion is about our characters coming into their own and learning to lead in a focused and productive way. Furthermore, it is about learning to trust your instincts and your gut feelings when it comes to what is right. It’s a hard path to walk, and there are many who will jeer at you from the sidelines as you pass by.

Will and do I still screw up? Of course. Does everyone like me and do they need to? Absolutely not.

But I’ll take my 10,000 screw ups over the dark night of isolation any day.