Bahdgar

Khadgar. Dear, sweet old Khadgar (who’s really not even that old, btw!). The man who has been at the helm of our operations for years now after randomly reappearing in Stormwind telling you to meet him in the Blasted Lands back at the start of WoD.

You were excited when you saw him, weren’t you? If you knew who he was in lore, previous games, events, etc., then you knew you were about to spend time chilling with one of Azeroth’s most iconic figures. You were even more excited to know that he was going to create for you a ring of immeasurable power that you could use to defend your world against the Time/Space Horde.

If you didn’t know who Khadgar was yet because you were still a MoP baby, like me, you wondered who dis old guy in the badass robes was. And, you wondered why everyone seemed to be so excited to see him. But, much like your in-the-know fellow players, his words moved you to action, and you were excited to get that ring.

You followed Khadgar blindly through the portal because he clearly had the means and ideas to save Azeroth. Khadgar was a genius. And you knew that whatever work he asked you to do would be important work. So you played on, and you’ve played on for many years, with perhaps a bit of growing consternation. Which brings us to the present. After so many years spent fighting the Iron Horde and now the return of the

That time you were killing countless demons and Khaddydaddy killed a Legion Lampost. 😀

Legion, you can assume that your character and Khadgar have become close. I mean, he’s nearly killed you at least three times now, and you’ve saved his life at least once (so like, that makes sense, right?). You’ve gone to numerous worlds together, and you’ve saved countless lives. But when was the turning point exactly that made  it OK for Khadgar to be cracking puns at you while he pats you on the head and sends you back out onto the Broken Shore to face down a hurricane of demons on your own? Why… why does he gotta be like that?

Don’t get me wrong, I give a chuckle-groan each time I hear his Dad jokes for the first time. But then, as I’m out there at the same WQ point for the 700th time, and he’s still making the same stupid joke (of course this is obviously just a matter of game writing/mechanics), I sometimes wonder, as I think a lot of us do, just why the hell any of us are putting up with him anymore, and why we don’t suggest he just joins us on our next weekend fishing trip instead.

Titans love you, Khadgar, but you are a menace: an adorable, well-meaning, and seemingly accidentally genius menace. The fact he somehow manages to show up at every major plot point and give his two cents all the while demanding an increasing amount of resources for whatever miraculously viable new scheme he’s recently hatched is actually somewhat unnerving. It’s common enough now, since the first time that he nearly smote Den as he created her ring… that Dadgar treads a very fine line of genius/lucky goofball. If he had agreed to take up the role of Guardian, I believe we actually might  have been able to free ourselves from the threat of the Legion a lot earlier. I can imagine Sargeras coming to Azeroth and and Khaddydaddy just punning him endlessy until the fallen Titan simply gives up and leaves, grumbling to himself about “what is this wicked sorcery” as he returns to the Twisthing Nether (What’s wrong, Sargeras? Something really seems to have you burning up…. If you want to destroy this world, you’ll have to have a much better demon-stration of power…).

But, isn’t this why we all love Khadgar so much? And presumably this is why our heroes keep him around. Surely everyone in our circle has headaches from the eye-rolling he initiates. But I guess there’s that one guy in every party that somehow makes gold from dirt, most of the time without even knowing it. And let’s be real folks, while Medivh was powerful and serious, even if he had not been possessed by Sargeras, I would still be glad to have lived in the age of Khadgar as Guardian rather than he. It’s probably safe to assume that a lovable nut like Bhadgar probably only wants half the baubles and shinies that Medivh would have asked for. I’m willing to trade puns for another 2,000 nethershards any day.

Genius

Flavor of the Month

Just as in real life, trends come and go in WoW. Mounts, toys, glyphs, hunter pets and even classes become the things some one must have or the spec they must master. Usually when it comes to flavor of the month classes/specs, these peak in the weeks/months after theory crafters post dps charts showing which class you should play if you want to make everyone else weep. Because, you know, playing a class you just find fun would be a tragedy. BUT I DIGRESS.

There is a relative loneliness in playing a non-popular class or a class that rounds out the bottom of the meters, or one that people, quite simply put, have shunned (how ya doin’ Survival Hunters?).  There were many times in the past years that I would be the only Shadow Priest I would see running around for days. WoD was, at times, my own little island of what was at that time just simple shadow magic. And, as a noob, that was ok with me. It was always disheartening to have to slog through LFR trying to execute CoP and be viable. It was even worse for a time when I chose to take Auspicious Spirits despite it being not the best choice until late in the expac.

All of that changed when as Legion dropped and people saw the power of Surrender to Madness (a talent I chose not to build toward because of the fact it was doing so well and would inevitably be nerfed, and because, NO, I don’t really want to die every pull. Screw that). But here came the flood of people attempting Spriest. When I’d go to the order hall, I’d imagine Denaise trying to elbow her way up to the mission table as all the other shadow priests crowded around it. Suddenly, everyone knew, or thought they knew, how to play my class. I had to listen to people talk about it as if they’d been playing it for years when in reality they’d simply read Icy-Veins. It was sometimes a point of irritation for me that it took so long to get my hidden appearance (the only one I really like for Xal if I’m honest). But I’d see so many people with it, and feel grumpy wondering how many of them were only playing because it was powerful and fashionable to.

It only took one patch for that to change. Surrender to Madness got slapped down by Blizz and talent choices and stats changed. Suddenly it was work again if you wanted to even be competitive in a raid. And people went back to their hunters, locks, and mages. And I’ve enjoyed the relative isolation once again of only meeting up with an occasional Shadow Priest.

Until the Whispers of the Old Gods started firing up again. We can all tell by now just by looking at our end game content that we are about to start dealing with bigger, badder forces of the void in our next expansion. It’s undeniable as we trounce through void covered meadows and come dangerously close with drawing an alliance with the Ethereals (get down with your badself, Alleria).

As a result, I’ve noticed it again: people firing up the Shadow form on priests. As I’ve been leveling, there has been a priest in every dungeon group. I’m not sure where holy/disc lie in terms of fashionable healers, but I’m sort of convinced that a lot of them are incoming Spriests who have gone heals for faster queues. RIP them when they get to current content and are torn apart by everything they try to fight and realize that Spriest is very difficult to level through.

I am honestly holding my breath to see what this new expansion brings, as a dedicated Shadow Priest, I am just thrilled with the idea that my class could be seeing some massive lore exploration. It’s also disheartening knowing that everyone and their cat will be playing Spriest because of it. I mean… I can’t describe why it’s sad? It just sort of is. I think it comes from a place of knowing that I play my class because I 100% am in love with it and want to excel at it. I will play it until they shut the servers down. And when you suddenly feel as if your class is nothing more than a passing fad, it can just downright make you grumpy and protective. But, I suppose I can’t blame people for wanting to feel closer to the heart of the story we all know and love.

I just ask ya’ll don’t crowd the table next expac when I just want to send out some missions…

Fashionable

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.

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.

So 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.

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.

Denial 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

Spriest Affliction

By now, if you’ve read this blog or know me, you know that playing Shadow Priest is 100% my style and it’s something I’ve stuck by even when I found it painful (see the dark days of CoP dot-weaving [killlmeeeeee], or the drop of Legion when everyone was taking StM). Even when my class has not been the strongest, I’ve stuck by it because it has always just felt fun, and even in the down periods, I’ve known it would bounce back. Over time, I’ve of course become attached to my character as well. But there is something so satisfying about hitting high stacks while in Voidform, or watching your apparitions pepper your enemies like they are a fine T-bone steak. I just find it satisfying.

So, you would think that it would have been easy for me to pick up Warlock, and in particular, Affliction and run with it, having a total blast. I would say in the past couple years or so, I’ve tried to level a warlock no less than ten times. Mostly I’ve tried to do it Horde side because I actually really love the idea of a Gobby Lock. But, I just couldn’t do it. I’d hit level 20, 30, even 40 and my interest would just die.

ZZZzzzzzZZZZzzz

But, now, here in Legion there are class goodies at stake, and while I’m in no rush, I decided it was time to make a go getting Lock out of the way. I made a human one a few months back and would dabble at leveling her every now and then. I set up my bars much like Denaise’s and would dot, dot, dot and then… whatever the channel spell is called, I’d do that (see like… I care so little about it, I don’t even know its name).

Then at whatever level, I took Seed of Corruption and suddenly my dotting wasn’t as intense. So, I would blindly cast that and then channel into trash mobs. On bosses I would do the purple orb thing and summon the Doomguard, dot, channel and win the dps meter. And… you’d again think that must have been nice for me. As a Spriest, while I usually help with trash mobs, I gave up wishing I could be more helpful because, quite frankly, you don’t have time to do much when your whole group is at least Heroic geared… and can dot the whole trash pack with a single spell, or whirlwind, etc. to victory.

Looked it up: it’s Drain Soul

So, why don’t I enjoy Lock? I’m assuming for the opposite reason they tend to not enjoy Spriest: Afflic literally gives me no resources to manage. The game does all the work for you. Even with mana management, all you do is Life Tap, and then channel your poor man’s mindflay until you’re magically back at full health. I mean like, when I Shadow Mend or Disperse? RIP my DPS. Even when it comes to the Harvester’s ability… you kill things or do damage and it stacks and gives you a buff with an instant cast button that it takes seemingly no special effort to keep going. Literally, I have come to believe that Shadow Priest was too difficult for some one at Blizzard, so they made the Warlock. There. I said it.

I imagine Denaise running around like a crazy person, trying to dot all those little fiendlings in the Mage Tower, sweating, panting and near tears trying to even just dot them or slow them. One.by.one. And all Afflic has gotta do is Seed of Corruption. Haha. It’s all I could think about while leveling my lock. And as such, my sort of disinterested boredom at playing an empty Spriest turned into a spark of rage. I will admit it. The more mobs I blew apart while taking no damage because of my pet tanking, or my channeled spell (I swear I will look up the name), the more angry I became. And it wasn’t anger that I was having fun on a class that is so like my own but not. I was angry that it is literally a joke. That Warlocks do probably a third of the work I do and can gobble up every dps in its way on the climb to the top of the meter makes me a living angry gif.

As I’m writing this, I recognize I probably sound a little bitter grapes. And you know what? I’m fine with that. Because I think I have a right to eat them. And I’m sure some hardcore Lock nerds would tell me to just get over it and play Lock, but here’s the thing… I don’t find the class fun, and that’s because it is not a challenge. If you’re a really good Lock, I’m happy for you. I am. But I’m also sort of only mildly impressed. I barely know how to play the class and I obliterate everyone I group with. It feels so icky.

I’ve had lots of people complain to me that Spriest is too hard, it’s too complicated, and it’s weak. And I think almost every Lock I’ve talked to says that they hate Spriest (a lot of us came to the conclusion that you’ll always like one and hate the other depending on which you picked up first). These are all fair points. And I won’t ever claim that I’m some god at Shadow Priest, or that I ever will be. But boy, even when I pull halfway decent numbers and sit among the hunters’ dps, it feels so good. Because you just know that you’ve mastered something in that fight… and it’s something not a lot of people are willing/capable of doing.

That’s to say nothing of the fact that I find the more intricate classes a blast to play. I also enjoy Elemental Shaman at a time when people seem to be flocking to enhance (if they’re playing a Shaman at all). But that’s just it, I guess… give me a class that has me tap, tap, tapping away and I’ll be happy, and maybe just a tad bit green at the ease of other classes’ play styles.

Because it’s really OK. In the end we’ll all serve the Old Gods and you’ll all be Shadow Priests in their service, anyway. ^_^ Enjoy your two button rotation till then, ya’ll.

Timeless Isle: Aptly Named

If you’ve played WoW this week, then you are probably aware this weekend’s event was Mists of Pandaria timewalking. This came in handy as I finished leveling my first dedicated healer to 110. Between timewalking and unsullied tokens, she then went from 776 to 879 in the matter of an evening standing at the bank window.

In amongst opening those Unsullied tokens, there was the time walking though. And, as always, being back in Pandaria dungeons brought about a wave of nostalgia. It is probably because MoP was my first expansion, and the Pandaren my favorite race that I feel so  excited to be back at the Brewery and the Temple (and even on the Wall when the mechanics are horribly bugged and one-shot your entire group. :^) ).

But there is one thing I am betting we can all universally agree upon and that is the actual Timelessness of the Timeless Isle. If you’ve done your timewalking, then you’ve gone out there (or used your trinket to port yourself out, HYPE) to turn in your event quest, or purchase pets, gear, or mogs. And, if you haven’t already done so, allow me to list the reasons why it’s worth it to take a jog around the Isle again for old time’s sake. Because out of all the end game zones that Blizzard has given us since, have any truly given you the same feels?

First, let me get out of the way the fact that we were probably on the Isle for what started to feel like and interminable time. I remember that long after I could hilariously solo an eroded Cliffdweller, I started to feel the impatient itch for new content. We were all ready for WoD… we thought. Somehow, via the passage of time, we started to find Golganarr, the Dread Ship, Leafmender and the Champions of the Flame (Can you say ow?) sort of boring. Most of us had collected a majority (if not all of the toys). And pets were tamed, dropped or caught (except I never got that damn Ruby Elemental… but Chazz did this week when we went out to turn in our quests and take a spin around the block!!!). We, at the time, not knowing what was about to happen to us, thought the Timeless Isle was a prison.

We were wrong. We were so very, very wrong. Because the Timeless Isle was a place where the community, for the most part came together to kill ACTUALLY rare mobs on a timer. The excitement of seeing a Huo announcement in general, and tearing through the Sanctuary with 700 yangoul on your ass in the hopes to just get even a dot put on the rare wind serpent is something that I’ve not had since. The anticipation of looting… maybe you’d get the mount! Or maybe (if you were a noob player like me, or if you were gearing an alt), you’d get a Burden of Eternity and upgrade a piece of equipment that sorely needed it.

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(Click through the slideshow and play Is it Tanaan or Argus?!)

That’s what zones like Tanaan Jungle, and now Argus, lack. Twice now these zones have been touted as WoD and Legion’s  Timeless Isle, but the excitement of and community of racing across a zone to kill a rare together is gone. I won’t lie, I turned off general chat ages ago in the previous expansion because most of what is said there is useless and quite frankly, annoying. But, I did turn it on again for Tanaan in the hopes that people would be working together to kill the massive rares. But… what is with this new rares system? Where they aren’t actually a rare spawn? Where you kill it (and they are only 112, not skull level like the Isle), and it respawns a short time later? Or, in Tanaan where you could purchase an item that would take you to the closest rare, and then we could fly… all these things took away from what I hoped would be a repeat of the community having a laugh together as they joined up to defeat foes.

Instead, Tanaan and now Argus feel just as isolated as questing through any other zone. The unsullied tokens are actually useful now that any armor class can drop and are BOA just like the Timeless tokens. But, there is still another, and perhaps the most vital piece missing: beauty.

Mac’Aree, is, arguably, one of the prettier zones we’ve seen since at least Dreanor’s Shadowmoon Valley. Even in its destruction, the autumn color palette mixed with the lavendars and blues we’ve all come to associate with the architecture of the Naaru create an atmosphere that is pleasing to the eye even while you gallop past gaggles of restless dead souls roaming the area on your way to kill the next technicolor kitty.

But this is just 1/3 of Argus. And you don’t spend all of your time there. The other 2/3s are Tanaan 2.0, but this time things are somehow even more dead, even more lifeless and foreboding. In a weird way, the Petrified Forest, while not beautiful, is eerie in a very satisfying way. It makes you wonder what those stands of ancient dead trees once looked like when the Dreanei hunted in them before Sargeras came and their world ended.

I have barely spent any time on Argus farming rares because quite simply, even with Mac’aree opened, I can’t stand to spend my time running around more fel-barren land. This past week, I actually probably spent more time on the Timeless Isle after I turned in my timewalking quest and went out for a memorial run around with Chazz. We ended up using the crystal and the sprite tree and I Holy Nova-d for the duration, making the hill become something of a sparkling bed of loot. I went to the Isle with just 300 tokens to my name. When he and I had each had our turn at the crystal, I left with close to 8,000. We ran up and hopped over to the Sanctuary (as cloak bearers, we have the great honor of being allowed inside), we killed Ordos in three hits. Chazz, as I mentioned earlier, bought a goblin kit and killed Garnia, finally receiving his ruby droplet pet. After awhile, we  simply stopped and sat on the hills, watching the crag stalkers pounce and the cliffdwellers amble… and looking around like that, you suddenly realize how beautiful and peaceful of a place the Timeless Isle was. It was beautiful EVEN when you were running for your life. It made the scramble to stay alive OK.

Alternatively, despite the quick nod to Outland’s fel reaver, there is nothing else about Argus that elicits fear in me. And even fear of this new fel reaver  is fleeting: his course is short and there are no mobs for you to be so distracted by that the reaver might, in fact, have his way with you. Even more confusing is the fact three of my friends and I pulled it on a dare the first night on Argus and killed it while only needed about one rez a piece… sigh. So fear? no. Annoyance? Yes. Annoyance is at an all time high. The other thing that makes Argus #notmytimeless is the sheer abundance of blood thirsty mobs. There are so many places on the Isle that you could stop to take a breath, or to chat or try out the new toy you got. You could also move easily about the lower portion of it without pulling so many mobs that a knock off your mount was guaranteed. And, even if you did, the community building was so strong on Timeless, that people usually stopped to help you take out what you picked  up.

Now, on Argus, if you move two feet one direction, you’re immediately set upon by mobs that stun, bleed and easily knock you off your mount. Then the pats come and they want a piece of your tail, too. And thing is … it’s not like I’m dying to this. I’m not. I stand around, kill it all without losing much health, and grumpily climb back up on my owl cat. Like… Blizzard… I get it. They’re a LEGION, they are countless and they are everywhere. But they are so annoying. It’s so annoying. I would love to just once run through an area without picking up an entire hooved parade of eredar. Not because I can’t kill them all, but because I just literally don’t have time for that shit. Know why? Because Krokuun and the Wastes are so fucking uninviting that I would rather spend three hours one-shotting rares in your old content instead of  killing a chorus of “hiiiiya”-screaming space demons.

/Enter Voidform

JUST STOP. IT’S ANNOYING. AND I JUST WANT TO GO BACK TO DALARAN AND OPEN MY NEXT CONCORDANCE LEVEL.

/Leave Voidform

 

*angry panting*

I’m fine. >_> I’m cool. It’s cool, I’m fine inside.

We killed it, first night on Argus. 😐

In conclusion, I will say that if I’d not spent so much time on the Isle, and perhaps didn’t know better, I would enjoy Argus as end game content. But the best thing about the Isle was you had your weekly and that was it (Was there a daily? I don’t remember…), and that was it. The much smeared Pandaria dailies did not follow us there, another reason the Isle was a delightful end to our last truly beautiful expansion. Now, I open my Argus map and see those world quests and just… die a little. Not because they are bad, necessarily, but because I know that in order to just get a “rare” at the WQ spot, it’ll take me forever to get there by the sheer fact I’ll have to kill half the planet to get there. But, maybe more people are down with that than are not. And maybe most players don’t want another Timeless… or maybe there are even those out there who actually think it’s too much like the Isle (you’re dead to me :P).

If Blizzard wants to make us another Timeless Isle, they have a long way to go to get back. Give us trees and grass and clear water. Give us actual elite rares that are on actual rare spawn timers, and give us our mounts and toys and mogs off of these, and give us a reason to actually work together to defeat the Legion. Take away the fear of getting dazed off our mounts by the equivalent of gnats, and have that Fel Reaver pop up in places randomly. Or maybe at the spawn points of rares ,while people are in the process of killing it,  have the Reaver fly over and drop in and murder us. Will people like it? Hell no. Will people with Outland PTSD cry? Hell yes. But like… we’d be there for them because Argus has brought us all together as a community again.

Also, can we get some epic music again while you’re at it? ❤

 

Me, and Zelda, and WoW Makes Three!

I’ve been playing WoW since 2013, if I remember correctly. And much like anyone who has any sort of hobby they care deeply about, I don’t much remember my life without it. And in a broader sense, I don’t remember much of my life before video games.

I was once a child. Sigh.

That sounds awful, I’m sure, to some people who have trouble understanding that dropping money on a game or an expansion is no different than dropping money on any other hobby’s needs (a new camera, a new bike, a new movie, a new journal, a new xyz). It’s simply that video games have gotten such a bad rap for so long, it’s not quite been legitimized (even though it’s surely being monetized by those ahead of the curve [see eSports]). I suppose some might argue it’s not a productive or creative hobby, but I would argue that since I started playing, I’ve had more wild imagined stories in my head of fantasy realms than I have in years. I’m once again willing to blog right here about video games, and WoW. It’s given my creativity and writing skills a touchpoint they’ve not had in years.

So, this morning on my drive to work, I contemplated what things were like before I cleared my first game, or opened my first MMO client. Growing up, we never had consoles even though all of our (or maybe just my?) friends did. I had some computer games like Sim City 2000, Sim Ant and Oregon and Yukon Trail. You know; things that were mildly educational (because at the time, yeah, a Sim game didn’t have those racy things that The Sims have given us in recent years).

Get dat queen!

I played through all of them in their entirety. I made countless Maryvilles and Mary Towns that inevitably ended up being swept up in floods, fires and hurricanes. I also defeated red and black colonies of ants. I conquered the house and made the Sim people relinquish their grasp of their property by burrowing up through their kitchen countertops. Yes, I was in their base stealing their food long before it was any kind of meme.

Deep down I longed for a Nintendo or something like it. A Gameboy would have made my life, probably. But, when you’re a kid, you can’t and don’t always get what you want. And I recognize and understand why my parents raised us in that fashion. But there were two things I couldn’t ever wait to do as an adult: get a dog and buy a game console.

The zen of Candystand

Eighteen years went quicker than you think they will when you’re thinking about how slowly it is going. And when I got to college, I was so swept up in trying to survive and get good grades that the most games I ever played were mah jong or card games at old haunts like Shockwave or Candystand. These provided a quick respite between papers. Sometimes when my as yet unrecognized anxiety issues would set in, keeping me in on a Friday night while everyone else went out, I would waste hours singing along to whatever music I liked at the time and matching 3s in puzzle games. I didn’t hate it. And I still don’t think I missed anything by doing that more Fridays than not. I couldn’t wait to graduate and have a home life, and have my dog I’d been waiting for my whole life. But I kind of forgot about getting a gaming system.

Moving in with my husband after I graduated meant moving into a postage stamp apartment that didn’t allow pets. So, I had to put my dog search on immediate hold and instead look for apartments that would allow me to rescue my first pooch. It wasn’t until I had lived with my husband a couple months that I pointed to the purple cube on the old TV cart and said “Is that a Nintendo?” It was, indeed, a Nintendo Cube.

“So you mean like… I could play games on that? Do you have games I could play?”

I remember Kevin being completely confused by my line of questioning. “Yeah, of course. I have a whole bunch of different stuff. Just never have time to play any of them. But you’d probably really like this one…”

And he pulled out Legend of Zelda: Windwaker.

Slashin’ them monsters!

And that was when my whole world changed. Because here is the thing. It was 2006. I was a new college graduate living a half country away from everyone she ever knew up to that point. That country, also, was about to fall into the greatest economic recession it had seen since the 30s. I had to get a shitshow of a full time job checking groceries at a store down the street. I had no friends. And once my 8 hours of work were in for the day, I had a lot of free time.

As such, beating Windwaker took basically not time at all. So I saved toward, bought, and defeated Ocarina of Time. Then I saved toward, bought and burned through Twilight Princess. I got the Zelda commemorative DS and ripped through Phantom Hourglass, and did much the same with Phantom Tracks, Skyward Sword, etc.

Throughout all of this as time went on, I did community theatre, and made friends, started my real adult life despite not being quite sure what that meant. But I found others that played console games and we traded notes on the Zelda series, and talked about tons of other releases, too. Super Mario for the Wii, and then Super Smash Brothers Brawl and Melee all made my a video game enthusiast for life.

And at the time, I didn’t know there was a name for what I  wished Zelda games were: an open world slasher that let me play with other people, but was just unending, that I could explore through, and kill monsters endlessly. I didn’t know that even as I wished for it, WoW was being played by millions, and that this imaginary game in my head was not so imaginary. I knew Warcraft existed, I just didn’t understand what it was.

Champ, the day we got him.

Many years after my initial discovery of Nintendo, and long after having moved and rescued my first dog, Champ, Kevin started playing a scrappy little MMO called Spiral Knights. It took me a little while, but finally, when I realized that he wasn’t going to stop playing it, and when I realized that what exactly the game was, I took the leap and made my first character.

Switching from console to computer was a bit of a learning curve. These days using WASD is something of second nature. When I sit with my hands passively a keyboard anymore, it’s my default positioning, not my usually Mavis Beacon perfection. But after a time I learned how to play on my old Macbook, and I was instantly in love with all. Here was a game where there was no plot line that would lead me to an ending. I could play as long as I liked, and customize my characters, make gear and change appearances.

Spiral Knights action shot.

It was around this time that I moved out of the grocery store to a job that would brutally tear me down, taking away all my free time, pitting me against senior coworkers who did not like me, desire to work with me, nor value me. I worked basically overnight, only to get texts from senior members of staff telling me I was shit at everything I did, regardless of how hard I tried. As my life began to twist and contort, as my feelings of worth dribbled away, it became easier to take refuge in Spiral Knights. After all, my hours were so screwed up, I had no one to hang out with. And if I did try, I was usually too exhausted to do much, or I was so convinced that I wasn’t worth anyone’s time, that I would call it a night early, retreating home to beat myself up over everything I believed was wrong with me.

Me, top right, being the real MVP coming to save Chazz from robots!

But in Spiral Knights I made friends from all around the globe who played during the hours I wasn’t at work or asleep. It’s also where I met Chazz, who had, just a couple years earlier, left WoW behind. He was a computer nerd, and taught me a lot about how to make my own little poop laptop work better. He taught me a lot about what programmers do, what developers see as they make the games I loved. And, he talked very fondly of WoW as if he were an old war veteran. He spoke of his Shadow Priest, Jot. And told me of the time he’d spent just wandering through Blizzard’s seemingly endless landscapes.

It sounded good. So, so good. It sounded like a place to go to get lost, and a way to escape what I saw as an increasingly difficult to handle life. And so, while my job was the worst thing that ever happened to me, I got paid handsomely and it was easy to start my next savings adventure and quickly purchase a Windows laptop. It wasn’t long after that I was making my starter account that was then quickly abandoned to make a real account, fueled by a RAF for Chazz. And we flew off into Azeroth, obsidian night wing and Pandaren, together.

❤ Denaise in Storm Peaks

Of course, Kevin joined us not long after and the rest is history. And, whether I like it or not, whether some people who don’t know me or my life cringe or not, WoW and video games in general have always given me my much needed daily breath of fresh air. I don’t regret a minute of it. I think the friendship I built with Chazz and the relief that being in game has always given me is a good reason I’m still here. Video games aren’t everything, but they certainly made everything so much easier to deal with. And looking back, I barely remember my life without them, and looking forward? Well, I just feel fortunate to even be able to do so.

Friendcraft

It’s safe to assume many of us came to World of Warcraft only after we discovered a deep love of video games. I suppose there might be some out there who picked up WoW one day not really knowing what they were doing and then became appreciative of the gameplay, the graphics, the community, etc. But in the end, no matter what your point of contact was, there is one undeniable truth: Azeroth is a teeming world of real life people who have found that same appreciation you have while roaming the face of our digital planet. And from that shared recognition, bonds are formed. Actual friendships take shape in Azeroth every day.

In my experience, there are several ways you can create them, but the first and foremost is through dungeons and queues. Even if you’re in a guild, you’re only truly going to get to know anyone by playing with them. And the meat and potatoes of the game is how you suddenly discover people who are like minded as you, who play the same way you do and who want to proceed and excel at the same rate as you. Since you’re probably so involved in playing, you don’t quite realize the time you end up spending with some one before suddenly they pop up in your real life as well.

Enter Discord, at least primarily at the moment. While my day is full of the beeps, buzzes and whirrs associated with a modern library, my earbuds are mostly filled with the pings of countless DMs throughout the day from this person or another. Or sometimes it’s a group chat, involving loads of people and you mute the server while you are striving to get something else done. Memes, gifs, youtube videos, Wowhead articles, live feeds… you name it. We all share ideas, laughs and questions with each other in ways I’ve not communicated with people in ages. And over time, as you share and create or share and commiserate together, the dynamic of your relationship changes, and you’re suddenly not just a “guildie”, not just an “online acquaintance” but you’re friends. Real, live friends.

Because, though we hate to admit it, real life does continue on, whether we are within Azeroth or without. And it is always just a matter of time until life takes a swing at you or your buddy. And, maybe you just log in to say that you won’t be around that night, or that you’re not able to raid, but a switch gets flipped and you realize suddenly that the connection that you thought was just laughs and memes is something solid. Because some one 500 miles away asks simply “What is going on?”

Here’s where I think the real difference between your real life relationships and gaming relationships occurs. The great, wide divide of “What’s going on?” There should be a physical canyon named that somewhere in the real world. See, because out there, we have all of our own real junk to deal with. And we have people in real time poking us, pushing us and prodding us. We become consumed with our day-to-day monotonies or heartbreak. And these things are what we call “real” life. And they take place in “real” time. And while we care about what is going on to the person sitting next to us, perhaps, we are so alive in these moments, in our own truths, we rarely check in and simply ask “What’s going on?”

But one thing that has always struck me about pouring my heart out in a DM on a bad day is that the people on the other side of that chat client don’t leave me on “Read”. Maybe it’s because we are out there in the game together, in a place where we take mutual shelter, and so they are capable of putting in the effort to try to fix it. Maybe it’s our own innate knowledge that time and distance keep us from doing much more to help each other through something, that keeps us glued to our keyboards or voice channels trying to come up with solutions. We view our friends we’ve met in-game as a part of our leisure experience. That doesn’t mean they’re expendable, or that they don’t matter. It simply means that they exist soley in a place where we’ve come to relax, and as such, we strive to ensure that they know their presence is valued, we want them to know they’ve made a difference in our lives. And the best way to show that, is to show up when you’re needed.

Our digital lives have come a long way since the random anonymous chat rooms of the late nineties. People are so much more open now to online dating, online relationships and the like. Lord knows many of such relationships began in WoW. Maybe people outside of the community don’t know that, but it’s true. It gives me even more reason to think that with online friendships and relationships, there might be a more solid base to build upon than traditional. Because all you have are each other, your thoughts and your mutual love of video games. Those three things flourish  in remarkable ways and make for what could be life-altering relationships.

Not sure what inspired my friends-based ramblings. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and I’m not feeling so hot with a stuffy head and scratchy throat. This means I’ll spend all time time wrapped in my bed comforter, propped against my desk with just my two hands poking out as Denaise does her dailies, and my alts unlock the Crucible. Yes, I have many hours of game time ahead of me in the next couple days, while I’m under the weather, and honestly? Couldn’t feel much better about it when I think about the friends who will ask “What’s going on?” as they pop into my voice channel.

Who Can You Trust

Argus. Argus, Argus, Argus… (short chuckle). As a noobling, never in a million years did I think we’d be ending Legion dodging puddles of void magic, or be lost in forests of void tentacles while fighting rares on the hollow planet’s zone of Mac’Aree. Of course, I’m sure we all assumed that our day of reckoning was on the way when it came the Old Gods. After all, we have hopped up onto the Legion’s doorstep, and are pushing through the door to crash their party. Sargeras, you would think, is close to being given his due. We are about to defeat our prime enemy (at least as far as we can see right now). And yet, I catch myself wondering about all these forces at work, and how we, the puny mortals fit into the puzzle. And just who can we trust?

Look, my lore knowledge is fledgling at best and I don’t know what to truly expect going forward. But let me tell you my Spriesty Sense is tingling. And it’s not because I’m a total servant to my dagger. Ha ha. No, no no no. No. Look all I’m saying here is something’s not quite right when it comes to these Naaru who seem to have molded Velen into the pawn they need, who flew him away from Argus, taking with him the most promising of the resistance (cause hey, hey, that’s how we’ve got all these Dreanei heroes running around Azeroth). And then they land them on Dreanor, and simply wait for them to be chased by their enemies, and have their primitive new neighbors be brainwashed by Sargeras. Only to bring them ALL to Azeroth in time, where the Legion has already been pushed out once before, where such impressionable beings as Lady Azshara till float about making veiled threats toward ghosts from the shadows.

The Naaru did not seek to save Velen or the Dreanei who resisted the call of the Legion. They sought to control Velen and his most powerful allies. It only begs the question of what the Naaru want. Do they simply want to control us, and our destinies? Do they want the sort of order and control and severe rule that the Citizens of Azeroth struggled to stamp out in the Scarlet Crusade?

Which then begs the question of how much better is it to live one’s life in full service of beings who believe themselves to be your superior, who will bend and break your will for their own designs? How is this a better existence than serving the Void? How is this a less painful release than the Old Gods wreaking havoc across the World Soul’s egg, and coming to commit Titan-icide against Azeroth?

It makes me wonder how Denaise would want things to play out. As surely as she wants her world to survive and thrive, I know that she would feel just as defeated to become a pawn of the Light, and what would the Light or the Naaru do with her anyway? When the Naaru realized that this hero they have been commanding even by way of Velen is indeed a servant of their professed enemy?

Shadow priests in particular seem to be in a significantly awkward placement. Something that Warlocks can surely understand as they and their imps blow up fel constructs and battle the Legion back toward oblivion. In a way, one starts to feel powerful not only because your dagger tells you so, but because you’ve come to realize that you are wielding the magic of the End Game, and will, we should safely assume, be able to turn it against the Void Lords and the Old Gods.

And just what of Xal’atath? This dagger on my hip that, while the all the other Old Gods were defeated or captured, she sits happily in the hand of anyone willing to have her. And she has brought down civilization after civilization, and persists even now into our time, and is at the heart of the conflict. She’s made it to Argus, where the prime enemy of the Old Gods, Sargeras has taken hold of the world soul, we can assume. Everyone tells the Shadow Priest to not heed her whispers, but so far she seems to have a better understanding of the larger forces at work. She feeds her keeper secrets that, as “flesh-afflicted”, the ancient beings have not seen fit to whisper to us.

Could, at the end of the expansion, Xal pop from my side to take on the form of something much more terrifying than we could have imagined before? Having fed on some of the most powerful and angry deaths in her recent history, what would her power be like? And will she remember her Shadow Priest accomplice, and what will her accomplice remember or think? Will Denaise follow her blindly into the Void? Or fight to save Azeroth from the clutches of the Old Gods, and the Void Lords, and perhaps even Xal’atath herself? After all, we all are, in a way, the children of the Old Gods (being flesh-afflicted and all), and will they care for us in a way that the Titans refused to on so many other worlds that they destroyed upon hearing that a world soul had been corrupted?

In the end, as Chazz pointed out while we discussed possible avenues we might go down, Algalon himself gave us another chance because he realized that our capacity for free will, rather than blind obedience to the will of the Titans, was a strength rather than a flaw. And while…. And that while this corruption of flesh and free will is not to the Titans’ liking, it doesn’t mean that we were not worth breathing in the air we live in. It wouldn’t mean that Azeroth, though perhaps “corrupted” could not still  be a being of beauty and richness.  We all get tired of Rhonin’s Dalaran declaration, and we all turn our sound down as we pass through Northrend’s floating city. But within his speech, there is a kernel of what Blizzard wants us to know about being a hero: that choosing the path that we know is the correct and righteous one, regardless of what others try to convince us of, will always lead to freedom, and it will save us from the desolate road of blinded faith in anything.

I personally believe that in the end, we’ll be beholden to no one and trust in no true higher power. And when Az (as I call Azeroth in my head, much like I call Xal’atath just Xal) wakes up, I’m betting she will feel beholden to no one too. But she’s gonna love the crap out of us for keeping her safe.

Legion has built us up as Paragons to our classes, and those we are surrounded by have given us their trust. But when you look up at the stars in the Storm Peaks, or Argus catches your eye over Ironforge… don’t you find yourself wondering just whom you  should trust?

 

 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Denaise 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.

It 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.

It’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.

In 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.