3.34. Legendary

Mature experiences all three of Yogg-Saron's nightmares,
earning "Heroic: In His House He Waits Dreaming",
Ulduar

Business Is Good

The work is never done. Always looking for new recruits. Constantly fielding questions and concerns from those who report to you. The looming threat of competition. Trying to foster an environment free from anxiety and fear. Ensuring that communication is flowing correctly, so that your people are never left in the dark. Striving for new efficiency, new ways to approach old, tired problems. Building a sense of team and camaraderie. All of these tasks on top of your own responsibilities as a member of the group. Keeping your tools sharp. Dividing your time equally between learning and doing. Keeping apprised of the ongoing technological changes in your specialization, and making sure that you remain a leader in that knowledge, rather than succumbing to bad habits. Holding yourself to a higher standard with the thought that by setting an example, those who matter to you will follow your lead.

And then, getting up in six hours for your job.

After over-committing to WoW for the first four years of its existence, I knew things had to change. I needed to not only grab hold of the Grand Ship Descendants of Draenor, and crank it back into the storm, my life had to get some semblance of order as well. Even my vacations had usurped my time to unwind. I needed to get a grip on what was important to me, spend time with friends and family members I had neglected for the sake of epic lewts and first boss kills. That chapter of my life as guild leader was now closed. Last year's vacation spawned a odyssey of commandments that forever changed the structure, the goals, and the meaning of my guild -- one in which I delegated the appropriate management functions to others in charge, others whom I trusted and respected, and whom shared my vision for a better guild. I now treated my guild like a business, and business was good.

Since the restructure involved me eating my own dog food, it stood to reason that I needed to take advantage of the time-off kickback I granted to my Elite. But not just closing up a laptop, and then re-opening it somewhere else -- I'm talking about the kind of time off that warrants full disconnection. The concept of a vacation devoid of any gaming was shamefully bizarre. Think of it. A trip free of frantically setting up a computer on my father's coffee table, filling some spot in a raid because nobody else was available. For the first time in four years, my trip up north would be sans World of Warcraft. I'd earned it. And I needed it.

But first, there was some business to attend to.

With the 25-Man progression team in tow,
Neps completes the quest to craft Val'anyr,
Ulduar

Allergy Season

"Are you going to finish rotations?" the IM window read.

"Negative. Neps is in charge of rotations for the next couple weeks. He has it under control while I get ready for the trip. Take it up with him."

"Got it," he typed back.

"This is essentially the last weekend before my trip. Patch 3.2 lands on Tuesday and that almost always guarantees at least one weekend of chaos with players, add-ons, servers. We need to make a concerted effort to craft that Hammer if we get a 30th fragment Friday night."

"That's what I'm aiming for," Cheeseus replied, "Who's next after Neps?"

"Gunsmokeco."

"Nice, though I still think that the Raid Leader should have priority."

Very funny, Rogue.

"Hey, mace spec is making a comeback!"

"Don't make me pull Kerulak out of retirement."

"At least your shaman can't taunt off of Omaric."

My Achilles heel. With Kerulak, I was always second fiddle to Kadrok. With Zanjina, it was never being able to dominate the meters. And now, having cut over to a tank, my new weak spot was an uncontrollable urge to taunt mobs off of players in my quest to save them from imminent death -- even if it meant pulling off of another tank. It was a nervous twitch, no doubt the result of my spaz style of play.

"Why, you little shit!!"

He typed back his laughter while I squinted my eyes at the IM window, hoping somewhere, some 1500 miles away, a certain rogue raid leader had a thousand curses levied on to his family name.

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. You might have to deal with Prodigie in your raid!"

"Oh, God..no." Cheeseus typed.

"Bheer says to tell you that if Prodigie is going to be filling the 25th spot, he votes to leave the spot empty."

"LOL. How much longer until he's fully replaced?"

"Don't count on it happening anytime soon. As I've stated before, Divine might not be the best player, but he's a Raider, and Raiders fill the void when Elites take time off. It's a very necessary role. We can't have all Elites or all Raiders comprise the roster, as much as you want to be the server-first guild. This is the system. You may hate it, but it's what works for us."

"Oh, I don't hate the system. I just hate him."

Hate is such a dirty word. I prefer the more dignified 'strong allergic reaction to'.

Neps, flanked by the 25-Man progression team,
wields Val'anyr, Hammer of Ancient Kings,
Ulduar

Hammer Time

Friday, July 31st began on time, as always. Having people online thirty minutes prior to the first pull had long since been burned into their brains. The Elites had a reputation to uphold, a title to maintain as was required by Hanzo's law. The Raiders who itched for a spot, even if not rotated in, would be online and messaging officers alerting them of availability in case spots needed to be filled. The summer months made this system truly shine, as more folks were becoming loosey-goosey with their obligations to the raid roster. I no longer took it personally. You had a window of fifteen minutes before we started to fill your spot, and our abundance of players made that a stress-free administrative process. No matter the verdict, we had 25 people ready to go and in the instance by 7:00pm MST, and were already in our vehicles, headed towards Flame Leviathan.

The agenda was to clear as much content as possible, paving the way for a hard-mode kill of Yogg-Saron by Sunday. No special treatment, no fancy hard-modes were on the docket this evening -- at least, none that weren't completely trivial in execution. From Flame Leviathan, we went on to wreck Ignis, Razorscale, XT, the Iron Assembly, Kologarn, Auriaya, Hodir, Thorim, Freya and Mimiron. We swept the floor with these bosses, and not even Prodigie's presence in the raid could cripple that amount of destruction. After looking back at the massive amount of loot that had showered down on to us that evening, one item stood out among the rest: the 30th Fragment of Val'anyr.

Sunday was now officially Hammer Time.

---

"Are they in? Did you craft it?" Cheeseus called out in to Vent.

"Mature has this one. Omaric, you're next." I did the one thing I could do well: Taunt. An Immortal Guardian turned away from Gunsmokeco and headed straight for me. Up went Vampiric Blood.

"Neps!" Cheeseus called again, "Did you get it?"

"Omaric picking up. Taba's next."

"I don't think it worked right," Neps replied. I glaced at Yogg-Saron's health. Approaching 5%.

"Alright, stop. Stop, stop, stop. Wipe it. Let's restart."

A few groans leaked out into Vent.

"Oh, quit your bitching...Jesus!" I replied, "We're doing this for Neps! It's hammer time, for fuck's sake!"

I successfully converted a few of the groans into chuckles as we let the Old God consume us, and moments later we were running back. Soon, we resumed our spots inside the green cloud-filled chamber. I glanced up at the Keepers watching over us. Mimiron was absent. In his absence we moved slower and did less damage, while the attack speed of Yogg's minions was increased -- easily, the most reasonable buff/debuff combo we could afford to leave behind. We were soon into phase two and Yogg-Saron's gaping mouths burst out of the floor while players sped to their positions. Casters knocked out tentacles and closed the distance on their red beams draining sanity, while melee moved in and out of Yogg's mind, dealing with the nightmares of our past, present and future in Azeroth.

Once again, I joined Omaric and Bretthew in our tank rotation for phase three. Keeping our backs turned away from the Old God, we called out who was next to pick up Immortal Guardians, as casters and melee tore the bulbous, seeping flesh from Yogg's horrific body, while hundreds of teeth chomped and chewed in vengeance. The hundred mouths arched backward, and our boss mods lit up with an incoming Deafening Roar. At that instant, Neps flung the Fragments of Val'nyr into the Old God's gaping maw.

"Got it," Neps called out into Vent.

Cheeseus acknowledged. "Alright, boys. Burn him down."

Yogg-Saron screamed out as his health depleted and soon the hundreds hung open, motionless. Neps retrieved his Shattered Fragments of Val'anyr, and the raid raced to the Archivum to be by his side as he completed the quest. The achievement flashed up in guild chat as Neps equipped the legendary mace...the first legendary the guild had seen since Ater's Thunderfury many years before. Cheers and congratulations filled guild chat and Vent. Neps was the bearer of Val'anyr.

Business had been taken care of.

---

The long week in Hudson Bay had drawn to a close. Refreshed and with the kids packed into the backseat safely, I waved goodbye to my Dad, and set out on the 1200 mile drive back to Denver, Colorado. Northern Saskatchewan is a wide-open prairie; a patchwork of farmland alternating between bright yellow canola, and the blue-tipped flax -- a plant that bends to the wind in liquid-like ripples. The illusion is calming and therapeutic. Driving across the Canadian north may seem like an ordeal to some, but after being planted firmly in the chaos of The Mile High City for 9/10ths of the year, for me...it does the job of a masseuse, a confessional, a project manager, and a therapist. I can stare out into open land and think of a million things...or nothing at all.

An hour in, the sun was beginning to glow hot on my left side. I glanced in the rear-view mirror; the kids were both fast asleep in their awkward positions in the backseat. The guild flickered into my mind. Thoughts were of them enjoying the Call of the Crusade content, and getting excited for BlizzCon. At no time did I ever have concern that things spiraled out of control in my absence. In my former years, I lived in fear of competing guilds like Depraved and Pretty Pink Pwnies, poaching from my roster at every turn. Now, with one of the most aggressive, world-first hungry guilds sharing our raiding space, we hadn't lost a single player to Enigma. Apparently, I was doing something right.

At last, I had come to a moment of harmony in both my life and with the guild.

A faint sound caught my attention -- a vibration in the car that I had never heard before. I pressed the mute button on my car stereo and listened further. It seemed to be getting louder. As I leaned in and tried to pinpoint the source of the sound...something bumped my hand.

The stick shift had popped out of fifth gear.

The caffeine of a large coffee pooling in my stomach began to take a hold, and my heart started to pound. I clutched and pushed the shifter back up in a northeasterly direction, attempting to regain fifth gear. A grinding sound screeched out from below the Civic, like a chainsaw attempting to cut through sheet metal. I quickly downshifted into fourth and slowed the car down. The quiet hum of a vibration continued. Growing. I sat upright, gripped the wheel like a predatory reptile I was squeezing the life out of, and glanced down at the odometer.

1,130 miles left.

3.21. Discriminatory Treatment

Neps confirms the evidence with Kerulak,
after they execute a pug clear of 40-Man Naxxramas
during The Burning Crusade.

Innocent By Association

The first time I repeated one of my mother's jokes in front of my wife, I knew there was a problem. I was raised in a small town named Parksville, along the coast of Vancouver Island, but my mother wasn't from there. She had been born in a town called Hudson Bay, in the northern regions of Saskatchewan. She had a conservative, strict family, and although the Holmes' were hard-working and quiet folk, they had a tendency to cling to some age-old biases. And as my mother learned from her environment, I too, absorbed these tendencies, without even giving them a second thought. So, when I sat down to dinner one evening and jokingly remarked:

"I wonder what the poor people are doing now?"

...my wife gave me a look of horror, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment.

I knew there was a problem.

Part of this outdated programming led me to judge others too quickly, my first impressions resonating like a bell whenever it came time to make a decision. It happened time and again in my early days of running DoD, having already made up my mind about a player long after my gut continued to tell me otherwise. I'd ignore my gut, stick to my biased way of thinking...and end up making a bad judgement call. Ater was one of the first to show me this was just an illusion -- we think we think we know people in other groups better than we know ourselves.

What added to the complexity of my mother's lessons was a layer of morals, delivered in Aesop's fashion,  priming me for a certain way of thinking. These lessons, while noble in intent, often came across as black-and-white, good or evil, no gray area to explore. Among these was the familiar "You Are Who You Hang Around With". Run with a group of criminals, Mom reasoned, and you'll soon find that you've become a criminal as well.

This may explain why I grew to loathe the PvP community.

At face value, there was a lot to detest. PvPers made no secret that they felt they were "better than us". Raiding was for sissies and crybabies -- to them, the real skill came in how well you sized up another human being, how fast you turned their weak spots against them in the ring. Bosses were scripted; conversely, other players followed no such programming. PvPers talked a lot of shit, rarely opting to take the high ground when it came to dealing with other people. And why should they? They had their name, their titles and their gear lit up like the Las Vegas strip proving to us that they were true power in WoW. They played by nobody's rules but their own, they relied on nobody to get where they were. No oppressive guild could force a schedule onto them, tell them how to act or behave.

Every time I tried to push those biases aside and tolerate PvPers despite our differences, I'd always get a slap-in-the-face when I flipped between ElitistJerks.com and ArenaJunkies.com, the two online communities dedicated to the discussion of PvE and PvP, respectively. The former was a tightly run ship where only intelligent, thoughtful contributors were allowed. Moderation was swift and harsh to those who couldn't be bothered forming a coherent sentence. As for the latter, it was a cesspool of trolls, rife with profanity, accusation, and immaturity.

One thing has nothing to do with the other.

Neps & Mature in The Crimson Hall,
Icecrown Citadel

Trusting the Gut

When I began to contemplate another 2nd-in-command, I never gave any thought to promote Klocker because he'd hung up his healing hat. Klocker was now exclusively Retribution in our 25-Man progression raid. I needed a healer for a very important reason: Val’anyr, Hammer of Ancient Kings. The legendary mace assembled from fragments put the power of the Titans at the fingertips of the healer that wielded it. But Klocker's days of healing were behind him. He would flip from time-to-time as needed, but it was no longer his passion, and the new edict in Descendants of Draenor demanded players choose what they loved to do, not what we needed them to do. So, rather than make a move to convince Klocker to play a role he didn't enjoy, I looked to someone who embraced the role. Someone who lived, breathed and died healing. Someone who had been healing long after I had hung up Kerulak's hooves, and had no intention of switching -- who knew the ins and outs of the job. More importantly, someone who I could trust and whom made decisions that were aligned with my own. Someone fiercely dedicated and loyal to us.

Someone like Neps.

But, it was Neps’ attachment to PvP that gave me my initial hesitation for promotion. Neps regularly ran with a crew of folks that had traditionally proven to be be unreliable in the long term. They were PvPers in my eyes, that "other group" I was perpetually disgusted with. Somehow, I believed I was an expert judge of them, up on my high horse. Neps had never given me a reason to doubt his reliance, yet the PvP thing continued to bother me. What impact would it have on the raiders? Was there a risk of that "nobody's going to tell me what to do" mentality bleeding back down into the roster? We had filled spots throughout Vanilla and TBC with anything we could get our hands on, and while we benefited from having a large number of players across multiple interests to choose from, when we plucked from the PvP pool, it was a often a crap shoot. And I saw promoting Neps as a very real risk to allow more of that style of player to stick their foot in the raid door, only to cause further mayhem down the road.

The brothers Ouleg and Ben were two players in particular whom Neps spent a great deal of time with. Ouleg, when present, would tear into bosses in Serpentshrine Cavern with extreme prejudice, often dealing more damage than that of our regular raiding Warlocks. But, he was quick to come up with excuses to leave the raid if things looked bleak, “Yeah guys, I think my girlfriend's calling me for something” after our fifth wipe on Hydross the Unstable. Ben wasn't too far off from his brother. A fantastic player behind the wheel of a Shadow Priest or Boomkin...if you could get him to show up. If he wasn't completely drunk off his ass. And while neither Ouleg nor Ben themselves were the ones being considered for promotion, I continually dwelt on this association Neps had with them, and whether or not it would become a distraction.

Or worse.

A Second Opinion

I took Dalans aside and shared my concerns with him, broaching the possibility of promoting Neps as another 2nd-in-command to share duties. I told him of the plan involving Val'anyr, and how it made the most sense to go with Neps, but that I had lingering doubts. Dalans reminded me that Neps had been playing the role of Priest officer for nearly the entirety of The Burning Crusade, and had never shown me any reason to doubt his loyalty thus far. My gut told me he was the guy to go with, but the PvP "facts" continued to rub me the wrong way. When I brought up the concerns I had about the PvP crowd, Dalans was logical in his response.

"Anni was of the best officers this guild ever had. High Warlord, remember?"

He had a point.

"Wasn't Blain one of the first players on the server with a Vengeful Nether Drake in TBC?"

Two points for Dalans.

"I wouldn't worry too much about who he runs with. Neps is fine. I'd trust him before I would any of the other morons. If he hasn't given you any reason to doubt his dedication, he won't."

The second opinion was delivered, saying exactly what my gut was telling me all along. Go with Neps. Forget about the PvP crowd. Who he hangs with and what he chooses to do for fun has nothing to do with the person he is. And if Mom was right, and you truly become the type of person you hang around with...well, that would mean Neps was exactly that person right now.

...and there wasn't a single thing I could point to that would cause me to distrust him.

That evening, I went over the ground rules for 2nd-in-command, and made it clear he'd be the first in line to receive Val'anyr. He graciously accepted the promotion, and the guild joined in a round of congratulations for their favorite Priest on his continued service to DoD.

--

I glanced down toward the chat window in the lower-left hand corner of the screen.

Blain has come online

For a guy who retired from World of Warcraft four months earlier, he showed up an awful a lot. I sent him a tell.

“Hey”

“Sup”

“I’ve gone ahead and restored your administrative privileges to the guild. You won’t need to worry about the raid expectations, nothing’s changed there.”

I popped open the guild panel and clicked the promote button several times.

Blain has been promoted to Old God

"Carry on" I said in another whisper.

He replied with a smiley.

3.18. Know Your Role

Blain shows off his Vengeful Nether Drake,
Shattrath City

The End To Bending

"Why can’t I see the officer forums any more?"

"Because you're not an officer anymore. That should have been easy to figure out."

I waited to see if I'd get some push back; no response. I clarified further.

"It's all or nothing now. If you're an officer, you need to meet the commitments I've listed out."

"I already told you I can't commit to every Friday and Sunday."

"Ok, well...??" I didn't need to finish my sentence. He got it.

"Yeah, but I can still help out."

I took a deep breath.

"Look, part of what I'm doing here with the restructure is trying to nip that double standard in the bud. When Wrath launches in a couple weeks, the new ranks will require officers to be present both nights of the week in raids. You were the one that told me you weren't comfortable committing to that kind of a schedule in Wrath. That's cool. You can retire a free man. But now I need other officers to fill those shoes, and they are committing to that schedule. So, they are the ones that benefit from those perks."

Blain chuckled at what most certainly appeared to him as a sudden overnight change in formality.

"I'm not asking for invite or kick privileges. I just think that I can still give you some advice here and there."

I wanted to bend the rules. But bending is what got me in trouble in the past.

"Hey, I'm all for it, but right now, I don't have a pseudo-officer rank available. And if I go bending the rules for someone, you know how that will come back and bite me in the ass. Someone will bitch about how 'Blain gets special treatment', or they'll whine about how they have to follow the rules but you don't. I've been fighting off double standards for four years, now. I gotta do it right this time."

He took a deep breath in Vent and gave me one of those delayed "alright" responses, the kind that dripped with "you're making a big mistake" undertones. I didn't want to cut Blain out of the officer channels and forums. He had a lot of value to deliver, especially in the raid leadership advice department. But when he told me he was stepping down from the responsibilities of raid leadership at the launch of Wrath, I had to walk-the-walk...which meant full demotion. Officers would be treated no differently than Raiders. As much as it pained me to.

If an opportunity arose where I could slip Blain under-the-radar into leadership legitimately, we'd revisit.

From Class to Role

My initial attempt at rebooting the guild with a new outlook on the game seemed reasonably successful. There were no mass exodus to speak of, no attempt to overthrow me and take over the guild vault. Players seemed content and excited for the next tier of content. There was no sign of the dreaded "grass-is-greener" syndrome which plagued our best players in the past; players who felt their effort and skills went unacknowledged. On the contrary, the best and brightest of my crew were being identified, gaining promotions, seeing more raids -- they were earning prestige and they were proud of what they had accomplished. They were proud to carry themselves as one of the Elite of Descendants of Draenor, and strove to fulfill its duties. I was satisfied that it kept them returning. This was, after all, the long-term goal: Build a solid foundation of reliable, skilled players who were fiercely loyal to raiding and progression. This foundation would support the weight of raiders unable to deliver the same commitment, but still wished to participate and see content. This was the yin and yang that made Descendants of Draenor work; the secret sauce that allowed us to compete with hardcore guilds without encumbering our players with an oppressive schedule.

But there was room for improvement.

Transitioning into Wrath from TBC, we still clung to the age-old Class Officer paradigm first proposed in Vanilla. Each class had its own officer, overseeing the troops that shared the same class designation. In a guild where we had enough players to field two full 40-Man raids per week, there was a huge number of players that had to be managed. The only logical way to accomplish this was to delegate responsibility. And in those days, my officers had officers. But this paradigm had no business in the new world of 25-Man raiding -- our headcount no longer demanded an officer pool of that magnitude. It was time to adjust this way of thinking. When 3.1 launched and everyone's mind was focused on Ulduar and the secrets it kept beneath the storm peaks of Northrend, I went back to the drawing board and pulled the trigger on the decision to move to Role Officers.

The concept of a Role Officer wasn't new to us; we had been running with a Healing Officer throughout Vanilla (Haribo) and The Burning Crusade (Breginna). It was one person whose sole responsibility to keep their group organized. For healers this was essential, especially in the early days of raiding. Very specific assignments had to be made for specific players -- these players would be healing the main tank only, these players here would be responsible for FFA (Free-For-All, healing anyone that needs it). And for Healing assignments, the officer had to be smart enough to know who their team was, what each class's strength or weakness was, and more importantly...which players were stronger than others. My healing officers had a great track record because they knew better than to assign unskilled players to roles of significant importance. The raid leader didn't need to bother with the granular details of the assignments; the healing officer would handle it on their own, making fixes and adjustments as needed. The healers even had their own dedicated channel to discuss assignments and work out their own strategy, without distracting the rest the raid.

It was a clean system that worked well for our Healers. It was now time to make it happen for our Ranged, our Melee, and our Tanks.

Your New Leaders

The first order of business was to tackle the logical promotions. I started with Cheeseus, the new rogue who I'd considered for promotion since the early weeks of Naxxramas. He approached me with my own concerns; we were on the same page. We both agreed that we needed a single unified leader to guide us down the path of efficiency and success. He would become that new raid leader. Next, I had to assign a healing officer. I needed someone I could trust and whom I felt approached the role with a fastidious eye. Unfortunately, my healing officer from The Burning Crusade, Breginna, was no longer available to commit to the schedule I demanded of officers -- every Friday and Sunday, no exceptions. This turned my attention towards Kelden, a reasonably new Shaman to DoD who had proven himself over many Naxxramas runs that he fit the bill. Like Dalans, Kelden also had little patience for ignorance and stupidity -- he wanted healing done a certain way and had no problems telling other players how to do it. Meanwhile, the ranged DPS would continue to be handled by Eacavissi, who had formerly held the title of Warlock officer. When I gave him a list of his newly refined responsibilities, his concern to me was that he knew nothing of Mage, Hunter, Elemental Shaman or Boomkin intricacies. I quelled his fears -- managing the role is less about what the perfect Fire Mage rotation is, and more about ensuring all the Mages know what they must do when the shit hits the fan.

On paper, the new structure was as clear as the Durotar sky: one melee officer, one ranged officer, one healing officer, and one tank officer, all reporting to one raid leader...whom in turn, reported to me. The problem: I didn't have the all the heads I needed to fill those roles...at least, heads that I could trust. Some players were going to have to wear multiple hats. By this time, we were taking two to three tanks per raid, and in multiple discussions, Cheeseus had expressed to me that there was little need beyond that. So, did it make sense to promote someone randomly, just to manage three tanks per week, two of which would be myself and Dalans? It was overkill, so I vetoed a Tank officer promotion. Dalans and I would be more than enough to manage a single additional tank each week. That left me to make a final assignment of melee officer. Nobody in my eyes was quite ready for this promotion yet. And when I brought it up to Cheeseus, he expressed to me that he was far more comfortable spoon feeding players himself than relying on someone he didn't know or couldn't trust. I proposed that the logical solution was to have Cheeseus himself run the melee officer role while leading the broad group at the same time. He concurred.

After the promotions were complete, two previous officers remained jobless. Both players were important to Descendants of Draenor, yet neither had a responsibility in this new structure. How I planned on handling these remaining two would come down to a single deciding factor:

Val'anyr.