3.44. Bullet Points and Lies

What Their Body Language is Telling You
Source: 9gag.com

The Read

When you sit across the table from someone, leafing through their resume, you're trained to pay attention to the cues that are present. The stranger staring back at you is now more than just a name and some impressive typography printed on fancy paper. When their credentials first hit your desk, the best you can hope for is to look beyond the literal content and examine the little things like their choice of fonts, how they've decided to prioritize their education or their experience. If their name is enormous in the header, are they demonstrating a mastery of Microsoft Word or are they overcompensating for a deficiency in their confidence? Do they describe their work history as a series of things they've done or ways they've made their former companies successful? When you look them straight in the eyes, it's much easier to read the nervousness, the constant uncomfortable shuffling; the body language of folded arms shielding them from the onslaught of incoming questions. When they're in the room with you, it's a little bit easier to tell if they mean what they say, or if the resume you hold in your hands is just a series of bullet points and lies.

But if you never get them in a room, it becomes more of a Herculean task to get a good read.

There aren't so many cues when you run a guild. You don't get the luxury of a professionally written resume, and there is no table to sit them at; all the body language is absent from the equation. Without these cues to help bolster your ability to read their true intent, you're left with what floats to the surface: their actions, their measurable contributions, and if they treat both stranger and friend alike -- the kinds of things you might consider when judging a person's integrity. If the person is genuine, it is a simple task to walk your list and scratch check marks next to the ones demonstrated by candidate X. But when a person has another agenda in mind, the items you check off your list become their strategy. The key is determining what parts of their behavior are just for show, and digging through the dirt to reveal their actual motivations.

I know this strategy because I've employed it myself. I've changed my own line of questioning to suit an agenda I felt my interviewees wanted to fulfill, and it may very well have been the deciding factor in gaining The Final Cut back in Vanilla; my last real opportunity to leapfrog into 40-Man raiding. When I began to ask about how they would handle fixed schedules, strict start times, the administration of DKP...it all added up to the same underlying theme: we're a casual guild that has the professional approach of the hardcore. In actuality, we hadn't pulled off a single, successful raid by that point. But it was enough for them to take a gamble on us, thankfully, and it paid off in dividends.

I was closing in on my decision regarding who to go with for melee officer. I had conferred with Neps and Dalans, rounded the candidate pool down to two options, and attempted to wrap my arms around who was more aligned with the best intentions of the guild. For Descendants of Draenor to continue down its current path of success, leadership had to be just right, and I was becoming hyper-vigilant at scrutinizing my decision-making process. Mistakes of the past coupled with recent events made this a choice that I couldn't gloss over.

It was time to sit both Jungard and Crasian down and determine who was going to be the best fit for my next melee officer position. I wanted their perception of things. In my mind, listening to them explain how they saw events unfolding would paint a clearer picture of who I was considering. This, in my mind, would be the best opportunity to get a read of the candidates. And when I stepped into the interviews, I prepared myself for the same treatment I dished out to The Final Cut years before. If players were prepared to tell me what I wanted to hear, how would I be able to cut through their bullshit?

I did this by asking them their opinion of each other.

---

"So, which do you like more right now?"

"I dunno, I really like the idea about armor pen at the moment, and Blood is pulling some sick numbers but you really need the gear for it. Having to re-gem everything across the board like that? Doesn't seem very practical. I mean, I like to change it up a bit, and I can pretty much do that now if I want to flip between Frost or Unholy. Strength is strength, y'know?"

"Yup."

"I'll probably give it a go at some point but right now I'm getting the numbers I need from Unholy. The rotation gets a bit dull but it's doing more than Frost at the moment, so I probably won't change it up anytime soon."

"You don't mind losing Frost's burst?"

"Well, there are ways around that. It's just a lot of Death Knights aren't paying attention. Y'know? I mean everyone seems to have a DK but that doesn't mean they know what's going on. Simple things like spreading diseases before dropping a DnD on the twin valks. Most DKs could give a shit. It's pretty common knowledge. But instead they have to resort to exploits and pulling the valks into the doorway, or whatever. Sad."

"Crasian, let's change the subject quickly. What's your opinion on Jungard?"

"Ho, boy. Jungard? Um, he's a good guy, I guess...I can't say I really know too much about him, y'know? I mean, like...we've run some stuff together. He's offered to help out on a few fillers in the Eh Team runs, so we've brought him along for those. But I know he's helping his brother run Starflex throughout the week, so other the 25...I don't get much of an opportunity to hang out."

"Do you think Jungard's competent enough to lead the melee team in 25?"

"Oh, no doubt. No doubt at all. Yah, he's sharp, he knows his stuff."

I waited to see if Crasian would offer anything else up in Jungard's favor.

"So...how's the decision on Shadowmourne coming along?"

And just like that, the discussion shifted to more important things.

"Still deciding. I'm getting close. Just a few more loose ends to tie up."

"Sweet! Yeah, let me know how it goes!"

I went into Crasian's interview with a hunch. His responses confirmed where my head was at.

"Yogg-Saron"
Artwork by Dan Scott

Insane in the Brain

Omaric and Bretthew made it clear to the 25-Man progression team that in order to execute One Light, the keeper we would have to leave alive was Thorim. By phase three, we'd already be stretched thin by moving slower, taking more damage, and receiving less heals. We'd probably be down a few folks as they lost their minds to the gaze of Yogg-Saron. All of these hindrances would add up to a drawn-out phase three; we'd need every last ounce of help during the final burn. That meant Thorim had to help us kill those Guardians. So it was decreed. During our clear toward Yogg, Omaric and Bretthew directed players to talk to Mimiron, Hodir, and Freya, removing their protective gaze from the Antechamber.

Omaric's primary tactic was, first and foremost, for players to get a handle on managing their sanity. Many of the progression raiders voiced their opinions in this department on the forums. Jungard, Crasian, Mangetsu -- folks passionate about their play and determined on being focused towards the win, shared their thoughts on the DoD boards. Omaric remained resolute in his stance: by reducing the various mistakes players could make throughout the course of phase one and two, the raid would ultimately transition into phase three with a healthy abundance of sanity. Without Freya's sanity wells as a crutch, players would have no choice but to perform with a high degree of precision. This essential tactic had far reaching effects in our One Light attempts for the duration of the raid that Friday evening.

When we returned to the instance Sunday, rested and ready to dig back in, it was as if we had never left. Each pull got a little cleaner. Transitions from phase one to phase two got a little quicker -- Bretthew expedited each attempt by purposefully walking into clouds in phase one, artificially spawning more Guardians than the default -- their subsequent deaths eating away at Sara's illusion in greater haste. Meanwhile, phase two continued to receive the spit polish. Jungard helped direct our melee in the nightmare, reminding folks to face away from the skulls as they dug their way through each dream sequence, eventually exposing Yogg's brainstem. As the attempts continued on into the evening, we closed the gap from three nightmare cycles to two. If we could burn the brainstem hard enough during those two cycles, we'd have enough sane people alive to deliver the true death to Yogg and transition the Old God to phase three.

At 9:18pm, the dual raid leaders made the call to melee: Get out now. This is it. We're pushing into phase three.

DoD defeats Yogg-Saron under the sole watch of Thorim,
earning "One Light in the Darkness (25 Player)",
Ulduar

One Light

With my back to the Old God, I resumed my role, calling out in Vent which tank was getting the next Guardian. Omaric and Bretthew did the same. Players continued to catch a peek of Yogg's horrific face and their sanity bled away. Another guardian spawned in the chaos, too close to pick it up. With maximum health, the Guardian was at its greatest strength. It turned to Sixfold, killing him instantly. The tanks fell back into our rotation. Crasian and Jungard hammered away at Yogg along with the rest of melee, risking their own sanity in the process. Turtleman came up snake eyes in the luck department and his sanity melted away. Bretthew called out to kill him, and the raid converged, blowing the undead Mage apart. More succumbed to Yogg: Abrinis, then Sir Klocker. Crasian focused on the kill as the last bits of his own mind were stripped away; the raid soon turned to kill him as well. Yogg's health continued to drop. Jungard held his faculties for a few additional moments, slashing his dual two-handed weapons into the hundred gaping mouths. Finally, he joined the list of the damned, killed by the raid amid his own insane ravings. In the last remaining percentage of health, Bretthew, Omaric and I could barely keep ourselves alive with the weight of the Guardians continuing to press down on us.

And then...brilliance.

Our screens lit up with a double dose of achievement spam. Both "Two Lights in the Darkness" and "One Light in the Darkness" had proc'd side-by-side, the result of our urgency to complete Glory. Cheers and screams filled Vent as we picked ourselves up and distributed loot. The reality of how close we were set in. Only one meta remained. Adrenaline pumped through our veins and we felt unstoppable. With forty minutes remaining in the evening, we celebrated our accomplishment by taking the raid back to Obsidian Sanctum and executing a three-drake kill for old times sake. This produced a Twilight Drake flying mount for Omaric in the process. It was well-earned and well-deserved. I took a moment to address the raid before they disbanded and headed out for the night.

"I just wanted to thank you all for the hard work everyone's been putting in on Glory. We're just about there, gang. Make sure you hit the forums and do that research on Firefighter. While I have everyone's attention, I have an announcement: I've come to a decision on the guild's next next melee officer. Most of you probably saw this coming, as the guy contributes so much to the guild and progression, that he's practically an honorary officer by this point. So it's time to make it official. Everyone, please join me in congratulating Jungard."

Again, the Ventrilo server erupted -- this time with congratulations and cheers for DoD's newest officer. A random voice piped up as the cheering subsided, "So does this mean Jungard's getting the ol' legendary axe first?"

"No," I replied, "I am."

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.

3.31. The Descent Into Madness

Descendants of Draenor defeats Yogg-Saron,
earning "Heroic: The Secrets of Ulduar",
Ulduar

By Omission

I laid the situation out on the forums for Dalans and Neps to ponder. Who would be the most appropriate replacement for Kelden? Options were limited to either Sixfold, Arterea or Gunsmokeco. Sixfold was an excellent healer, both in PvE and PvP, and had consistently rocked the meters in both Ulduar and my obscenity-laced arenas. But there was a concern that he cared little for management. I got the vibe from Six, much like I did with Larada, that he was here to play a game and have fun, not chase after children that needed their asses wiped and their snotty noses blown. Arterea also demonstrated prowess in the duality of raiding and player-killing. After taking Ekasra's spot in The Eh Team, his recent claim to fame was a reworking of the healing strategy for hard-mode Vezax -- a strategy we'd reuse in the 25-Man. Sadly, Art's schedule was all over the board. He'd approached me for Elite, but was concerned that his school schedule would wreak havoc on his in-game hours. Sadly, the best-and-brightest also had to maintain the online hours necessary to survey and mediate on my behalf. This turned my attention to Gunsmokeco, the prime candidate, and best suited for the task.

Guns, like Kelden before him, was very good at doing things his own way. For as far back as I can remember, Guns was one of the first PvE Shamans in DoD that ran with no add-ons. For him, it was the default UI or bust. I'd experienced resistance from officers in the past; Annihilation famously shit on the concept when he held the Warrior officer title. It was always his balls we were breaking when it came time to bring up the subject. He made no secret about his hatred of modding the UI, so it was out in the open and common knowledge to all. I let it slide with Annihilation because he was just that good. Expert players like him do exist in WoW; so finely attuned to the game's minutia that add-ons simply encumber their performance, shifting the signal-to-noise ratio far to the extreme.

It is my humble opinion that this is the exception far more than it is the rule.

Far too many players gave me grief on running add-ons, claiming they weren't necessary, only to turn around make horrible mistakes, act like amateurs, then throw their arms up in denial, blaming something else for their shitty performance. With Gunsmokeco, I wasn't concerned. He delivered top performance with every raid he set foot into -- a trait which helped play a role in his recruitment into The Eh Team. So I was fine with Guns letting the use of add-ons fall to the wayside.

What I wasn't fine with was his approach.

Unlike Annihilation's outward, public stance on his disgust with add-ons, Guns would simply choose to keep that info to himself. I made it clear, public knowledge what mods were to be loaded, and expected the best and brightest to lead by example. Only after running oRA2 or DBM version checks would the truth come seeping out -- he hadn't loaded any. In the face of the report, it was "Sorry, forgot", and no big deal -- case closed. Until the next time. Then, I'd have to remind him to turn them back on all over again. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or were you just not paying attention?

Players that are skilled enough to run without add-ons -- especially healers -- can't perform at the top of their game without paying attention. The only other option left my gut screaming red flag after I pressed the promotion button.

After all...it was no big deal. Case closed. Right?

Mature and the 25-Man Progression Team
stand before a defeated Yogg-Saron,
Ulduar

Yogg-Saron

It was a picture of what had been, what is, and what was to come. Maneuvering through tentacles while the four Keepers kept watch on us from the balcony. Faceless Horrors leapt out of murky greenish clouds as I scrambled to gain control of them, lest they turn and begin killing raiders made of softer material. Cheeseus called out to the groups going into the mind of Yogg-Saron, pulling visions apart by their fabric, turning away from the nightmarish skulls that used every opportunity to sap each player's sanity. With these visions driven back into the recesses of Yogg's mind, the raiders poured their damage into the ganglia below the Old God's brainstem. Meanwhile, I waited outside, doing what I could to deal with tentacles, spinning my camera away in preparation to avoid gazing into the mouth of madness.

Each attempt that got us to the final phase was an exercise in Tank Endurance. Juggling between myself, Omaric, and Bretthew, we struggled to stay alive as the faceless ones continued to spawn, moving quickly towards our casters and healers. They struck the hardest when they first spawned; it was imperative we gained control as quickly as possible. One-shotting our highest damage dealers or strongest healers would turn the final phase into a bleak game of attrition, watching the nightmare slowly unfold as we were overrun. Meanwhile, panic-stricken players lost sight of their sanity, staring blindly at Yogg-Saron like deer in the headlights while they focused on damage. In a hypnotic trance they turned upon one other, cutting into the flesh of fellow raiders rather than the real enemy. The tanks and I held on to our calls.

"Mature picking up. Omaric next."

Then Omaric.

"Omaric has this, Taba, you're next."

Then Bretthew.

"I got it, I got it. Mature, you're next."

We continued on, trying to call out which tank was next on which taunt, who would be responsible for turning the faceless horrors toward us, praying that we had one last cooldown to blow to stay alive. DPS worked through the final bit of health remaining on the Old God -- averting our gaze from the hundred mouths, desperate to sink their teeth in.

We awoke.

The nightmare ended.

Heroic: The Descent into Madness was finished.

On the evening of June 14th, 2009, the fifth weekend of work on Yogg-Saron, with only one person dead, Descendants of Draenor slew the Old God in his lair. Far beneath Ulduar, his mad whisperings were silenced, and he bled out into the Saronite earth. It was a proud day to finally wrap up Ulduar and stand with the guild in the final kill-shot, but our work had only just begun. For this new design of raiding in Wrath meant that we were only through normal modes, bosses slain in their most simplistic manifestations. The true forms of the bosses had yet to be revealed, challenges that would await in bizarre new abilities, or executions under duress. The forms we'd witnessed thus far were meant only for the broad masses of raiders in Wrath, folks wishing only to experience the encounters, but lacking the dedication and focus necessary to clear raids with a degree of difficulty more reminiscent to the early days of WoW.

The kind of stuff we had cut our teeth on.

Grandma is not on Fire

Our priorities quickly shifted to what remained of these "hard-modes". Some we completed by accident, the pleasant side-effect of running a tight ship by default: encounters are completed as they should be. Others we chipped away at as the initial weeks passed by, growing in experience, augmented by the stats of newly acquired armor and weaponry. Yet for all the progress we made and achievements that spammed guild chat, three months had passed and nerfs continued to flow in, a subtle reminder that Blizzard's end-goal was to get more folks to raid. More folks to raid.

More folks to raid.

Our pool was rock solid, comprising a healthy balance of both Raiders and Elites, all itching to chisel away at what remained for Heroic: Glory of the Ulduar Raider. They coveted that Iron-Bound Proto Drake, and did whatever they could to claw up to an Elite rank, solidifying their spot in the roster. My hesitance lingered. I didn't want to disrupt that balance of Raider-to-Elite; both were needed and neither could dominate an entire role. This hesitancy, coupled with the looming Summer months, began to manifest in hefty cancellations on our signup sheet. But these cancellations weren't emergencies like "Grandma is on Fire". I mean cancelling for reasons that should have been scheduled around.

One weekend it would be:

"Birthday weekend, be busy all weekend."

Understandable, I'm sure, though I usually only need one day to celebrate a birthday. After becoming so caught up in WoW activities as to forget my own, time off around the event seemed perfectly reasonable. But then the very next weekend,

"Family Gathering."

And the weekend after that:

"Vacation."

Each week I read the excuses reasons people gave to step out, I wondered if they really did want a shot at the Proto-Drake, or were just happy to have us carry them through on our backs. But what could I do? This was the setup, after all. Raiders would flow in and out as needed, and I would rotate in whomever was left. I expected that from Raiders. Besides, the Elites and Officers would be the rock that I'd lean on when Raiders wished for too much freedom.

Yet the players that were one step away from Elite were playing a very touchy game of cat-and-mouse with me when it came to cancellations. They didn't have the rank, so pushed it to the limit -- taking off as much time as they could squeeze out of me, because they could. But they always had very good reasons to legitimize their time away...

...reasons that just happened to come right off of my "Emergencies" forum topic.

3.28. Playing The "Game"

DoD defeats Flame Leviathan with two of the four
towers up, earning "Heroic: Orbital Devastation",
Ulduar

The Opposite of Winning

"Just got off the phone with the mechanic", I typed to Cheeseus, "Apparently it is some sort of gear that got worn down. Honda’s replacing the part but the entire transmission has to be rebuilt."

"Ugh" appeared in my Pidgin chat window a few moments later.

"Hey. No harm, no foul. They pick up the tab, I’m just glad that we caught this sooner rather than later. I have a rental to get me around in the meantime."

"How was the vac?"

"Fucking phenomenal. It felt like a two-weeker. And it looks like you got some work accomplished while I was gone, eh? That’s great to see."

Cheeseus was less than enthusiastic, "Eh, not much imo. Eighteen-thousand Runed Orbs dropped. Yogg to 13%."

I focused in on the positive, "I understand we have two more Fragments."

"That too," he replied, "but we should have downed Yogg."

We had only been at it for several weeks, having trounced General Vezax on Mother's Day. After racing through Ulduar on cruise-control, it didn't surprise me to discover we'd hit a few speed-bumps near the end. Thinking back to the many weekends we poured into bosses like Kael'thas, Lady Vashj, Nefarian, Illidan...it was very clear in my mind that we were just getting our lumps as all raiding guilds did. Cheeseus of all people should have known where I was coming from, having doused himself in the Sunwell's waters. His disappointment was understandable. But was it warranted? We were moving through Ulduar at an excellent pace, far quicker than any raid in our history. That had to count for something, especially coming from a guild who prided itself on baby steps as quantifiable progress. But perhaps he, like some other players, were starting to see things differently -- the drastic shift in raid difficulty slowly permeating their rational thought, telling them to expect that bosses should just fall over dead after two or three attempts. I myself got bitten by these bugs in moments of haze, falsehoods eating deep into my subconscious like Yogg's own mad whisperings, telling us that we were failures by not killing a boss after only three weekends of work.

Or perhaps I just had a raid leader that was too much of a perfectionist.

"We'll get him soon enough. How's Eh Team coming along? You making any progress on hard modes yet?"

"Yeah, just Mimiron and Yogg left."

...left?

"You've cleared every hard mode in 10-Man except Mimi and Yogg?"

"Number one on Deathwing since the 9th of last month."

Cheeseus quoted from the bible of GuildOx, a website recently launched to track the progression of both the 10- and 25-man raiding guilds in WoW. I would've preferred to see us up at the top of the 25-man chart, but holding steady at the top of the 10-man chart was nothing to laugh at, either. I was pleasantly surprised to see us ahead of Enigma, but didn't think it would last too terribly long. As it turned out, The Eh Team allowed us to hold that spot throughout the majority of 3.1. I have to say, they were pretty proud of themselves. Perfectionist or not, Cheeseus knew what he wanted -- and he got it. If not in the 25-man, than by any other means necessary.

Mature and Sixfold (via Thirteenfold) shut down
their 100th match, earning "Mercilessly Dedicated",
Nagrand

Anger Management

In the evenings when we weren't working on Yogg-Saron, I decided to pour some more time into the Death Knight. In TBC and Vanilla, I felt stretched thin at times, not fully understanding the complexity of my main, not fully attuned to the class's nuances. With Kerulak the Shaman, I was ever striving to become a quality healer. In those days, there weren't too many guides to follow or Live Streams to learn from. By the time I had cut over to Zanjina the Shadow Priest in TBC, I had flushed one-and-a-half tiers of Shaman healing knowledge down the toilet, starting again from scratch with the troll's Shadow Word: Pain and the face-melting Mind Flay. Looking back, I felt I never really played the Shadow Priest to its greatest potential, spending many of my off-raid nights screwing around with alts. I told myself not to invest too heavily in a class I may have to bench to save my guild, so I became a jack-of-all-trades...and a master of none. Wrath gave me the opportunity to focus in on one class and grok it entirely, and so every waking moment in game was spent on Mature.

In order to exercise my Death Knight muscles, I dove into the undiscovered country of PvP. With the help of Sixfold, we spent many nights working away in arenas. I hadn't invested a lot of time in PvP (for reasons I hope are obvious by this point), but as part of the learning process, a little bit of tolerance and humility is called for. I admitted to Sixfold up front that I was shit behind the wheel, but his calm, laid-back manner put me at ease. This was just for fun, and we weren't here to prove anything to anyone. Outside of the scrutiny of a 25-Man raid which diligently analyzed combat logs and held people to their numbers, arenas offered up a chance to learn without punity. As long Sixfold and I didn't go up against any Paladins, nobody would be judging us.

Those arenas boiled my blood.

I walked away from those nights quaking in anger. On more than one occasion, I could hear Julie yell back at me from the other room to keep it down and watch the language. If the neighbors could hear me, they might fear for their lives at the obscenities that flowed from my computer room. It took every ounce of energy for me to stay calm, focused on my target, watching cast alerts coming in from Gladius, waiting to Mind Freeze, to Strangulate, to blow Empowered Rune Weapon and unleash everything I had before my target's healer regained control of herself. I'd smash my fist down on the desk, a child throwing a tantrum at the toy store. I hadn't been violent since my early Quake-playing days, but the keyboard graveyard welcomed me back like an old friend. Having left those days behind for World of Warcraft, the game had evolved me into a player of maturity and composure; the person who would lead the guild "by example" by doing what was right, making the hard decisions, biting his lip when appropriate and hoping...praying...that my good behavior rubbed off on the players who had been /ginvited.

All of that went out the door with arenas.

Through all the cursing and temper tantrums, Sixfold laughed and laughed. He took it all in stride, and never once was critical of my behavior, never once judged me for those wildly inappropriate bouts of fury and rage. Each time, he had new suggestions, new things for me to try, always encouraging, always educating. It didn't matter how frustrated or pissed-off I got, Sixfold was ready to jump into an arena and give it another go. I had to hand it to him. If I took nothing away from my terrible, horrible Death Knight play in those arenas, at least I got some solid reinforcement on how I needed to carry myself in the mentor department. Try to be tolerant. Don't take things so seriously. Patience is a virtue. You’ll get what you want with hard work and diligence. After preaching these edicts to the raiders for so long, it was important to get the sermon myself...

...just as it was important to get a break from being a Guild Leader...even if it was just for a few hours in Blade's Edge Arena.

Mature and Ben (via Fluffykitten)
rock out a perfect win against the Alliance,
Eye of the Storm

Winning Friends and Influencing People

When I wasn't in an arena with Sixfold or scouring Northrend for rares to complete Frostbitten, I forced myself into Battlegrounds. Other than the practice that Six and I got in The Ruins of Lordaeron or the Dalaran Sewers, the only other viable option for me to improve was to augment my PvP gear. PvPing by oneself was utter torture. I covered my hand with burning, melted plastic as a child...the result of a failed experiment to play with matches...and it hurt less than PvPing with a group of strangers who didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground. So I sought to find people in the guild to group with to help take the edge off -- a salve to apply to the face after dragging a cheese-grater across it. Neps was very often one of those players, but when the opportunity arose, I would do my best to group with Ben.

Ben was a fantastic PvPer, and a hoot to group with. As much shit as I gave him for missing raid signups and unleashing drunken tirades in Vent, he was a rock star player killer. He held no particular loyalty for any one class, he'd bring whatever you wanted to the gunfight: Scruffiebear the Druid, Flufflykitten the Hunter...he had nearly every tool at his disposal. We spent many evenings in those BGs, tearing up Eye of the Storm, fighting off the Alliance rush at Lumber Mill. And it was in those many evenings of PvP that I got my opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Just as there were two sides to World of Warcraft; two worlds I was force-feeding myself to know and understand -- there were two sides to the guild leadership game. That most basic of sides that everyone is exposed to, the one where "Guild Leader" is proudly attached to your in-game character, where the longevity of a guild mate is only a single button-press away, and you wield otherworldly like power in dictating how much to tax the serfs. And then, there is the other side of the picture, the part that isn't so blatantly in-your-face, by title or by forum administration privileges.

The game where you convince players to do what you want.

Once I had picked my battle and decided which players were worth the effort to pour energy into, the strategy shifted to winning them over. Ben had been giving Cheeseus grief in raids, his impulsive and brash attitude providing an steady stream of complaints to my IM window. But he was also popular, well-played, and good friends with one of my trusted officers, Neps. Therefore, I reasoned logically, he was worth the effort. So when I wasn't helping him cut down a Night Elf flag runner in the Gulch, I'd carry on a casual conversation with him about the 25-Man. I reminded him of the ropes, of what my expectations were of him in regards to the roster. We may not say it all the time, but you're vitally important. All you need to do is text me if you're going to be late, it's absolutely no problem at all. You are an essential part of the 25-Man progression team. What can I do to make things easier for you? Would it help if I shot you a reminder in-game every time I post the raid schedule? It's really no trouble, if it means I get the best Shadow Priest in the guild, I’d be happy to help you with some reminders. My tactic was simple: get him on my side, remind him how important he is, make him feel like I'm bending over backwards to facilitate his schedule and his needs.

If Mr. Carnegie was right, when it came time for Ben to meet my needs, maybe...just maybe...he'd switch off of Hodir and on to the NPCs as directed.

3.27. Eating What You Order

Hanzo channels Jesse Pinkman as DoD wraps
up their first kill of General Vezax,
Ulduar

Abdominal Distention

May was a full plate, both in real life in and in WoW. On the tangible side of the screen, I had a handful of events to plan for. Both my wife and son would celebrate their birthday this month, sandwiched between the festivities of a Mother's Day and a High School reunion stretched over the Memorial Day long weekend. On top of these family related-events, a trip to Texas had been penciled in, as my company's team in the Dallas area was due for more training on our app. Two years ago it would have been far too much to digest. Late nights of doing too much in-game, ignoring my family back in the real world. In order to manage the guild and my time effectively, I had to be a picky eater. Not every situation or individual demanded hours of care and upkeep. The right tools allowed me to use my time efficiently, whether they were streamlining my raid signups, or keeping raiders honest in-game. The days of ordering everything on the menu were behind me.

Yogg-Saron was in the crosshairs, a complex nightmarish encounter that would have to be diced up into bite-sized chunks. Before him, however, we had to defeat General Vezax. The faceless one that guarded the entrance to Yogg was next on our list, and his ability to suppress mana regeneration was sure to give our healers some headaches. Again, Cheeseus called upon the (over) power of the Death Knight and put me to work tanking Vezax. Some raiding guilds had strategized around Surge of Darkness by kiting, but Cheeseus never once optioned the tactic. I stood and ate the entire Surge, thanks to Icebound Fortitude and a ridiculous amount of self-heals via Death Strike. Execution ultimately came down to mastering the Searing Flame interrupt, my Mind Freeze rotation quickly becoming muscle memory. It was on the Mother's Day weekend that we completed the Vezax encounter, and dove into his loot table for dessert.

The roster maintained a steady flow of Raiders and Elites throughout May. Week after week, they signed up, entered the queue, and I managed their rotations. Raiders would back out, their empty spots being filled by new folks waiting in the queue. This had been my intention from the start -- a new world order, free of stress and demanding only minutes of my attention a day. Thanks to our web-based signup sheet, phpRaider, I was able to prepare the rotations for the weekend in the same amount of time it took to get a cup of coffee. It was a proactive system, rather than a reactive one, enabling me to deal with players that had a tough time being consistent. So when Ben missed the Mother’s Day raid sign-up, it was inconvenient but manageable; it wasn't the end of the world. No more frantic last-minute fills, no more late nights in-game to the detriment of my family...because the tooling was right.

Unless, of course, the tools themselves were broken.

oRA2 returning a durability check

phpFailure

"She like the iPhone?"

"Oh yeah, fuckin' loved it." I typed back to Cheeseus, "Totally flipped out, had no idea she was getting one for her birthday."

"Nice. I assume we're going with oRA2 now that we're pushing for Yogg?"

I concurred. RDX had served us well, but it was time to retire the old beast. Over time it had grown cumbersome; the add-on had always been top-heavy, eating into the CPU cycles of our lesser equipped players in the computer hardware department. Cheeseus and I found oRA2 and were looking to use it as a replacement. We needed something to report back to us the status of players and their flasks, durability, etc. Sure, I could blindly trust players, but why give them an opportunity to lie, just to sate me? It was no longer appropriate to just take their word. Far better to just implement the right tool to deliver the truth, and deal with table scraps as they surfaced.

"Forget to finish the rotations?" Cheese asked.

"What? No! Who is missing?"

"Looks like Turtleman cancelled again."

Annoyed, I alt-tabbed over to phpRaider. But he was rotated in yesterday morning...I remember confirming after dinner. We had the roster accounted for by the time we were in our 24-hour lockout window. I hovered over the little note next to Turtleman's name, the place where players left their reason...their excuse...for cutting and running:

(Sorry, had a family dinner. Nothing I could do about it)

One of the changes I introduced in Wrath disallowed players from cancelling when there were less than 24 hours before a raid. It was a gentleman's handshake, an extension of good faith: I'll give you the flexibility of coming and going as you pleased, and in return, you needed to commit when the clock ticked down to the final day before the raid. Only emergencies would get you out at the 11th hour, and that required you to phone or text me (or an officer). If you could manage it, I wanted the name of the person who was replacing you. It wasn't the officers' jobs to play Mommy and Daddy to spoiled brats wanting to change their schedules on a whim. If you left us high-and-dry, it was your responsibility to find a replacement. Failure to do so would ensure reduced rotations.

Outside of the 24 hour window, you were free to queue and de-queue as you pleased. I agreed to eat that. I would perform rotations as late as possible (generally Thursday morning), and even let you sign up weeks in advance. As long as it was a day before the raid, you could still change your sign-up.

This Friday morning, hours before the raid, someone had found a loophole and exploited it.

"This wasn't an emergency," I typed back to Cheeseus.

"So what happened?"

"He cancelled inside the window. There's a bug in phpRaider. I'm going to have to fix it before more people think this is allowed."

So while Turtleman enjoyed his family dinner and evening off, I took care of business. I made the calls that day. I got his replacement. After going through the motions of working on Yogg-Saron, I stayed up late and fixed phpRaider. And long after my wife and kids where already asleep, I climbed upstairs, and went to bed.

And dreamed of standing in fire.

Mature earns "Heroic: In His House He Waits
Dreaming" during an attempt on Yogg-Saron,
Ulduar

Peoplecraft

"I'll let you answer his PM," said Cheeseus.

Divineseal had sent a message to myself, Cheeseus, and Dalans, asking how he could start bringing his Druid. I took it off of their hands. People management was starting to get a little easier for me, no doubt as a result of the practice I was getting. The early days of Ekasra and Wyse were warm-ups, and Kurst's harsh truths gave me the basic foundation to work with. Thanks to a more balanced schedule, I could make quicker assessments -- a huge win during this packed month. If it wasn't worth the effort, they'd get the short-and-sweet answer. You're not working out. Sorry. I no longer had the time to cater to everyone. And that was OK. Not everyone is savable.

"7th place overall, with only 66% of a DISC priest, and on Freya placing 9th, BARELY beating the PROT pali, while losing to the enhance and elemental shammy?"

I winced.

"Yeah...not the greatest coverage in the book."

Cheeseus was clearly not a fan of Divineseal. I thought it would be reasonable to give him a shot, even after the warning, the speech...how I specifically detailed to him the fact that he was quoted in the red flag forum post. He knew all eyes would be on him and that this would be his opportunity to improve. I suggested healing as a role only because I knew he had been healing in an arena team. That was the deal: don't tell people how to spec just to get them on the roster. I told myself this would fly because he was already a healer in another capacity.

When your roster is comprised of half casual, half hardcore raiders, catering to both, you'll come to discover that some players will be unable to play any role well. It's a sad fact. I looked at my newly fixed phpRaider, saw Divineseal signed up well into the months ahead, and sighed.

Paladins were going to be the death of me.

"I'll be watching Ben tonight to make sure he's doing what he needs to. He wasn't switching off of Hodir again last week."

Ah yes, Ben. Rarely a day went by that Cheeseus didn't bring up this distaste. Since as far back as The Burning Crusade, Ben had driven me to the brink of madness, a mini-Yogg stealing sanity stacks as his random drunken outbursts and failure to show up left a crater in our progression team. It would be so much easier to just pop the guild roster open, scroll to the priests, and boot the entry named "Aeden" from the guild. My finger hovered over the guild kick button. But I didn't press it. Empathy and ownership bled out. Maybe I could work with him, teach him how to be more respectful of the other players' time -- more amenable to raid direction. But why not simply kick him to the curb? This would be so much easier. Because he was a good player. He was popular.

I was still having a tough time making unpopular decisions.

The good of the guild is what rung in my ears when I reached for that "Remove Member" button. The biggest impact Ben had on us was that he was friends with Neps, my newest second-in-command -- the same one accumulating Fragments of Val'anyr. Neps brought too much to the table to risk sacrificing over an occasional drunken rant from Ben. I could manage this. Neps was one of the most valuable players and officers in the guild. Jeopardizing him would be like standing in Ominous Clouds while guardians tore us apart in madness. No, it wasn't worth it. Far better for me to take Ben on as a personal responsibility than to cut him and lose Neps in the process.

"If he keeps that shit up, can you talk to him or remove him from raids?"

"Yeah", I replied, "I'll look after Ben."

---

I came to a stop at a red light in Flagstaff, the long weekend coming to a close. Julie turned to me and stared a moment; she had that look a person gets when something isn't quite right. The kids in the back of the Civic poked and prodded each other, giggling. She cut them off as she tried to listen, turning the radio down.

"What?" I asked.

"...there's something wrong with your transmission."

I tried to pinpoint the sound she was referring to. The light turned green and I pressed on the gas. There. 

"You hear that?"

"Yeah...I did." For a brief moment, I caught the sound of a light vibration, as if two gears were grinding together.