So I Dropped the Group . . .

Sometimes, you've just got to drop a group.

The other day, I found myself in a random Heroic Halls of Origination.  While I wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the length of the instance, I do enjoy the place, by and large, so I took a deep breath and prepared to settle in for a while.

The group consisted of a warlock, a hunter, and two DKs, beside myself.  I couldn't help but notice the names of the DKs:  Deadlydk (the tank), and Dkdeadly, from the same server.  /blink.  (The thought immediately occurred to me that there was some dual-boxing going on, but as they were talking to each other in chat, and as they weren't in the same guild, I figured that was unlikely.)

The tank immediately proceeded to put all our minds at ease (/tongue in cheek) by saying, "I can't tank this instance."

I figured I'd withhold judgement until I saw him in action.

The first trash pulls made me worried.  The tank's gear did, indeed, make it difficult for him to pull entire groups at once, but no CC was in evidence.  In addition, his dps DK friend must have been under the misguided impression he was a tank, as well, because the two of them seemed to share the duties rather frequently.

Let's face it:  I shouldn't have to burn through half my mana pool on an early trash pull in an Heroic Cataclysm instance by now.  (Chain-casting Regrowths that early is not encouraging.)

We reached Temple Guardian Anhuur, and without preamble, the tank pulled the boss.  Then he said something which more or less struck terror into my heart.  "What are we supposed to do for this boss?"  His DK friend said, "I don't know."

Suffice it to say we did manage to succeed, but only after a lot of confusion and finally some teamwork between the lock and me.  The boss died with the tank, the lock, and myself finishing him off.  Messy, but successful.  (Moonfire ftw.)

We headed off toward Earthrager Ptah, with the tank saying, "Oh, by the way, guys, we're going to be doing all the bosses.  Just saying."  I had visions of me viewing the Setesh fight from the ground.  (Happens often enough with a tank who knows what he's doing . . .)

As we ran up the stairs to the boss' area, the tank asked, "Am I supposed to be riding a camel?"

I whispered him, asking, "Do you know any of the bosses in here at all?"

"Nope," came the reply.  Great.  An undergeared tank who wants to complete the entire place, yet knows nothing about the instance.

Fortunately Ptah is reasonably simple, so aside from me whispering to the tank that it wasn't over yet after the boss' first "demise", he could handle the mechanics pretty well.

We ported back and, as I saw the trash in the next hallway we would be required to tackle, I groaned.  I remembered that trash.  It had wiped many a group when I was geared to the level of the instance, while in groups using CC.

The tank charged in, and, as expected, I couldn't keep him up, despite absolutely beautiful hps.  "I'll brb," he said, as the rest of us worked frantically to down the trash group.  As soon as the trash was dead, the other DK said, "Guess I'll brb, too."

I'd had it.  I knew there was no way, no way at all this group was going to be able to successfully make it through the instance.  In addition, I was doing this tank no favors by propping him up through encounters in which he should have been faceplanting and learning a thing or two.

I explained in party chat that our tank was hard to heal and knew none of the boss fights.  I told the group I had no patience for it that evening, and I wished them luck.  Then I dropped group.

I spent the rest of my limited evening playtime gathering herbs.

Stymied By Chess

The other day, I found myself in the rare position of being home with only one daughter.  It was my 15-yr-old "Champion" daughter, and she begged me to come with her to run some Burning Crusade heroics, just for the achievements.

I told her she was perfectly capable of soloing them, especially with the way her cat is decked out, but went with her, because it made her feel better.  Besides, it was a kind of fun "mommy-daughter" activity.

After running through all four Auchindoun instances, in between cake-making, frosting-making, etc. (she was making a cake for her 10-yr-old sister's birthday party), she asked if we could go to Karazhan and try for the Huntsman's horse.

Accordingly, we soon found ourselves in Karazhan with a dead Huntsman (no horse).

"Mom," she said, "It sure would be nice to be able to see more of this place."

"Wow, kiddo, I used to get so lost here.  I'm not sure how far we could get."

"Could we try?  Please?"

I figured I had nothing better to do than to spend time with my daughter, so we started up the stairs to the ballroom.  Skirting around the edge of the room, stopping only to kill the staff, who kept getting in the way, we ended up in the banquet hall, where Moroes and his buddies stood on the raised dias.  We cleared the room and got the boss down in no time flat.

The Maiden of Virtue fell in short order, and we headed off toward the opera event.  My daughter was rather excited.  "I wonder which one it will be!"

It was "Romulo and Julianne".  The star-crossed lovers were no match for an 85 moonkin and hunter.

Then we ran into a problem.  Unbeknownst to me, Blizzard had fixed a "bug" in the system.  Whereas before, successfully completing the opera event unlocked the back door, the back door now remained resolutely locked unless unlocked from the inside.  And I had no idea how to get there.

We spent at least the next half hour wandering around places I'd never been (never knew there was a place with soldiers practicing their skills or a blood-stained door), before I finally broke down and found a blog which told me to go out the other stage door.

My daughter found the door on the way and unlocked it for good measure, and we continued on, defeating the Curator, Illhoof, and Shade of Aran.  I couldn't summon Nightbane, and I didn't think we could two-man Netherspite, because of the beam mechanics, so we skipped those two.  Surprisingly enough, I didn't get lost once.

And then we found ourselves completely stumped.

We both know how to play chess, although I never play anyone because I can never win.  But no matter how much we read about soloing the chess event (which should be simpler with two of us, right?), this encounter had us beaten.

Finally, with the need to do the dishes from all that baking looming, I decided enough was enough.  "The lockout will still be there for a few days, honey," I told my disappointed daughter.  "And maybe we can persuade your dad to come with us, so we'll have three people on the encounter."

It seems ironic that of all the encounters, the one which would stop our progress would be the one nobody ever expected to fail in Burning Crusade.  But after we tackle this one, the Prince will feel like a piece of cake.

Shaking It Off

Last night was a tough raiding night, for me, anyway.

We were working on Alysrazor, an encounter for which I had been pretty excited.  But no matter how much I understood the very simple mechanic of the tornadoes, I kept dying.  (Before anyone asks, no, I wasn't keyboard-turning.  This also means I wasn't healing during the tornado phase, either--just trying to stay alive.)

Out of 25 people, I died the most. It was very discouraging.

It got to the point where if I had had any other healer at all to substitute in, I would have sat myself and gone and moped in a corner.

It got to the point where I started comparing this encounter in my head to Teron Gorefiend.

It got to the point where I wondered if I had any place playing this game anymore, or if I should just hang it up and walk away.

Alysrazor finally died.  And although I finished the encounter dead, as well, to tornadoes, there is nothing I can do to improve my tornado performance further until next week.  My fellow Druids did help me out with a small suggestion which made a big difference:  stick with the inner circles.  I hadn't realized the tornadoes were supposed to take the same amount of time going around the center, which would mean that the inner tornadoes move more slowly.  (Basic geometry.)  I thought they all had the same speed.  It was easier those last attempts, when I stuck with the inner circles, and I often found myself looking at my life bar in surprise after the tornado phase, wondering why I was at full health.  (The last time I died, I managed to try to go in between a couple of tornadoes.  Bad idea.)

One way or another, I need to shake off last night and move on.  Because the alternative would be to just quit.  And drat it all, when the day comes I leave the game, I want to do it on my terms, not because I slunk off in defeat.

Maybe my graphics card will come over the weekend, so I can get my computer fixed, and I won't have to use my husband's laptop anymore. Maybe I'll run a few heroics, so I can collect a few more anecdotes to try to relate in my sometimes amusing voice. Maybe I'll bake zucchini bread with some of the first zucchini from my garden. Maybe I'll knit. Perhaps I'll drag my husband out on a walk, in this beautiful monsoon season. Maybe I'll lose myself playing Enya on the piano. Maybe I'll start a blog on the adventures of homeschooling a mildly autistic teenager in preparation for the GED. (She took a practice GED math test yesterday and scored very well, but I'm not intending for her to really get her GED for two more years, as she just turned 15. Found a great on-line two-year program which preps not only for the GED, but also for college. Perfect.)  Maybe I'll get some badges and be able to pick up my new relic.  Maybe I'll study up on Ragnaros, because I have complete confidence Majordomo is going down next time we meet.

Next week is another chance to do it right.

First Tempest 25-man Alysrazor Kill

Never Seen That Strat Before

Not all my Cataclysm Heroic adventures meet with wild success. Not too terribly long ago, I queued and was happy to see the loading screen for Lost City of Tol'vir, because, although that location was the place which consciously inspired "Chase the Tank," I actually like the instance.

Immediately upon zoning in, the tank said, "brb." After several minutes, we were starting to speculate on what was taking him so long, including my suggestion that he was making a smoothie. When he returned, we discovered I hadn't been far off--he had been making food, but it was enchiladas. (He had no idea what I meant when I asked him if he had red or green sauce on his enchiladas, which shows he was not from New Mexico. The state question here is "Red or Green?" Seriously, we have a state question.)

We worked our way to General Husam and started on the boss. For some insane reason, the boss decided to pick me every single time he was slamming someone with Bad Intentions. The warlock actually had to battle rez me when I was smashed into a pillar and landed right on a bomb which blew up. I had a very difficult time keeping both the tank up and myself, with all the damage I was taking.

Suddenly, in the middle of the boss fight, the tank left group. Immediately, we wiped, and the dps asked, "What did he do that for?"

"I think he decided I was fail," I replied.

We managed to get a new tank, who asked what had happened. We told him we really didn't know. The tank hadn't said anything and had left mid boss fight.

"Maybe he wanted to eat his enchiladas in peace," one of the dps remarked.

The new tank got on his mount and immediately headed toward the boss. I expected to see him dismount and attack the boss, but instead, he kept on running. He gathered up the trash pack on the other side and continued around the building, losing health as he went. As the dps and I watched in amazement, he reappeared on the other side of the building, dragging the boss and the trash packs with him.

This meant, of course, when he passed us, we all got killed.

We probably should have seen it coming and run out the exit.  But I think I can safely say the dps were all as I was, jaws hanging open, puzzling in our minds what exactly the tank was trying to accomplish.

It is not often I meet with someone who is simply a jerk, but I think this tank met the criteria. I addressed him, thanking him for his unusual new insights into boss strategy, and left the group, putting his name on my Ignore list.

At least he didn't waste too much of my time before showing his true colors.

I requeued in short order.

More Heroic Adventures!

And the fun continues!  Despite the insistence by raiders much more serious than I am that everyone should be running Troll Heroics to cap Valor each week, I am still sticking with the regular Cataclysm Heroics.  If my guild downs a few Firelands bosses, I can with little trouble reach the cap in this fashion. (By the way, thank you, Kurn, for pointing out I really don't have to do the dailies in Hyjal if I don't want to do them.  I realized there is limited benefit to me at this point in time, so . . . I'm not going to do them unless I just feel like it that day.  No big hurry.)

Truthfully, however, this week I did not cap my Valor points.  One more boss in raid, and it would have been simple.  In addition, I took an evening off of Heroics to celebrate my wedding anniversary by sitting down with my husband to watch Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn in "Charade".  (When you live in the sticks, sometimes your celebration options are limited.)

Chasing the Tank Again, or Not

The other day, I queued and found myself in an Heroic Shadowfang Keep (much to the surprise of my 13-yr-old, who didn't know level 85 characters could run Shadowfang Keep.)  The warrior tank had two of his dps guildies along for the ride, the odd dps out being a DK.  As the warrior had his "Defender" title, I was confident this run would be reasonably simple.

Sure enough, we easily moved from the start through the first boss, without even blinking.  (Talk about chasing the tank . . . chain-pulling like crazy.)  He proceeded to the courtyard and pulled a group back into the room where the rest of us waited, as we expected him to do.

Then he did something we did not expect.  Unlike every other tank of my acquaintance, he did not return to the courtyard and pull another group back into the room.  I think I was the first person in the room, including his guildies, to realize he was down in the courtyard, fighting a group, and about to die.

We ran into the courtyard, but it was too late to save him or us.  As I wisped back to the entrance, I typed out, "Would have been nice if you had said you were going to stay in there."

He figuratively stuck his nose in the air, and saying, "Yea, and it would have been nice if you had been paying attention," he promptly left group with his guildies.

Good riddance.

I talked a bit with the DK, who agreed that the tank was unreasonable (I confess to calling him an idiot), as it was a perfectly normal expectation he would pull a second pack into the room.  (The DK actually contended that every other tank would LoS pull a second pack, but I can't speak for every tank, only the ones I've met.)  We decided to go ahead and refill the group.

To my surprise, our next tank ended up being this DK, which was actually a much better arrangement than the previous one.  Not only did he keep an eye on my mana, he managed to hold aggro so well I could completely pre-HoT him before a pull without worrying about pulling an add on me.  (Which has been almost unheard of in these Heroics lately.)

We breezed through the instance, and before we disbanded, I made sure to tell the tank how refreshing it was to be able to pre-HoT without worrying about pulling aggro.  It made him happy.

Shortcut to Valor

The next Heroic I entered was an Heroic Throne of the Tides.  (Remember how I hate that one?)  As the loading screen disappeared, I found myself with the tank, staring at Lady Naz'jar.

That spoke volumes.

As the dps reached our position, the kitty Druid exclaimed, "Yay, Druid healz!"  I had to wonder what exactly had happened their previous attempt(s) . . . but up to the challenge, I twirled my wrists a couple of times to loosen them and prepared for the pull.

Whatever had happened before, it must not have happened this time, because we managed to get the boss down in short order.  (Sure, there was a bit of tricky healing, but it all ended well.)  We continued on to Commander Ulthok and watched him fall.  The kitty commented that none of his other groups had ever gotten this far.  (Poor kitty.)

Then the tank surprised me.  We took the transporter back, but instead of turning right, down that nightmarish hallway of strange packs and mobs which make you fly in the air before pounding you into the dirt, he turned left, facing the gauntlet and the final boss.

It hadn't even occurred to me that you could skip the Stonespeaker and Mindbender encounter.  I'd never before been in a group which did.  After a little research, I find this is probably more amazing than not, as apparently a lot of people skip that boss now.  (Wow, new surprises all the time . . .)

I was so relieved by the situation that I didn't mind all the mad healing for the gauntlet.  It was a lot easier than the other hallway.

We one-shotted Ozumat, and went on our way.  Start to finish, less than a half an hour, no wipes, and 70 Valor.  Now that is efficient.

Heroic Adventures

Running Cataclysm Heroics as a slightly overgeared healer is a lot more fun than running them as a healer geared to the level of the instances.  Even so, I find my adventures.  The main reasons are because many of the other players are undergeared, or else they think they can take more risks, because the healer is overgeared.

Chasing the Tank

The other day, for instance, I found myself in an Heroic Lost City of Tol'vir.  No problem, I thought.  This is a fun instance.  As we went on, I think the tank realized I could manage things pretty well, because he started chain-pulling the trash.  Tanks, no matter how well-geared your healer is, if she has to keep tossing out heals because you or the dps are not as well-geared, sooner or later, she is going to need to replenish her mana.  I found myself dropping on the ground to drink for the four seconds or so I could get away with until the tank absolutely needed another heal.  I commented in Druid chat (in short bursts, because that was all I could manage while casting), "This tank needs a hearty rendition of 'Chase the Tank.'"

After the run, I made a macro inviting tanks to listen to the song, specifying the YouTube URL.  I doubt I will ever actually click it, but it gave me a sense of satisfaction.

Unwelcome Moonfire

Another fun run was a Blackrock Caverns.  As soon as I saw the graphic, I thought, "Oh, this will be easy.  I can heal this one with my eyes closed."  It's a good thing I kept my eyes open.  I found myself in a group with a tank (pally--for some reason, I've had a lot of pally tanks), an Enhance shammy, and two moonkins.  I was quite surprised until I realized both moonkins were from the same guild and probably queued together.  (Lot o' orange on my Vuhdo.)

Everything started out fine.  The tank seemed to know what he was doing, more or less, in pulling the trash in increments.  When the first boss entered the room, the pally paused to wait for him to pat back out, so as not to pull the other group waiting on the other side of the room.  But apparently one moonkin decided he was bored and didn't want to wait.

I watched in amazement as a Moonfire hit the boss, and both the boss and the trash pack immediately beside him charged in our direction.  I wanted to punch a moonkin, but I didn't know which one had tossed the moonfire.  In the mayhem, while the tank feverishly worked to pick up the adds, I managed to die.  A moonkin tossed me a BR, but now I was in the gimped position of having to keep everyone alive through the boss and the extra group with just the mana from my innervate and a quick Mysterious Potion.  I hearkened back to my undergeared days and practiced focused triage healing, keeping the tank up and everyone else at about half health or so, with heavy use of Nourish.  I think I lost a moonkin in the process, if I recall correctly, but we made it through the encounter.  It wasn't the last time one of the moonkins decided he wanted to pull . . . I wasn't disappointed to see the last of them after the instance was complete and I got my 70 Valor.

Drowning Beneath the Sea

Yesterday, I found myself in Throne of the Tides.  My 14-yr-old heard me groan upon seeing the loading graphic, and when she asked me what was wrong, I told her, "I hate this one."

This run ended up being interesting for a couple of reasons.  The tank was playing his pally alt, when he is used to playing his bear main, so he kept forgetting he was undergeared.  And the mage, who happened to be a guildie of the tank, kept standing in stuff.  I spent so much time keeping the mage alive sometimes that I almost made a conscious decision to let him die.  (Lost him a few times, but you can't always keep alive a squishy mage who thinks he can stand in poison.)

We did manage to make it through, but it took a few wipes (lost track of the number--at least half a dozen) and a LOT of mana.  On the gauntlet with the water elementals, it was absolutely crazy trying to keep the tank alive (we did wipe there once because he forgot he couldn't just gather them all up and be fine in his present gear) as well as trying to keep myself alive from everything I managed to pull via healing aggro.  I almost died on the attempt we were successful, but the tank remembered he had Lay on Hands and used it.  I made sure to tell him afterward it was a well-timed move.

At least nobody lost their temper, bailed out, kicked anyone, etc.  We finished the instance with the same people who started it.  (With the exception of the rogue who was afk at the start, but I don't count him.  He never really started the instance.)

Honestly, in these situations, I really don't get too upset or agitated.  They amuse me, and they challenge me, but they don't raise my blood pressure.  Maybe it's because I know I don't really have anything to prove in these instances.  If I succeed, people will take it for granted, because I'm overgeared.  If I make a mistake and we wipe, they will most likely not blame me, anyway, because I'm overgeared.

It's all fun and games, and I haven't yet been denied a chance for Valor.

There's a First For Everything

With the sudden need for Valor points, I found myself running heroic randoms again . . . the first time since I managed to become raid-ready in Cataclysm.  But, as I had only managed to fight Jin'do in the Troll Heroics, I decided it wasn't worth the trouble to try running them at all, when I could run a familiar and lower-level Cataclysm heroic, instead.  Fewer Valor points, true, but a lot less stress.

After one night of this, I started wondering if maybe, just maybe, I wanted to try to run a Troll Heroic.  Break out of my shell.  Try something adventurous and new.  Take a risk.  Something.

Saturday evening, I finally got the nerve to try for a random Troll Heroic instance.  I researched the abilities of the bosses, so I knew what I needed to do and not do, and I even made little notes on a piece of paper with keywords, so I would remember my research.

I looked at my 13-yr-old daughter and asked, "Am I brave enough to do this?"  She nodded and said, "Yes, Mom, you're brave enough."

I smiled at her and queued, just at her bedtime.  /waves bye to 13-yr-old.

Seven minutes later, I was in Zul'Gurub with a pally tank, a mage, a rogue, and a hunter.

Troll instances make me just about as lost as Kharazhan, but I knew as long as I stuck with the tank, I'd be fine.  And things were going well.  I figured out there was something about cauldrons pretty quickly (hey, it wasn't in the stuff I read about the place), and we were making good progress.

We might have wiped on the first boss, but a well-timed Battle Rez saved the situation.  As a matter of fact, we weren't actually wiping at all, and I was having some fun.

We weren't wiping until Jin'do, that is.

I remembered about standing in the bubble in phase 1, and I remembered about standing beneath the chains in phase 2.  So I did these, and easily got killed by the adds.  We wiped.

The mage hollered at the hunter to stop dpsing the boss in phase 2 and get the adds off the healer.  (To be honest, this mage was rather a know-it-all pain, but you meet those every so often.)

Tried again.  Wiped again.  Dratted adds.  Mage hollered at the hunter again.  Tried again.  Wiped again.  Mage was beside himself.  "Someone else is going to have to help dps chains!"

The hunter and the rogue left.  An elemental shaman and another rogue joined the group.

This time, the shaman was to keep adds off me and the rogue was to help with chains.  Tried again.  It was easier to heal this attempt, somehow.  It seemed like it was going to work.  I even somehow managed to return to chains when I was about to be charged, after dancing around nasty stuff and trying to avoid adds.  But we wiped again.  The mage hollered at the rogue to stop dpsing the big guy and help with the chains.

And suddenly, I found I was no longer part of the group.

My jaw dropped.

Never before have I been kicked from a group.  Never.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing, even as I was being teleported out of the instance.  An hour and a half, and I was denied the opportunity for Valor.  It was ripped away from me, after all my efforts to prepare and perform well.

I shared this amazement with a healer guildie in Druid chat, and his response was, "That's why I don't heal Troll Heroic randoms anymore."

I think I am no longer brave enough.  Those Cataclysm Heroics will do the trick, for as much time as I have to run heroics, anyway.

/rips up notes on Troll Heroic research

You Will Show the Proper Respect!

Many of you will have echoes in your head of a particular speech cadence when you read this title.  You'll see a dark platform in Black Temple, and a boss dressed in armor with bits of brilliant blue.

And if you're like me, you still have a residual knot in the pit of your stomach . . .

Teron Gorefiend had already been killed by Tempest when I transferred to Gorgonnash, but the encounter could by no means be considered farm content by that point.  The raid leaders posted up information about the fight, including a link to an online flash simulator to teach people how to deal with being a ghost.

Remember that?  At regular intervals throughout the fight, the boss would mark one player with the Shadow of Death.  The marked player had to move to the opposite end of the platform and wait for . . . inevitable death.  Yep.  You were going to die and become a ghost.  And when you did, four Shadowy Constructs spawned around you.  And only you (or another ghost who was very efficient and had already killed his own constructs) could kill them.

Talk about pressure.

Here I was, a brand-new Restoration Druid dressed mostly in battleground gear with a few pieces I'd picked up off-spec while being a fail tank, who had never, ever stepped foot in Black Temple (ok, except for the time my friend made me solemnly promise I wasn't going to steal their lockout and took me on a tour up through the Mother Sharaz room, just so I could see the place) with great fear in my heart that I was going to totally let down the raid and be forever condemned in the WoW universe, trying to catch up on boss strats.

It wasn't a good situation.

I had worked on the simulator, as required by the raid leader.  (/wave to my old raid leader, who knows I put him on ignore as soon as he stepped down, but who is cool now.)  But those annoying constructs kept eluding my efforts to kill them on the simulator, no matter how many times I tried and beat my head against my keyboard.

I was desperate.  The only thing left to do was pray that Teron Gorefiend wouldn't pick me.

I know that God loves us and answers prayers.  But He doesn't necessarily answer all of them in the affirmative.  If I'd prayed for the ability to master the encounter, He might have acquiesced, but I'm not sure how much he puts His hand into influencing random number generators.

At any rate, when we were finally facing Teron Gorefiend and the time came for the first person to be marked with the Shadow of Death, Teron Gorefiend chose me.

The first time most people in the raid heard my voice over Vent, I was crying out in desperation and agony, "Noooo!"

I failed miserably.

We wiped.  I had to come to grips with the fact that, yes, I had let the raid down.  But somehow, I didn't find myself forever condemned in the WoW universe.  (Except in the eyes of the raid leader's mod, which whispered exactly how much of a failure you were when you died . . .)  We picked ourselves up, and we faced the boss again.

I don't remember how many attempts it took to kill him that night, but it took a few.  I discovered I wasn't the only one who had difficulty with constructs.  And I discovered that by and large, people were reasonably kind and forgiving, as long as the player was really trying their best.

Over time, I did finally master the simulator, succeeding with consistency.  I was never comfortable with the idea of being the first one marked with the Shadow of Death, but if I was the third or fourth, and had the reasonable hope of one of the more skilled players being around to help out as a ghost if I ran into trouble, I could face the situation with a larger measure of calm.

But somehow, even though I now remember that encounter with a certain amount of colorful nostalgia, I'm glad I don't have to face Teron Gorefiend again as a level 70.

Reading Directions Revisited

It has been almost a year since I wrote about guild applicants' seeming inability to read the directions before applying.  This is still a source of frustration.

I'm not really surprised at this.  Human nature in general doesn't change just because another year has passed, and applicants to Tempest most likely do not peruse my year-old blog entries before applying, so I can't say they've been warned.

Recently, we had an applicant who obviously had not read the directions.  In fact, he had missed the ending of the application form, never mind the indicator to show us he had read the "Must Read Before Applying" sticky.

I was in a good mood, so I figured I'd help him out.

I told him it looked like he had missed the end of the application and asked him if he had read the sticky, along with asking for clarification on a point where his answer had been nebulous.  His response completely ignored my first two points.  His application was not fixed, and no indicators were given.

I reminded him of those first two points.

He stated he had read the sticky and asked if he'd missed something.

I told him he had.

He finally fixed his application to include the ending portion he had previously missed.  He then proceeded to copy/paste the points in the sticky and respond to each one.  I wanted to /facepalm.

I responded with a statement thanking him for finishing his application and taking so much time to unnecessarily respond to each of the points in the sticky.  (The sticky specifically says applicants do NOT need to include it in their application . . .)  I also gave him the biggest, broadest hint I have given anyone without actually saying, "There is a key word here":  I told him I wanted to know he had read the sticky to. the. bitter. end.

I'm not sure what half of his next response meant, because it was written in language I am not in the habit of using, but it certainly did not show he had read the sticky to. the. bitter. end.

By this time, I was seriously wondering about his capability to notice details or follow directions at all.

I'm probably making too much of this.  Then again, our sticky does say that failure to read it in its entirety will result in an automatic denial of the application.

Maybe I should go do something else for a while, instead of staring at his application, thinking he must be genetically programmed against recognizing hints.  Hmmmm, I could dig in my refrigerator, find the apples which are starting to get a little too old to just cut and eat, and make an "apple pie" . . .

More Little Kid Adventures!

Not too long ago, after my husband stopped playing his account, he set up my 9-yr-old and 7-yr-old to play together.  (One on his account, one on the kid account . . . only reason we keep the billing up on his account, by the way.)  Because the computers they were using are in different rooms, he decided to set up voice communications for them.  This meant, of course, that the girls had a bit of time logged in before they could actually start on their adventures.

While he was at the 9-yr-old's computer, messing with the voice controls, he suddenly noticed in chat that a particular rogue was beating the tarnation out of people in duels.  To his surprise, he realized it was the character the 7-yr-old was playing!

This little 3rd-grader (she skipped a grade) was stomping other players into the dirt.  (I can see people now grumbling how OP rogues are, if an elementary school student who has just learned long division can dominate the scene at Goldshire while playing one.)

Given that this is the child who could manage to do things to my computer that I didn't know how to do when she was 5, I could believe it.

The 9-yr-old has still been having a lot of fun running instances with her hunter.  The other day, she came to me and told me about a recent dungeon she had run.

"The other people talked to me and told me some things about my gear and my . . . my buttons and stuff."

"You mean your rotation?"

"Yea, that's it," she smiled.  "And the next day, when I ran another dungeon, I met one of those people again!  She remembered me."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep, and after that instance, she told me that my dps had really improved in just a day!"

You have to realize that this daughter made her hunter on a server apart from my characters' (her choice), so she has not had the benefit of extra gold to buy gear.  She has also not had much coaching from her parents, who never really figured she'd get past the occasional quest, and were totally surprised to find her running random instances.  (As she seemed to have the general idea, I hadn't worked with her on the nuances.)  So her progression in-game comes entirely from her own efforts, or in this case, from a few well-placed words by kind people she met in an instance.

So, to that kind person she met, whoever you are (my 9-yr-old would probably remember the name if I asked, but she's at school), thanks for taking the time to help a lowbie hunter learn a trick or two.  It really made her day.

Thoughts About Blizzard

My two eldest daughters are in a public speaking class in high school.  Most recently, they were assigned to prepare "informative" speeches.

My eldest daughter decided to speak on Irish fairies--a subject about which she likes to read and so knows a bit.  She duly turned in her chosen topic when it was due.

I'm not sure what topic my second daughter chose at first, but her older sister apparently persuaded her that she needed something more unusual--something about which the other kids would know nothing.  "Like the history of Blizzard Entertainment or something."

So my second daughter turned in as her topic, "The History of Blizzard Entertainment".

When I heard about this, I just about fell over in a faint.

"Why didn't you encourage her to pick something with which she is already familiar?" I asked my eldest daughter with some exasperation. (I refrained from any implication that she purposely wanted her sister to fail.) "Why couldn't she have spoken on pet rats or raising chickens or Greek myths?"

My second daughter is ever-so-mildly autistic (sort of like Asperger's, but not quite), so she needs a lot of encouragement and direction (and love, but not always hugs).  I knew that with a topic like this, we would be doing about as much research as required for a research essay.  (I help her locate sources or distill information, whichever she needs at the moment.)  To complicate matters, I couldn't easily contact the teacher and ask if she could change her topic.  This class is "dual-enrollment," which means her high school teacher is acting as a facilitator, while the "real" teacher is a stranger a few hundred miles away at a university.  In addition, I wasn't sure changing the topic would be a good idea, anyway, as it would send the message to my daughter I had no confidence in her ability to accomplish what she sets out to do.  (This is a bad message for any child, but it is especially bad for those who have more challenges than some other children.)

There was no help for it but to turn to Google.

My daughter ran a search and managed to find a couple of websites with timelines or articles on the history of Blizzard.  We discussed them together, pulling out the relevant ideas and restating them in her notes.  I sat at my computer to find other references while she put together her outline on her laptop and started fleshing out the paragraphs.  (Thankfully, anything reasonably organized is her forte, but that shouldn't be too surprising.)  I found some good information on the Blizzard site, itself, which I e-mailed to her, and she "interviewed" me for some content, as a customer who has played World of Warcraft since it was first available.

Her prepared speech was optimistic and upbeat, while showing the troubles and difficulties faced by the company through many acquisitions and changes.  The fact that it is the 20th anniversary of the company this year was a bonus and made a great point with which to introduce the topic.  She concluded on a positive note, citing the number of subscribers (ok, we went with "over such-and-such a number"), the plans for a Warcraft movie, and the hope Blizzard has for continued success in the future.

It occurred to me that I had left some things out in my discussion with her, especially when I read Blacksen's blog from the weekend.  I had told her that when the merger with Activision occurred, there had been some concern over the direction the game would take.  I had also said that the game had changed to make it more appealing to a wider audience.  These were true.

What I hadn't told her was the theme I have seen repeated through forums and blogs:  that Cataclysm just isn't the same as the previous WoW iterations.  Some long-term players are losing interest and thinking this is the end of the Warcraft universe.  Maybe some of those people have simply grown up and moved on, with other things on which to focus now:  families, schooling, or work.  (In other words, they would have left, anyway, no matter what had turned up in Cataclysm.)  Perhaps, also, there are those who have finally recognized the futility of it all--that no matter how hard they work, the next tier, everything will again be leveled.  There is no lasting reward for their efforts, which may have been extensive.

Now, what this means for Blizzard, I do not know.  If the number of new subscribers is keeping up with the number cancelling their subscriptions, they will not necessarily lose market share:  it will just change focus.  And for a company whose primary goal is to stay in business and make money, adapting to the available market is probably a good thing.

I know if I ever quit WoW, which will probably happen sometime in the future (about the time the next expansion comes out), I will most likely not be moving on to another MMO.  Why would I?  I would always be comparing it to WoW.  Even now, when I read information on other games, I find myself categorizing classes or abilities in terms of WoW classes or abilities.  Maybe I'll do some writing or start a home business or something.

In the mean time, I'll focus on getting my healers through Cataclysm and getting my daughters through high school, although not in that order.

Endangered Species

I am an Endangered Species--the Night Elf Druid.

In my raid, there are five--count 'em, five--Druids.  One is Feral, one is Balance, and three are Resto.  (We'd be delighted if we could find another Balance.)  Traditionally, we have enjoyed running Druid-heavy raids, so the fact we have five is not terribly unusual.  What is unusual is the distribution of the races.

Out of the five Druids in our raid, I am the only Night Elf.  Yep, the only one.  Last week, this worked to my advantage.

Our raid had just killed Valiona and Theralion in Bastion of Twilight, and our intrepid Feral was pulling the next trash back into the room.  Each of these opponents is a large creature with a big twirly weapon, so it makes sense to work with them where there is space to move around.

Someone goofed.  I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but it became obvious we were going to have to wipe on the trash.

When a wipe is called, healers are supposed to stop healing, and everyone runs to the nearest fire or other damaging effect, so we can quickly die, rez, and get on with the raid.  This time, I stopped healing, ran to the side, and hit Shadowmeld.  I knew that as long as I could get out of combat so the trash could reset, it was fine--I didn't have to actually die.  I waited and watched while the rest of the raid died, bit by bit, hoping nobody would get too close, but still expecting the mob to eventually figure out where I was and come after me, weapon swinging.

But this time, it didn't happen.  The rest of the raid came back to the instance and rezzed, while I watched the mob run back down the hall and reset.

I couldn't resist the urge to gloat just a little bit.  I typed in Officer chat, "Shadowmeld ftw!  I am the only Night Elf Druid, and I lived!"  Our friendly mage consultant typed back, "Sometimes it is an advantage to not be trendy."

Indeed so.

Hokey-Pokey

My husband was talking with one of our WoW-playing co-workers the other day, and she asked him what level he had reached.  She was surprised to hear he had only reached 82.

He embarked on a long discussion of the history of MMOs, concluding by saying he just wasn't interested in playing WoW anymore, except to play with his wife and daughters.  The main reason, he said, was that everything had been dumbed down so as to make it accessible to the largest variety of players, and there was no challenge anymore.

I protested, saying that some of the dungeons I'd been running had been challenging, mostly because I had had to relearn how to play my character, given that a lot of rules had changed.

"No," he said. "You've been able to make it through the instances all right.  What you've been doing is not relearning how to play your character, but learning how to play your character efficiently."

He stated there were no situations in which players had to strategize, thinking about how best to use their characters.  The suggestion that that was what raids were for did not fly. The encounters were too formulaic.  Once you learned a few basic principles, you were in.

"You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out,
You put your right foot in and you shake it all about,
You do the hokey-pokey and you get the boss down."

And that, he said, was what it was all about.

I can see his point, in that there are things which are formulaic.  I'm sure there are only so many ideas developers can come up with before they simply run out and start recycling.  How many times have experienced raiders compared a mechanic in a new fight to a mechanic in a fight they did three years ago?  When I explain the 2nd boss strategy in Stonecore to players new to the instance, I simply say, "Stay out of the stuff on the ground," and everyone knows what I mean.  We've seen it before.

But I've also seen enough encounters in Cataclysm dungeons to know it is not all facerolling.  There are trash packs which will flatten a group if not managed properly.  (The stars in Vortex Pinnacle, for one . . .)  And there are boss fights which still require thought to succeed.  So I can't completely agree with him that everything is too formulaic and simple.

In addition, from what I hear, Heroics will provide a good challenge.  I'm finally getting the hang of current Druid healing, feeling more comfortable with my triage skills.  I still have a ways to go before I will be Heroic material, but I'm looking forward to it.

Postscript:  Tuesday night, my husband entered Stonecore for the first time, with me tagging along to heal him as tank and to explain everything I knew about making it through the instance.  (Which in Stonecore, is quite a bit . . .)  Everything went pretty well until the final boss, where I kept dying to adds.  After a few iterations of this and some brainstorming by the group (two of whom said they had lousy AOE and the third of whom said he didn't dare open up on the boss because he pulled aggro), we managed to get the boss down with two dps alive and my husband's tank barely hanging on to a tiny sliver of life.  As he rezzed me, he told me he was revising his opinion of the Cataclysm dungeons.

Communication in Randoms

Last night, I queued for a random Cataclysm dungeon.  As a matter of fact, I queued for two.  The first one was an "in progress" Throne of the Tides.  It was my first time in the instance, and I was delighted, but it was pretty tough.  The DK tank was a bit squishy, and I actually ended up with mana problems on one of the bosses (Innervate and potion!).  I felt a little wrung out by the end, when the achievement flashed across my screen.  I left group and requeued.  (15 minute wait as a healer.)

After that ToT experience, I was rather relieved to see my next random turn out to be Blackrock Caverns.  I had successfully run Blackrock Caverns three times the previous night, with no real issues, so I looked forward to relaxing a bit more.  However, this was not to be.

All four of the other people in my group were melee in the same guild.  The fact that they were in the same guild did not disturb me.  The fact that they were all melee--a pally tank, two DKs and one Enhancement Shammy--was a little disconcerting.  Having all melee means that every time the boss does a close-range AOE attack, everyone takes damage.  It is much easier to heal a group with mixed melee and range players, where, as a general rule, not everyone will be taking the same kind of damage at the same time.

So we started on our way.  Trash went down fine, and the tank seemed reasonably simple to keep up.  (No desperate repetitions of Regrowths, as I had to employ while healing that squishy DK tank . . .)  Surprisingly, but not impossibly, the tank decided to pull the first boss right away into the hall, instead of trying to clear some of the room.  All was going well until the boss cast his chains.

I had read the strategy, and I knew those chains needed to be dps'd down quickly, so everyone could run away from the immediate vicinity of the boss.  Even as a healer, I had done my part in previous runs, so I targeted the chains, hit Moonfire, and started throwing Wraths.  There was only one problem:  I was the only one doing anything to the chains.  As a healer, I could not dps them down quickly enough alone, and upon the boss' AOE cast, all but the pally tank lay flat on the ground.

Thankfully, I remembered how to run back to that area from my Vanilla WoW days (Thank you, UBRS), and was back in the instance quickly.  I asked the group, "Who else was dpsing the chains?" but there was silence.  I was a little annoyed, thinking it most likely they were talking in guild chat, but not bothering to type in party chat.

This time, the tank decided to do a little clearing first.  Accordingly, he ran to the left and picked up the group there.  This would probably have been a good plan, except that somehow, someone managed to pull more trash, including a caster across the room who decided I was the ideal target.  (I believe that was healing aggro, as I had just cast something on the tank at that moment.)  With the pally tanking the melee and me tanking the caster, there was a lot of healing to be done.  But the real problem began when the boss came back around the corner and saw the caster busily trying to kill me.  Yep--you guessed it.  Boss pull.  Wipe.

Still, I only heard silence from the rest of the group.  No suggestions.  No "oops".  No "Gee, I should have gripped that caster before the boss came around the corner."  I was really getting miffed.  Did these people think I was some sort of automaton?  It was pretty obvious to me that they had not researched the fight a lot.

/sigh.  Ran back again.  I think the Shammy ankhed,  because by the time I returned, the rest of the group was all alive.  With the trash pack from the side gone, the tank went ahead and pulled the boss back into the hallway.  Things were going just fine until--figure this--the chains.  Again, I dps'd the chains, and again, I could not take them down alone in time.  This time, we were all flattened.

As I ran back, I chewed them out in party chat.  (I'm a nice person, so my chewing out wasn't really terribly harsh.)  "You've GOT to dps the chains.  I'm the only ranged, and I'm the healer.  I can't do it by myself."  (I might have clarified, saying, "Even if I do not need to heal anyone, I just don't have enough dps power!  You should see me killing naga as Resto . . . the only reason they end up dying is because they can't kill me . . .")

This time, I was getting really mad.  Even if they did not feel chatty, at this moment we were presumably engaged in a common endeavor, and a little communication on strategy, mistakes, fixing mistakes, etc., would have been in order.

Suddenly, in shock, I saw something appear in party chat.  It was the tank.  He said, "Sorry."  Then he left group.  When the option came to requeue, I declined and left group as well.

It's a given that everyone expects communication in 25-man raids.  But with the ease at which we've been able to accomplish Wrath Heroics lately, people have become accustomed to simply saying, "Thanks for group," as the extent of communication in randoms.  But this is Cataclysm, and it is a whole new ball game, as the saying goes.  Groups are going to have to communicate, and four of the group communicating in guild chat while the healer hears nothing is insufficient.

I think, in future randoms, that I will greet the group at the beginning.  If I see they are all in the same guild, I will tell them up front to please communicate in party chat, as I cannot read their guild chat.  (Obvious, but I think some people need reminding.)  Perhaps if I make the first move, others will feel more free to communicate, and nobody will be left stewing in the dark.

New and Improved Redridge

More lore questing!

To be honest, Redridge was a zone I had done once with my main and vowed to avoid whenever possible.  I hated the orcs which ambushed me from behind the big rock to the north . . . or was it south?  I hated the concentration of bad guys EVERYWHERE.  And the quests were just plain mind-numbingly tedious, so I found every opportunity to quest elsewhere.  (There wasn't always a good alternative . . .)

These residual emotions of revulsion made me a little hesitant to tackle the zone, but as Westfall left me with a couple of quests directing me there and on the recommendation of a former guildie, I decided to give it a try.

Some of the early quests felt a bit familiar, in a mind-numbing sort of way . . . Ho hum . . . But then I discovered the underground fight club at the inn, and everything changed.

If there is ever a quest chain designed to make you feel powerful, this is it.  (/flex)  Not only that, you get to do it with powerful, motivated, and enthusiastic friends.  (Which is clue #1 that they are NPCs . . . just kidding.  I do have enthusiastic player friends . . .)

Again, like the Westfall quests, I found myself becoming so wrapped up in the story line that I did not feel time ticking or take note of the number of quests completed.  I was focused on the mission, which sometimes required me to remember my sneaking skills (who am I kidding?  I'm a Druid!), sometimes inspired maniacal laughter while assisting in extreme violence (I don't play FPS games, so the whole extreme violence thing doesn't usually appeal to me), and made me giggle in sheer delight watching things go boom.  (IRL, I live in a place where we make things go boom . . . on test ranges . . . /giggle . . .)

The ending was nothing short of epic, combining bittersweet emotions with a blaze of glory.  It might almost have come out of Hollywood . . .

If I ever find myself leveling a lowbie Alliance character again, I don't think I will avoid Redridge.

The Motivation to Play

The other day, a co-worker wanted to chat about WoW.  She told me she had taken a character and gone to check out the new quests in Westfall but had been disappointed.  According to her, the quests required too much thought and guesswork.

"When I play after work," she said, "I play to relax, not to have to use my brain."

Of course, she emphasized, she enjoyed the challenge of raiding, but that was different.  She didn't want challenges in her questing.

"I'm just not sure I want to continue in Cataclysm, if the questing is going to be like this," she told me.  "I guess I'll give it a month and then decide."

I don't know what micro-expressions manifested themselves on my face, but I'm sure they displayed something to the effect of incredulity.  Sure, I don't like quests which make me beat my head against the wall, wondering what the objective is, but these days, few quests fall into that category.  After all, objectives now sparkle enough to be seen 50 feet away, and the Blizzard interface has the option to show the general location of objectives, as well as confirm the identity of the target mobs when mousing over them.  (She is still complaining about the demise of Questhelper, by the way.  She says the Blizzard interface isn't enough.  I'm not sure what she's talking about, as I think the Blizzard interface is more than adequate.  But I digress . . .)  If the quester is confused even slightly, websites like Thottbot or Wowhead are there to clear everything up.

I had flashbacks of reading multiple players' complaints on forums throughout Wrath that WoW had become too easy--that the developers had catered too much to "the casuals".  Considering that casual players still pay the same subscription, but may not actually use the resources as much as others, I would think they are better money-makers for Blizzard, so it would make sense they would work to appeal to casual players.  But I had heard the developers had listened to the less casual players, as well, when they worked on designing Cataclysm, adding more challenges.

Personally, I think that overall, Blizzard has done a pretty good job of finding ways to appeal to players with a variety of motivations to play.  (Obviously, or they wouldn't be up to . . . however many million subscribers now.)

The evening after I spoke with my co-worker, I took my Druid out to Westfall, to check things out.  I hadn't really considered working on Loremaster-type achievements, but I was curious to see what kinds of challenges she had faced and not enjoyed.  I found that, yes, many of the quests were linear, meaning that one quest led to another, rather than picking up a half-dozen quests to do at the same time.  And some of the earlier ones did not say exactly how you were supposed to accomplish them, which may be what frustrated my co-worker.  (They said something to the effect of "find the clue", without giving as much detail as, "kill the murlocs until you find the clue.")  But the story line quickly grabbed me, and before I knew it, midnight had come and I had to call it a night.

Unlike the previous quests, which had been something to the effect of, "We're in a war with the Defias, so kill a bunch of them.  By the way, pick up some food," there was more reason to fight things.  Sure, there was some food-gathering, but it was to feed the hungry refugees, and the drop rates were more sensible and consistent.  Sure, we picked up red bandanas, but it was to provide clues to a brutal murder.  There was more purpose to the quests and more cohesiveness to the storyline.

The next night, I went back to Westfall, even before I considered running a random to complete my Gnomeregan Exalted reputation.  I continued on with the quests, following the story to its conclusion, marvelling at the outcome, and getting the Westfall quest achievement.

I don't consider myself hard-core.  But nobody goes into healing if they do not like challenges in their game-play.  Even more, I do like a good mystery or puzzle, so the quest line I found was very satisfying to me.  (After all, I played the Myst games way back when--talk about beating your head against a wall.)  If this is the sort of thing we will be finding throughout Cataclysm, I suspect I will be paying much more attention to the lore than I have hitherto done.

I'm actually looking forward to doing more lore questing now.  Some, anyway.

So I Fell . . .

Last night, I was playing on my not-so-baby Discipline priest, flying around Zangarmarsh (yea, that's how not-so-baby she is now), when the power went out for just a few seconds at my house.  Because I have an UPS on my computer stuff, as well as an UPS on the fiber Internet connection, my game signal was not disrupted, but my brain sure was.

In my surprise, I somehow managed to dismount and cast Pain Suppression on her.  (Probably dismounted by hitting the Pain Suppression button.)  As I almost never use Levitate, my fingers fumbled around and didn't manage to locate the appropriate button before she hit the ground.

"Oh, great," I thought, "Splat."

Suddenly an achievement notification box popped up:  "Going Down?"

In amazement, I saw that she was alive, if barely, thanks to, well, Pain Suppression.  Then the ludicrousness of the situation got to me, and I burst out laughing.

It's not every day you totally lose your mind and manage to get an achievement in the process.

Failure of Leadership

Last night, I failed as a leader.

We had a new recruit--a melee dps--who was friendly and eager to fit in with the guild.  He had been open, talkative, willing to share pictures on the guild forum, and so forth.  Perhaps he was trying a little too hard, but at least he was trying.

This weekend, he decided to post on his usually dead class section of the forum with some information on tanking.  One guild member almost immediately followed with something to the effect of "Haha, dps player teaches you to tank."  I recognized that as a juvenile response, but sometimes forums are like that, so I didn't worry about it.

What crossed the line was when that guild member and one other harrassed him about it in guild chat.  Right away, I whispered the first instigator, telling him that at least the recruit had posted, and if he wanted to teach it, he could post, himself.  He did not respond to me, although he did stop typing in chat.

Where I failed was in not calling out the harrassers publicly in guild chat.  If I had done so, the recruit would have known he was not alone, and it would have set an example for any other guild members who might feel inclined to join in the harrassment activity.  (I suspect there may have been more which I did not witness.)  The message would have been clearly sent that harrassment of other members is not tolerated in our guild.  (As we are stating in our policies.)  In trying to be sensitive to the feelings of the wrongdoer, I failed to address the needs of the harrassed.

This is something for which I should have drawn from my experience as a mother.  When one daughter gets upset at another and puts her down, especially in front of other other sisters, I do get on her case in full hearing of all, for similar reasons.  The girls need to know that denigrating a sister is not tolerated, and the sister needs to know that Mom is defending her right to be treated fairly.  (Any root issues are addressed separately.)

But recently, there was a misunderstanding in guild by which I allowed myself to be hurt and become a little gun-shy.  I was afraid of appearing over-bearing in trying to encourage members to be courteous with each other, and so I did not do as much as I was first inclined to do.  This was wrong of me.  I needed to get over it and recognize that what is right to do is right to do, no matter the reactions of other people.  (Hey, I'm a Mormon; doing what I believe is right despite the reactions of others is something I have had to live with my entire life.  You'd think I would be immune by now.)

Shortly afterward, the recruit left the guild.  While I understand the first few weeks in a guild are a trial period, intended to allow both the guild and the recruit to decide on the fitness of the match, I feel I could have done more to help this recruit integrate into the guild.  I especially regret having a recruit leave under the cloud of mistreatment from other guild members, as it is a point of pride that our guild habitually treats members with patience and courtesy.

Leaders must have the courage to stand up and be ready to take bullets, if necessary.  I did not, and there was a price paid.

To the credit of the initial instigator, he did return to the forums and delete his post, as well as apologize to the recruit who had left.  This was good on his part, and shows his heart is essentially in the right place, but the damage had already been done.

A WoW Mom

When my youngest daughter was three, I was not a raider.

That doesn't mean, however, that I did not have a goal in Vanilla WoW.  At the time, I was trying to gain enough rank at battlegrounds to allow me to purchase an inexpensive swift riding mount.  (Having decided I would never be able to earn enough gold to outright purchase one . . .)

Anyone who has ever tried for this goal knows it was one which took a lot of time--much more than I could accomplish by following my normal patten of only playing in the evenings.  But I was a stay-at-home mom, and no battleground queue ever ran below 10 minutes, so with the support of my family, I felt I could do it.

And so I did.  I queued, then set the timer on my watch so I would know when it was time to turn off the vacuum and return for the bg invitation.  I ran ten-minute Arathi Basins over and over until my Alterac Valley queue would come up (took an hour and a half; we could queue for more than one thing at the time), then start all over after AV.

My kids were pretty computer-game savvy by this time, including my three-year-old, who was a proficient mouser and could play games for young children on the kids' computer.  But when it wasn't her turn, many times she would sit on my lap during a battleground run, where she hit the space bar over and over to make my regular speed mount jump.  The two of us had great fun together, me holding my littlest girl, giving her kisses, and her controlling some aspect of my game.  (If you don't think children love anything which gives them some kind of control over something the adults are doing, you don't know children very well.)

One day, I made the mistake of mentioning this in /bg.

I received the most scathing condemnation in return from a player who told me I was a poor excuse for a mother and should never have given birth.  (After all, I was "making" my three-year-old sit on my lap while I played WoW.)  It stung, even though I knew it was not true.

The lesson I learned from this is that there were misconceptions about mothers who might play WoW, so it was best to not mention anything about it.

The recent production "The Guild" doesn't help this much.  One character in the show is a mother of young children who habitally locks them out of her computer area with a child safety gate.  There are images of the children standing behind or hanging on the gate, crying for their mother, while she chatters on Vent.  She is portrayed as being very negligent in her role as mother, going so far as to leave her children in the toy section of a store while she meets in a nearby restaurant with her guildies.

There may be mothers like that, but I have not met any of them.  The mothers I know in WoW are very careful to take care of their children.  If you see them standing around in Dalaran and try to /whisper them, you may not get an answer back, because they have gone to the kitchen to feed their children or they are sitting on the floor, working a puzzle with their two-year-old.  They may have left to get some housework finished, as I used to do in battleground queues.  Or they may choose to play only when their children are asleep.

I did make my battleground goal.  My kids cheered as loudly as I did when I finally showed them my rank and my new epic cat.  And then I stepped away to do other things.

Just Another Random Instance Story

The other day, my husband and I decided to run an instance together on his level 35 Druid tank and my level 30-something Holy priest. My husband had not played his bear much since the patch, when he discovered he had a difficult time with AoE threat. So he was a little leery, but decided to give it a try.

We queued and found ourselves heading to the Scarlet Monastery Armory wing, along with a Ret Pally, a mage, and one other dps. Somewhat predictably, as we started in the first hall, the dps did not wait for him to gain threat before opening up. Nobody died, but aggro was everywhere. I went through a large percentage of my mana pool on our way to the courtyard and asked for a mana break.

While drinking, I commented (nicely) to the dps that if they would wait for the tank to get aggro, I would not have to stop as often for mana, because I would usually only have to heal the tank.

The Ret pally said something unprintable for me (which did not get filtered by the profanity filter). At that point, I became so incensed, I told my husband we were leaving group, which we did. (Happened to be after he had pulled a pack . . .)

I know this story is hardly unusual, but it isn't often that someone makes me so mad I choose to leave group with no warning.  Poor players do not make me mad; I tolerate them as still learning.  Players who display overgrown egos do not make me mad; they just make me roll my eyes.  But players who treat others with extreme disrespect earn my contempt and a slot on my Ignore list.  It's not worth the stress putting up with them.