I don’t know why you say goodbye; I say hello.

I haven't been blogging because I've been focusing all of my WoW energy on my guild.

Surreality is in a precarious place right now. We lost a few members to Real Life: finals, family commitments, schedule changes, sports, even wife aggro. We have a healthy Friends & Family rank and are filling enough spots to manage 10/12 and even 11/12 clears each week, but we are still two or three players short of a solid progression team. It's been a few weeks since we made serious attempts on the Lich King ... and since nothing kills a raiding guild faster than not raiding, a small handful of our newer members have left in search of purpler pastures.

Needless to say, this has only compounded the problem.

I honestly don't know if we'll have the numbers to raid this week. If everyone shows up on Tuesday, we'll be fine; if anyone has a conflict, we won't be.

And yet, in spite of the lows, there have been highs, too. Thanks in no small part to the hunter formerly known as Elam, we are running two solid 10-man teams for the first time in our history. Both have cleared Icecrown Citadel several times on normal, and are now pushing hardmodes. (Blood Princes: 18 - Surreality: 0.) We have also picked up several new raiders, including an exceptional — and, by all accounts, sane! — holy paladin, a restoration shaman who blows my HPS out of the water, and a shadow priest who I want to shrink and keep in a jar.

There have been some fantastic late night conversations, too. For the first time since TBC, I find myself running mindless laps around Shattrath (I'm leveling a wee hunter through Outlands) and using WoW as a glorified chat engine: too tired to quest, but far too enthralled by the green text to call it a night.

At this point, we could go either way. We could recruit two or three or four new players to replace those we've lost and return with a vengeance, or we could continue to hemorrhage members until we are no longer able to raid at all. I'm hoping for the former, while quietly preparing myself (emotionally!; I have no intentions of looking outside Surreality for a home!) for the latter.

The late-night crew is full of encouragement. We've been together for almost three years and gotten through low points before, as the same spirit of community and camaraderie that keeps me up far too late at night also keeps us going, in spite of periodic setbacks. We've addressed the few divisive issues, such as our chronic inability to field two 10-man raids, and emerged stronger as a result. And, as Elam points out — with the notable exception of the holy paladin we lost to hockey — everyone we've been forced to replace, we replaced with someone who was either a stronger player or a better fit for our guild or both. "I wouldn't stress too much," he texted me this morning. "There are people who are loyal and people who will switch guilds when it's convenient. We're steadily growing the former."

I hope so. I really, really hope so. There is no game without the guild for me, and there is no guild without the people I've come to consider friends.

Surreality: Uniting Geeks and Losers since 2007!

Surreality has a new tagline!  /dance

If you've been following me for any length of time, then you know I met my fiance in Heroic Underbog.  (And yes, I am still tempted to name the head table at our wedding reception "Zangarmarsh" as a result!)  However, our guild — and, more specifically, leading it — is what really brought us together. 

Apparently, the Chain Lightning strikes twice.  (Okay, technically — thrice.  Shut up.  This is my brie-laden analogy, thankyouverymuch.)

Last night, at the beginning of our weekly foray into Icecrown Citadel, our caustic warrior tank and perpetually sunny guild bard (the Brazilian mage who never fails to serenade Surreality to victory!) announced their engagement.

And guess where they met?

Serpentshrine Cavern, circa 2008.

I'll admit, I'm kind of giddy.  And not just because I consider them both friends, and am fantastically happy that they've found each other (and, like Keaton and I, crossed international boundaries to do so).  I'm totally tickled by the idea that my little guild — which started as a haven for a few friends and family members on the virtual cesspool that is Black Dragonflight — has led to not one but two lifelong partnerships. 

It's really kind of amazing.

(Also, for the record: the happy couple coined the tagline so I'm insulting neither of them when I respost it!)

Emo shaman is emo.

After all of the 10-man raid drama Surreality has experienced over the course of the expansion, we finally bit the bullet and split our achievement team into two groups — possibly three, depending upon how tonight's pick-up/alt run turns out. 

... And when I say "we," I actually mean Annah, because he totally took charge of making two groups happen.  The guild didn't exactly make it easy on him: we seem to have a collective aversion to using our forum as anything other than a glorified Photobucket, so Annah tracked every last raider down in-game and then created a massive Excel spreadsheet to track everyone's interest in, and availability for, off-night raids. 

See?  There's a reason this man has a legendary!

As for the raids themselves?  They went basically okay.  The teams weren't quite as balanced as we had hoped: the Saturday afternoon group cleared Icecrown Citadel through the Blood Princes, but failed to down Blood Queen Lana'thel in the ten attempts we had remaining after investing five of our fifteen alloted wipes on Putricide.  Meanwhile, the Sunday group one-shot both encounters.

In hindsight, the main difference between the teams was one part healing — the Saturday group ran two raid healers (myself and a holy priest), while the Sunday group ran two main healers (a paladin and a dual-specced holy/disc priest), in addition to a hybrid elemental/restoration shaman as a potential third — and one part DPS, as the Sunday group had the stronger ranged team. 

Keaton, who tanked for the Sunday group, mentioned that the tips I was feeding him from Saturday's run saved his team a few wipes as well.  I guess they adopted our strategy for Council and two shot it with three healers.  We wiped several times while experimenting with different combinations of tanks... and wiped a couple of more times as we learned how to two-heal it.  (Which I am actually quite proud of, by the way.  I was assigned to heal our warrior MT as he tanked two of the Princes.  I screwed up two or three times before I hit my stride and managed to find a happy balance between big and little heals.  Keeping Coffer alive and making my mana last the entire fight was the most challenging thing I've done since two-healing Tribute to Insanity with Annah.)

At the end of the day, I'm glad we were able to include more people in the 10-man runs.  Truly, I am.  At the same time, I'm a little disappointed that my group turned out to be the "B"-team this week ... and even more disappointed that in order to make two raids happen, I not only had to sacrifice the one selfish thing I do every week, but I also had to give up the opportunity to play with my fiance.  

For what it's worth — and, honestly, it's worth a lot because Annah arranged it with my feelings in mind (seriously? how many guys do that?!) — it was supposed to be temporary: I am officially assigned to heal the Sunday run, and made a last-minute sub to the Saturday team to cover an absence.  Of course, when I did that, I realized that without me, the Saturday team wouldn't have had a shaman for Bloodlust.  I don't think that will be a huge issue in the future, but for now, when the content is new, a little raidwide haste at a crucial moment goes a long way.

We may shuffle things around once the third run is rostered in order to get me back on Keaton's team, but for now, we're split between the Saturday and Sunday runs.  So instead of celebrating my guild's success — even if the Saturday group wasn't quite as successful, it still downed Putricide and sampled Blood Queen, which will go a long way towards 25-man progression — I find myself somewhat resentful of it. 

I don't think it would be so bad if Keaton and I weren't already struggling to maintain a long-distance relationship.  (And it is, at times, a struggle.)  Since we only manage to see each other in the real world every three or four months for a week or two at a time, WoW has become the way we connect.  It's the one hobby we share that can bridge the geographical distance between us and make us feel almost as if we're in the same room.

We spend three nights a week with our guild, organizing and leading 25-man raids.  I don't think it's too much to ask for one night a week to play together in a more intimate setting, with several of the people we have known online for years and come to cherish as friends.  If it were a date night, no one would begrudge us the time away.  But since it's online, everyone stakes a claim.  After all of the time and effort and money we invest in Surreality, the flak we take for making time for each other strikes me as cruelly unfair.

The epic post that wasn’t.

I should be writing an epic blogpost about our eleventh hour triumph over Professor Putricide.  

It was set up so perfectly:

One unsuccessful attempt remaining before retreat?  Check.

Trash respawns 15 minutes before the raid was scheduled to end?  Check.

Twenty-five players eager to press on anyway?   Check.  (And much <3 to you for that, Surreality!)

All three tanks with glyphed taunts, to prevent another string of unfortunate late Phase 3 resists?  Sigh.  Check.

A near flawless Phase 1, with masterfully controlled starts and stops?  Check.

An even nearer-to-flawless P2?  Check.

Every single raider alive(!) with no slimes active(!!) going into Phase 3(!!!)?  Check.

The dramatic last second kill?  

...

... ...

... ... ... ...

... ...

...

Try: our third sub-1% wipe of the evening (which would have been heartbreaking enough if an earlier attempt hadn't taken us within 28K lousy HP of a victory).  As Elamism points out, that's one kill shot. 

(Fucking hunters.  Do work!)

I love this fight.

But I hate it.  So.  Hard.

... Still, I'm not quite as discouraged as Stumpy.  Don't worry, Stumpy!  The Plagueworks is merely a setback.

Finally, a DPS race!

We one-shot the Lower Spire last night but didn't quite manage to down Rotface — which I'm actually thrilled about.  No one likes wipes or repair bills for their own sake, but finally coming up against a fight that we couldn't master in one night?  Awesome.

... Heroic Anub'arak doesn't count, by the way.  >.>  We run exactly one block-capable tank, and he seems to be vacationing in Rio or — inexplicably — North Dakota every other weekend.

Anyway, I imagine Rotface will fall fairly quickly tonight, and then it will be on to Festergut: the first real DPS race we've encountered since hard-mode Assembly of Iron.  I'm really, really looking forward to it — not because I can't wait to win Recount (I'm a healer :p), but because it will force a hard DPS threshold on a handful of consistently underperforming raiders.

See, I'm one of those soft-hearted guild leaders who thinks effort matters.  Still can't break 5K DPS on a stationary fight?  Don't worry about it.  Just try harder.  Moar and Azargoth and Neville will carry you.  /pat

But on Festergut?  On Festergut, my consolatory "E" for Effort can very easily become a one-way ticket to Group 6.  Barely edging ahead of the tank?  Sorry.  Log some time with the target dummies and try again next week — if I haven't replaced you by then.

... I sound awful, don't I?  No, don't lie: I know I do.  It's just that after months of feeling obligated to carry people simply because I can (and because I like them; I genuinely like everyone in my guild — even the rogues, although if anyone asks, I'll deny it), I'm relieved to have an excuse to stop that won't make me feel mean.

The Latus Guide to Leading Raids

Latus the Goat only has three readers — by his count.  (Personally, I think he may be underestimating his appeal!)  Of course, since I'm one of them (/tar Latus /wave), that means only two other people are going to see his excellent Guide to Leading Raids. 

Now that, my friends, is abhorrent. 

In my seldom humble opinion, Latus's guide should be required reading for all guild leaders, raid leaders, and anyone who has ever cast three little letters (l, f, m) into the Nether and prayed for a response.

My favorite point (and one that my guild could definitely stand to improve on):

• Don’t single people out after a wipe.  Unless you’re a really hardcore guild, this is not something you want to do.  The people who made mistakes know it.  Singling them out over vent or raid chat is going to make them feel awful.  People who feel awful, or embarrassed, will often not come back to your raids.  You want to encourage your group, not insult it.  If a situation requires addressing, speak to the person privately, or give it a general announcement over vent… “Let’s make sure to pay more attention to the dark orbs on the right side of the room please, more got through than we can handle.”  That doesn’t blame anyone specifically, but it lets the people there know they did the mistake (which they probably knew already), and it lets the raid as a whole know that you did notice it and you are addressing it or will do so if it persists.

Now, our raid leader believes as Latus does.  I've never seen Keaton single anyone out after a wipe.  On the contrary, I've heard him advise against it for very similar reasons.  Typically, Keaton addresses "areas of improvement" publicly and in broad terms, while I deal with specific issues in whispers (which often surprises people; the public criticism is so open-ended that those players who receive my private follow-through are often taken aback). 

Unfortunately, while we follow Latus's advice ourselves, we do tend to be rather permissive when it comes to others.  After all, if criticism isn't coming from a guild leader (/airquotes), then it isn't "official" and doesn't count — right?

Wrong.  WrongWrongWrong.

In order to create a supportive raid environment, officers must not only lead by example, but also ensure that their values are shared by the rest of the raid — or, at least, by those vocal enough to make an impact.  After all, it isn't always enough for the nominal raid leader to be upbeat and positive: one abusive or overly critical voice in the raid can ruin the experience for everyone.

25 divided by 10.

Surreality is a 25-man raiding guild.  Period.  Dot.

... and yet there is a relatively small group of us who have been running 10-man content on offnights since the era of Zul'Aman bear runs.  Several of us have changed mains since then, and a few have dropped out and been replaced, but the heart of the group remains the same: Keaton (druid), Coffer (warrior) and Ouchilicious (DK) trade tanking duties, while Korev (paladin), Annah (priest) and I heal.  Our DPS typically consists of Ignus (rogue), Neville (mage), the Superforsaken Azargoth (warlock) and Moar (lolret), with one wildcard spot open for the best available DPS from /guild.  Sometimes it's Elam; more often, we give the nod to group composition and choose someone who buffs our casters — a critchicken or elemental shaman — or a hunter, which was the case last night.

The five or six of us who were in the team's first incarnation spent two full months racing the timers in Zul'Aman before we saw our first Amani War Bear.  Our first few attempts were awful.  We'd full-cleared ZA in the past, of course, and considered Zuljin more or less on "farm" — but when it came to the timed events, we despaired of ever rescuing that third prisoner, let alone the fourth.  Still, we kept at it, and eventually learned to play to our strengths: running three tanks instead of the usual two, which effectively eliminated downtime by allowing us to chain pull the entire instance.  Five months and thousands of gold in repairs later, all ten members of our team had bear mounts and we were able to start farming them for other members of our guild.

We retired ZA the week 3.0 came out and remained on hiatus through the first few months of Wrath, since some of us were faster to 80 than others.  Those who made it level cap first started a new 10-man team, and those who took a little longer formed a second.  Eventually, the guild's interest in Naxx10 waned, and our original group reformed with an eye towards clearing some the early endgame's de facto hard modes.  We struggled with The Undying, and came within a few harrowing percent of the achievement on two separate occasions before finally managing a flawless clear.  Obsidian Sanctum was an even bigger challenge for us, but after a solid month of attempts, we eventually defeated Sartharion with all three Twilight Drakes active.  Glory of the Raider was ours!

With 3.1 came a new challenge.  We hit Ulduar hard and fast: for a while, we were ranked Horde-side third in terms of 10-man progression.  Eventually, the pressure of running concurrent 10 and 25 man raids took its toll, and we stopped attempting 10-man hard modes consistently.  It wasn't until two weeks ago that we went back to Ulduar to finish Glory of the Raider, v2.0, and two nights ago that I finally bullied the guys into a second go-round with Algalon.  (He trounced us — which means they're determined to see him down now, whereas before they simply didn't care.  Needless to say, this was my plan all along!)

We have also been working dilligently on Trial of the Grand Crusader.  Last night, we defeated Anub'arak with 49 attempts remaining.  If it hadn't been for an unfortunate lag spike, which caused four of our raiders — including our off-tank — to freeze in place for about 10 seconds at the beginning of Phase 3, we would have achieved Tribute to Insanity.

All in all, we've been very successful.  We have also become close — rather like a family, insofar that we laugh and joke and occasionally fight amongst ourselves, but always work through the issues and emerge stronger as a result.

I'm marrying one member of my 10-man team, and at least four of the others are planning to be there.  It's an awesome group, in game and out, and I feel privileged to be a part of it.

The catch (there's always a catch!) is that only 10 players at a time can be part of it — a fact that doesn't always sit well with my 25-man raiding guild.  My 10-man team has been a source of intermittent tension since late TBC.  To those who are in it, it represents an opportunity to play with friends outside of the more regimented 25-man raid environment.  To those who aren't, it feels exclusive and cliquish.

I can see both sides. 

On one side, you have nine people who have been playing together for over a year and have bonds that transcend the game, including two pairs of real life friends and one real life couple.  We are committed to each other and invested in the group as a whole.  We have spent countless hours /played wiping on new content — collaborating on, strategizing about and eventually overcoming shared challenges.  Most of us are guild officers; all of us are active in leading 25-man raids.  We put in a ton of time, effort and real money supporting the guild as a whole ... so why shouldn't we be able to raid together on offnights?  Why should we feel guilty for refusing to split up to relearn content we've come close to mastering on our own for the benefit of others (many of whom weren't interested in hard modes until we started spamming /guild chat with achievements)? 

If we chose to spend offnights doing things in real life, no one would begrudge us the time away from the guild.  But because we spend our free time together online, our members feel entitled to participate and are often resentful when we aren't willing or able to accommodate them.

On the other side, we are all members of the same guild, working towards the same overarching goal: 25-man progression.  Our team monopolizes the guild's three main-spec tanks as well as its best off-spec tank , which forces others to enlist alts or PuG in order to fill a 10-man group.  If we were willing to split up, or —  even better! — take an active role in organizing multiple ToGC teams, then more of our members who have the opportunity to gear up and practice hardmodes outside of a less forgiving 25-man raid environment.

The issue is further complicated for me, personally, because I have good friends who are in the guild but not in my 10-man team.  As committed as I am to our little group of nine-plus-one, I am also deeply invested in the guild as a whole.  Surreality is my creation and I feel responsible for everyone who clicks "Accept" to my /ginvite — from the Friends & Family who will in all likelihood never raid, to the casual Members who fly in circles around Icecrown hoping for an opportunity to sub in, to the Raiders I count among our core.

So, yes, I can see both sides.  It's reconciling them that has always been the challenge.