…than a bad instance run and that’s half a bad instance run.
I was grinding my tradeskills and minding my own business the other day when the following (not atypical) whispered conversation occurred:
T’other guy: Dude, fancy healing UK?
Me: I’m in Kargath and slightly ungeared.
T’other guy: Please man, it doesn’t matter, you’re our last hope. Please mate, please.
Me: Oh all right then.
Only with less literacy on his part, of course.
The inevitable sinking feeling sets in when it soon becomes apparent that nobody is willing to summon. Maybe I’m old fashioned but I think being in a position to summon the priest whose arm you have so recently twisted is basic good manners. Of course, as ever, in every parcel of dicks there’s also a prince. And, again as ever, in this instance it was the cow-drood who was standing politely by the stone awaiting a second. In the vaccuum of volunteering that followed, I ended up making the journey myself, being harrassed regularly en route for my ETA by the other members of the “team.”
The sinking feeling became positively Titanic when, two pulls in, the tank – a preppy paladin (oh aren’t they always?) – complained he wasn’t leader (W8 i’m tank) and, on being handed leadership, decided to exercise his leaderly authority by not marking. Oh sigh, sigh, a world of sighs. Furthermore, his opening conversational gambit was not what you might call encouraging:
Him: u have shite mana 4 a holy
Me: Why thank you.
Him: u shud have like 10k
Me: I’m slightly undergeared
Him: y u undergeared
Me: I’ve been questing in Nagrand, so I don’t have much Northrend gear yet.
Him: lol noob
Me: I like Nagrand. It’s cool.
Him: lol U still have shit mana.
Me: I think you’ll find it’s what I do with it that counts.
That was probably the point I should have fucked off but a vague sense of loyalty to the 2 not blisteringly incompetant DKs and the thoroughly sensible cow-drood induced me to put my priestly hissy fit on hold. Unfortunately, as well as being annoying, egotistically (and, as we shall come to later, a really terrible tank), the paladin also seemed to be suffering what I can only presume to be a sad case of amnesia. On my next mana break, he observed sagely:
Him: U have shite mana.
Me (with a feeling of crushing deja vu): Well you haven’t died yet.
Him: U shud have like 10k
Me: I know what’ll help. I’ll heal you less.
I used to work for a telephone helpline. No, not that sort of helpline. A mental health thing. Anyway, as I’m sure is probably the case with most volunteer run telephone services, we would occasionally receive abusive or otherwise obscene calls. The blatant ones (“I want to stick my Part A into your Slot B”) were easy enough to deal with because you just hung up. But you would occasionally get manipulative callers who would make a big deal of having a genuine problelm, yet their call would always hover just on the verge of falling into obviously abusive. It was incredibly difficult to hang up on such callers because there was always an uncertainty in your mind. What if this was a genuine caller? What if you were just being over-sensitive? Usually in such cases, you would enlist another volunteer, either to hang up for you, or support you in your decision to label the call as abusive and hang up.
The reason I mention this is because bad PUGs are like this. Unless there’s actually somebody next to say “Dude, that group is fucked, that guy is a wanker” you’re likely to put it down to yourself and cling on grimly on the off-chance it’ll get better and you’re just being over-sensitive.
So I clung. And it was grim.
And I should have hung up left the group. Trouble came when we encountered the first boss. Our Noble Leader decided that one of the DKs was going to off-tank the ads.
Strange … strategy … for … a … paladin … with … consecretate.
Cut a long story short: we all died except the fucking paladin. And the only reason he survived was beacuse the cow-drood in-combat rezzed me like the star he was and I managed to get a few major heals off before I died again, and got the paladin back up to full with a few HOTs on him thanks to Spirit of Redemption.
Our Gracious Leader: I rock! I’m awesome! I’m the best thing ever. I rock, you guys sucked, you all died, I rocked. I’m so awesome. Oh yeah. [splatter]
(Words to that affect, anyway. The splatter is to represent the bukkake-like culmination of the verbal wanking).
Now call me grumpy (but not Sneezy, Sleep, Dopey, Doc, Bashful and certainly not Happy) but I think if your entire party wipes except you, and you’re the tank, UR DOIN IT WRONG. The same thing happened on the next Boss fight … after which The Valiant Hero realised he was out of time and fucked off leaving us halfway through UK without a tank. What a great guy.