standing at the back in my sissy robe

July 31, 2009

Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax

Filed under: Hemo,UR Doing It Wrong,World Beyond My Naval — Tamarind @ 11:27 am

As the title should indicate, this entry is a jumble of stuff.

Queen Susan’s Guardian Spirit

Since I may be 5-manning regularly (fingers crossed!) I’ve been thinking about my healing, and generally engaging in mild fits of hemo. I’m pretty rusty to be honest. Intellectually I know what I’m doing but what’s missing is that instinctive, muscle-memory, second nature kind of confidence. But that’ll come back with time and practice. I hope.

The bulk of my hemo at the moment is reserved for my persistent crapitude with Guardian Spirit. I did a quick search through the archives of World of Matticus and The Egotistical Priest to make sure I was, in fact, neglecting an important tool in my arsenal. I’ve found that very occasionally the reason you can’t seem to deploy something effectively is because it’s not very effective in the first place (why, hello living bomb, fancy meeting you here). But, no, the problem is definitely me. The consensus of Greater Minds Than Mine is that Guardian Spirit is amazing

The problem with Guardian Spirit, for me, is not the mechanics of it (40% increase to healing, get out of death free card, sign me up!), it’s the psychology. And by “the psychology”, you understand, I mean “my neuroses.” It’s active for 10 seconds, and it’s on a 3 minute cool down. It functions very much as a “ohmyfuckinggod” button, which is like an “ohshit” button but worse. It’s for the moment when you have one of those blinks that last forever and when you look again the tank is on 10% health. Aieeee!

But here are the associated issues:

1) The 40% healing increase means that the Death Save very rarely occurs – which, on some level, makes you feel as though you’ve ‘wasted’ your Guardian Spirit. Yes, yes, I know this is stupid.

2) The fact that you only ever use it when something has gone horribly wrong means it’s always associated with a sense of failure and panic. Essentially it’s an ability with a negative feedback loop.

3) That 3 minute cooldown means I never use it nearly as much as I should because I’m always thinking “wait, what if there’s an EVEN WORSE emergency in, say, 2 and a half minutes time.”

4) I’m always scared of using it on somebody other than the tank because, again, I start angsting about snatching it from the lips of starving children … I mean … I get myself all knotted up over the possibility squandering something on the DPS (sorry) that might be needed by the tank.

5) Whenever I look back over a fight, I can always see, with the clarity of retrospect, about a hundred and one possible moments when Guardian Spirit could have been used to great effect. But whenever I’m actually in the middle of a fight, there’s never an emergency that feels quite bad enough to merit its use.

This is why Guardian Spirit is the Queen Susan’s horn of healing.

And the way to get over Queen Susan’s horn anxiety is simply to blow the thing as much as possible.

Is it me, or is this analogy getting more lewd by the sentence?

But what I’m trying to say is this: my new self-imposed healing assignment is to use my fucking Guardian Spirit, instead of drenching it in hemo. I’m also going to invest in the Glyph of Guardian Spirit, which reduces the cooldown from 3 minutes to 1 minute if the Get Out of Death Free card isn’t triggered. I think that will help overcome some of my issues.

Not The Sharpest Pig in the Box

We haven’t had nearly as much time as we’d like to devote to the DGC of late (given all the nonsense that’s going around about game addiction, we’re paying a bit of attention to a healthy life-WoW balance) but Rosencrantz has a new pig. Alas poor Yorick, you did not last. I am a shockingly fickle pig owner, I feel almost guilty about it. I’m limping down the beast mastery tree (possibly with my eye towards a fuck off enormous dinosaur of my very own … I will love it and hug it and call it Reginald) and it strikes me that it’s a slightly emotionally counter-intuitive tree. Like most people interested in hunter pets, I have a tendency to invest in my animals. You give them a ridiculous name, you start to ascribe them a personality, and, suddenly, bam you’re engaged in all sorts of absurd behaviour, like fishing for what you’ve arbitrarily decided is their favourite fish or waiting for them to catch up with you if you’ve jumped off a ledge and going to absurd lengths to stop them dying in combat.

When Comfrey (my druid) was levelling with his cowfriend Doriff (not to be confused with Cowfriend), Doriff’s first pet was a tiny tiny, entirely bog standard, not even ornery plainstrider we named Clucksworthy. And although Doriff’s eye would occasionally wander in the direction of turtles and raptors, I’d always guilt trip him back into the arms (wings?) of Clucksworthy because, by that time, Clucksworthy felt like part of the family. Players actually occasionally used to lol us in the street because we looked so silly. 2 enormous level 60 cows with this incredibly small and crappy looking chicken. But Clucksworthy tanked a dragon, I’ll have you know. He was valiant, we shall not see his like again.

But the Beast Master tree seems to be all about the acquisition of MOAR pets, as well as, of course improving the pets you have. But I think if you’re the sort of person who specs beast mastery, maybe you’re also the sort of person who is likely to cleave to a single pet. Recognising this early on, I tried to foster in myself a love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude to pigs. The consequence of which is that Rosencrantz is a rampant pigtart. Seriously. I’ve had, like, 3 in about as many levels.

His first pig was Empress, a small crag boar from Dun Morogh.

And then he upgraded to Yorick, a pig marked for tragedy if ever there was one, an mountain boar from Loch Modan.

And, most recently, a mangy mountain boar, also from Loch Modan, he named Boracchio (gettit? Boar….rachio… sorry)

The happy thing about being pigfickle is that they’re all subtly different pigs. Boracchio, who is my favourite (they’ve all been my favourite, by the way, for the short span of time I’ve had them), is definitely looking at bit worse for wear. It’s the mange, and the battle scars, I guess… I also like the way the pigs move and snuffle around when they’re not running, squealing joyously, into battle.

Except there’s something up with Boraccio. I was watching him lovingly the other day, with paternal pride, and, I swear to God, he fell over. My mighty battle hog FELL OVER. He face-planted into the sward.

...

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Is it swine flu? Or rabies? Or what?

Friday Links of Loveliness!

It’s been such a fun week for WoW blogging. The shared topic from Blog Azeroth has led to some thoroughly delightful nostalgia trippin. I’ve really enjoyed every post on the subject of I’ve read but I’ve especially loved:

Spinks on the eye-opening rampant insanty if the Thunderfury, Taz on, errr, well … modesty issues in Outland (how I giggled) and Pewpewlazerz (whose blog I have only recently discovered, and I guess should count as my “Have I Been Blogging Under a Rock” entry for this week), whose defence of the old world makes me want to attempt Molten Core right now. And probably get humiliatingly taken apart but, hey…

Vaguely in-keeping with the nostalgia-theme, there’s a lovely post over at Magic and Madness about Reasons to Keep Playing when your enthusiasm founders and your heart doesn’t seem to be in it. I think it’s in the nature of WoW to lead you through peaks and troughs and so remembering what you love about the game is important during the troughs.

I also stumbled across an utterly charming post over at Dreambound Druid about Boo the prairie dog (I won’t say more, just go read it, it’s the cutest thing in the world, especially for a Baldurs Gate fan)

On a more general note, I’m digging Priest With a Cause. Lots of thoughtful, insightful and nicely whimsical posts over there – I especially enjoyed this lament for the tragic fate of the island shoveltusks.

Absent friends missed:Krizzlybear

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July 30, 2009

And gentlemen in Azeroth now-a-bed, shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here

Filed under: Hemo,Sweets for the Sweet,Vainglory — Tamarind @ 4:12 pm

M’Pocket Tank and I finally, finally, finally 2-manned Onyxia. Oh yeah! Down with you, my lady (and, no, I don’t say that to all the girls). She’s handed us our arses crispy friend the last time we tried and, truthfully, it took us another 3 attempts to perfect our technique. But we got there in the end.

It helped that I purchased a shadow wand on the AH before we went in, which increased my average damage from 3 (yes 3) per hit to around 250 per hit. Okay, so I’m never going to top a DPS meter with that but it still represents a significant improvement over stabbing her in the toenail to death with a lollypop stick. 2-manning Onxyia for a tankadin and holy priest is basically a fight of attrition: damage is much less important, (as long as you’re doing slightly more 3 per hit admittedly) than survivability. Phase 2 was always the sticking point for us. We’d get burned, overwhelmed, and usually I’d run out of mana, before we could whittle her health from 64% to 40%, which is what it takes to induce her to land again.

For our first attempt this time round, we thought I should concentrate on DPSing in an effort to get out of phase 2 a quickly as possible. This turned out to be a really stupid strategy because I ran out of mana and then Ony slabbered us mockingly. Once I was re-assigned from primary DPS to keeping everyone alive, we did much better. By now, I was getting really good at dodging fireballs and M’Pocket Tank was whelp collector extraordinaire. We were feeling pretty positive, all things considered. Until I mis-positioned and got Onyxia’s breath attack full in the face. Would you like fries with your chargrilled priest? So much for over-confidence.

On our third attempt we remembered M’Pocket had a fire resistance aura, which meant that the breath attack had a slightly better chance of not one-shotting me instantly if I screwed up. The bottom of my cape got a bit singed but I managed to run in mostly the right direction during the breath attacks this time round. Yay! Between causing damage, avoiding fireballs, keeping health topped up, collecting whelps, and not having our faces melted, we somehow got it all together and we romped into Phase 3. From there, it was easy. Victory, precious 18 slot bags, and a cavalcade of now useless epics were ours. Ours!

I’m so glad we did it, and before 80 as well.

I’m actually significantly less well-equipped than I was the last time we took a shot at Onxyia, due to the idiot-disenchants-all-his-stuff fiasco. The ironic thing is that I’m poorly geared but what I do have is incredibly well augmented. Normally I don’t bother with enchanting or gemming while levelling because you know you’re going to discard Sanguine Robe of the Cold Whale for Upbeat Tunic of the Chilly Dolphin 10 minutes down the line anyway. But in order to compensate for the general shiteness of my equipment, everything that can be enchanted is enchanted, everything that can be gemmed is gemmed – and all the very best my meagre resources can manage. The WoW Gods are laughing at me. I can hear them.

In other news, I’m currently grinding rep for the Guild Killer title, having joined yet another inevitably doomed guild. It was entirely an Act of Whimsy on my part but since I have had equal misfortune with Acts of Whimsy and Acts of Research, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The Prettiest Elf was messing around in Hellfire Peninsula a few days ago when a message went over General that made my mustachios stand on end and my monocle jump right out of my eye.

This was the message:

Excuse me, but has anyone seen a fel reaver recently, please?

Astonishing, isn’t it? Full sentence. Punctuation. Deployment of the word ‘please.’. Will wonders never cease?

As it so happened I had seen a fel reaver recently so I whispered back with directions.

“Thanks so much” came the reply.

And I thought that was that, day brightening, assuredly, but fleeting.

An hour or so later, a recruitment message went out over the chat channels. I didn’t really pay much attention, other than to note it was at least moderately coherent, but then I recognised the name. It was the polite person! I whispered for more information which is usually the point at which the recruiter devolves in a blithering moron before your very eyes but we had a perfectly nice and perfectly sensible conversation about the guild and its aspirations, so Tam and M’Pocket Tank signed up. It’s a very small, starting guild and it may crash and burn, in tears and politics and ineptitude, within a week but who knows?

Our interactions thus far have been broadly positive. Also the spread of levels is quite varied. Usually when you join a new guild there are 80s and 20s and nothing in between, so being in your mid-70s is a sad and lonely experience. We boast a handful of 70s, M’Pocket Tank and I at the highest end of them, making us the default heavy hitters, which is a bizarre feeling since normally we are normally useless newbies.

And the other thing that gives me a strange fluttering sensation that may, dangerously, be hope is an already evident culture of willingness to do “group things.” Polite Person confided that she wanted to do “everything” hinting at a WoW temperament to match my own.

Since, M’Pocket Tank and I were headed there anyway, we did a guild run of MagT (non-heroic) last night. Of course, we had no excuse not to succeed, M’Pocket Tank and I being 78 a piece, and the rest of the team ranging between levels 70 and 75. But it’s still an unforgiving instance, and it felt like an accomplishment, in developing a sense of guild unity if nothing else.

I find guild runs rather nervous-making. If you’re with a dreadful PUG you can just spit curses and exit stage left in high dudgeon and, perhaps, a puff of red smoke. But there’s a sense of investment in a guild run. Ideally you want a situation in which nobody thinks anybody else is an arse. And whereas in a PUG I have no compunction whatsoever in saying “You see that act of gross stupidity in which you’re currently engaged? No, I don’t mean your life, I mean having your pet on aggressive in an instance, or using deathgrip to pull off the tank, or using misdirect onto the mage, or whatever else it is you’re doing. Stop it please, and right now, or there’ll be no healz for you.” But if you’re running with your new guild you don’t really want to behave that way. Ideally you want to form good relationships with these people, not piss them off.

Thankfully, everyone was moderately competent, and it was genuinely fun. I’d temporarily forgotten the joy of the 5-man, but now I’m full of enthusiasm again. And I don’t think I was an arse, although I did end up, de-facto, leading the run. If I’d known I’d have prepared better but at the very least I could still remember vaguely how to handle the bosses from the last time I did MagT. I didn’t heal especially well, however, because I was too busy overseeing strategy, spotting issues and angsting. We made a big mess of Priestess Delrissa because the DPS leapt off their leashes too early, and we ended up in a bloody ruck right between the pillars for maximum LOS inconvenience. I managed to heal through it (somehow, although I nearly killed myself a bunch of times) but afterwards I was debating whether or not to say something and, in the end, I did. I was super-fluffy about it (not my usual style at all) but nobody spat in my face and the DPS really did make an effort to contain themselves during future pulls, which made our progress much smoother.

I feel quite strange about leading runs. Unless you’re a group of friends who know each other really well, I think you do need someone to do it. And the problem with thinking that you need someone to do it is that it usually ends up being you. Still I suppose it’s better to be default-guy than the alternative. The few players I’ve encountered who actively want to lead runs, and be recognised as the person who is leading the run, tend to be exceptionally unpleasant people, committed to crushing the fun out of the game at every possible opportunity, and turning the rest of you into soul-less husks whose only function is to support their gameplay.

I think I tend to go too far the other way. We wiped on Kael a couple of times and I swear to God I turned into Henry V.

June 26, 2009

Guild Woes & posts that made me go hmmmm

Filed under: Hemo,World Beyond My Naval — Tamarind @ 11:38 am

This post comes in 2 parts: the first is me wailing and asking for help, the second is cool things from the blosphere.  Take yer pick.

Guild Woes

Firstly, I have killed yet another guild just by joining it.  Gah!  Okay, that’s not a piece of fairy cake, the universe does not revolve around me, but I have such a tortured guild history that I’m starting to think I might be carrying some kind of relapsing-remitting case of Guilditus and spreading it unwittingly around Emerald Dream.  I suppose I have only myself to blame.  Irresponsibly joining lots of guilds without proper protection…  Off to Leather Lane for a dip in mercury for me.

I’m actually a co-dependent player in that I never play by myself.  I think I’d go mad with loneliness, mining nodes alone in Desolace as the sun sets, weeping softly about how nobody loves me.  So I don’t per se need a guild, but I’d like one.  WoW is, after all, a social space.  And it would be nice if I could PUG less.  Of course, I’m frivolous and not level 80 so that rules out most of the more structured and serious guilds from the get go.

So I joined my first guild at around level 40 just to see what it was like – I basically took a punt on a random recruitment.  But the recruiter seemed nice and, as it turned out, she was nice (she still whispers me occasionally).  Unfortunately she turned out to be the only nice person in a guild that was otherwise comprised of wankers and idiots.  I went through a stage of trying to be quite active, arranging instance runs, helping people out when they needed it, and so and so on forth.  But then I discovered that, in some ways, running instances with guildies is far more dangerous than PUGing.  If you meet a bad player in a PUG, you can easily and happily never see them again, unless by sheer chance you happen to walk past them one day when they have the misfortune to be on fire and then you can ostentatiously neglect to piss on them.  But if people in your guild are objectionable in some way, you’re stuck with them. Forever.  In guild chat.  Until /gquit do you part.

So, feeling increasingly dissatisfied, my eye took to wandering, my head to turning.   And all it took was a chance PUG with a really rather lovely guy (a hunter who was not a huntard – our ancestors be praised!) to induce me to try a new guild.  And for a while, the future looked bright.  I had friends again, guild chat was lively and entertaining.  Although, gradually it got quieter … and quieter … and quieter … and then, for reasons still not entirely clear to me, there was a schism.  Dum dum duuhhhh!  The guild split asunder: into one guild for characters below level 60 and one for characters above level 60. I was recruited to the latter and it was really fucking boring.  We were all having exactly the same experience of the game, the level 80s were running heroics and grinding tradeskills, we were all spread out between 60, with the majority clustered at 80, so there was no point trying to organise any instances.  And I was under a lot of pressure to get to 80 because I was, at that point, their only healer.  It was crap, crap and crap.

So I left.

Third (or is it fourth?) time lucky, I thought to myself.  I shall do research.  On the internet.   So I found a guild that seemed nice, reasonably literate and had a quite explicit anti-boosting policy (yay).  I applied, joined … and less than a week after, for reasons I still don’t fully understand on account of being guild clueless, the guild combusted.  I think it was partially due to tension between the inner circle, all of whom had reached 80 at about the same time and succumbed to endgame ambition, and the rest of the guild who felt excluded and bored by all the endgame talk.   Lots of people left, the guild leadership changed, there was angst, woe and politics and, presumably, sex, lies and videotape by the bucketload.  And the dust is still settling. Ho hum.

I haven’t left yet, more out of apathy than loyalty.

Oh blogsphere, I can has advice, please?  I know the Be In A Guild Theory (be nice, do things for your guild, be active) but the actual practice of it seems well nigh impossible.

I don’t intend to leave as I’m sure finding another guild would be just as traumatic and tedious, and I’d rather be, err, part of the solution than part of the problem.  So, how can I, as a guild member, help this guild become functional again – how do I actually engage with it at all?

I’ve never felt particularly involved, to be honest, but I’ve only been in it a month, and all relationships take time.  When I first arrived, guild chat was dominated by the inner circle and they were very much preoccupied with end game content; I thought perhaps I’d have more to offer when I hit 80 (which again, kind of defeated the point of joining the guild in the first place). Also everyone has a lot of alts, and the assumption is that everyone knows everyone anyway, so it’s relatively hard for me to keep track.  I’m not quite sure how to deal with his, other than making a spreadsheet and pinning it my wall.  This is a step too far.

I’m polite when I arrive and I’m polite when I leave, and people are polite back, but that’s about as far as it goes.  I have a generic impression of a few people being “nice”.  I contribute to conversations when I feel I have something to say which, to be honest, isn’t very often – I don’t think I’m quite ready to traumatise these people with, y’know, me.  I’m not a naturally sweet or bubbly person.  As this blog attests, I’m sardonic, mean and slightly pretentious, although I try not to let it come across.

If people ask for help, I give it.  I’ve some engineering for low level guildies, I’ve healed one of the people I conceive of as being “nice” through a couple of quests.  “Nice” is so damning.  It’s a word you use fo rsomeone when you can’t think of any other way to describe them, but don’t have ny reason to dislike them.  I’ve tried to offer help (Tam is actually a pretty decent enchanter these days) but nobody particularly needs or wants it.   Oh, and I sent somebody some arcane dust.  Go me.

There aren’t any events I could attend. Well, there’s a retro Kara run this weekend which would be awesome but I’ve never been in a raid in my life so I’d probably be a liability.  And, of course, it’s a bunch of 80s, and we know how I feel about polishing my nails behind level 80 characters.  I very nearly made it to an RFC run (on an alt, obviously) the other night but between me offering the services of m’self and M’Pocket Tank, and them saying yes to both, and us unpacking out our alts, they’d gone and filled up one of the spaces so there was only room for me.  I could have told M’Pocket Tank to bog off again – and I suspect, being a friend, she would have obliged – but that would have involved being rude to someone I actually care about for the sake of people I might potentially care about in the future.

I suppose I should get off my arse and actually try to do something on my own account – organise an instance run, perhaps.  But I can’t quite shake the feeling something is going wrong somewhere.  Help?

Posts that made me go hmmmm

Anyway, I’ve talked about myself for long enough.  Here is some coolness from the blogsphere this week:

Awesome on toast from Frost is the New Black in this post on  shedding labels. It’s one of those “what they said” posts, where you point at it and nod a lot.

From a while ago now, the Hardcore Scale from Artisan Level.  Like everyone else, I’m getting a little tired of the endlessly raging hardcore/casual debate now but I like the idea that hardcore is not just a thing you either get or don’t have, but a continuum of of play.

Another wonderfully sensible post from Falling Leaves and Wings (I link her so often, I think I’m officially some kind of treedruid fanboy) on Learning to Say No.  Not actually being active in a guild (see above – alas!) means that I have far fewer problems with this kind of thing than others but I am still, to an extent, The Healer Who Can’t Say No.  All it takes a personal whisper from a passing random and I’ll be there, sissy robe at the ready, often when I don’t want to be and there is on the other side of the world.  It’s something I find especially difficult to deal with it when I’m playing a healer.  I suppose it’s partly because healers are reasonably difficult to find so you’re aware that saying no might just kill the run wholesale and partly because the act of healing is, arguably, a kind of “giving” anyway but I do find it almost impossible to turn down a request for healing.  You’d think I’d taken the bloody Hypocratic Oath or something.

I found this post on The Well-Bred PUG over at Wild Growth a very interesting read, I think because it’s very balanced and also, astonishingly generous.  The standard reaction to a PUG is, of course, zomg!disaster and, although her experience was obviously far inferior to the guild runs to which she was accustomed, she does a really good job of analysing the differences and the problems without condemning them.

Finally,  your Friday dose of sheer nepotism.  Here is Temi on why she’s not impressed by the Argent Tournament.

Enjoy!

May 27, 2009

hemo: emo for healers

Filed under: Hemo — Tamarind @ 8:45 pm

ZF used to be my nemesis.

It kicked our collective assi a bunch of times way back when, and this was when lots of my friends were playing WoW and I wasn’t self-harm PUGing in desperation.  It wasn’t even The Steps that did for us (which, by the way, are awesome, how could anyone not love The Steps), we were just dogged by silly trifles whenever we tried to take her down – like the Boss who didn’t drop any loot (fucker!), the time the healer (that would be yours truly) managed to get himself killed by scarabs (yes hah hah), the time the leader was explaining at great length why we should go carefully and not aggro Antu’sul until were completely ready to take him while the party rogue was skidding gleefully down a slope straight into his cave … and so on and so forth.  Our failure to take ZF, despite our otherwise competence, meant that even to this day I call her “that sandy bitch.”

Anyway.  ZF.   I have wronged you.  All is forgiven.

These days, I hate UK.

Not because of the instance itself – which is, well, I guess it’s okay and has drakes in it, but it isn’t massively inspiring if you ask me – but because I have no damn luck with it in the PUG department.

After the farrago of gah that inspired me to begin this blog in the first place, I had another unsuccessful run tonight.  And the worst of it was that it wasn’t a comedy bad run, not ye fireside tale of PUGs Gone Wrong.  It was just … utterly depressing, and even now I’m not entirely sure what went wrong with it.  As we all know, I’ve been messing around in Nagrand instead of going to Northrend (noob) so I’m slightly under-geared.  Slightly, he emphasizes defensively.  And I am just 70.  And the average of the group as a whole was probably something like 71.

The run started inauspiciously when I killed us all.

Yes, I admit it, my fault, entirely my fault, I played like a fool.  The group consisted of your humble narrator, a dk, two pallys and a mage.  So, two of us probably weren’t tanking…  I should probably have just piped up with “who’s tanking this” but I decided to be clever and effortlessly professional and work it out for myself.  So, there I was, busily inspecting the specs of the 2 pallys (one protadin, one retadin as it later turned out) when I became aware of unhappy noises emerging from my speakers.  Glancing up, I discovered we were oh shit in combat and about half of us were in a bad way.  Panicking, I hit CoH, followed by renew and flash heal on the guy I thought was tanking.  Except … wait … the other pally was the guy with the aggro.  Maybe I’d got the names or the specs confused and he was tanking.  So I started healing him instead.  There was a short, unpleasant game of pass the aggro in which I desperately tried to figure out which of them was supposed to be tanking.

And the short of it is: we all died.  And, ye Gods, did I feel crap.

While I apologized profusely, we had another go at it.  And this time I managed to perform my job except it was … really fucking difficult.  Painfully difficult.  I was burning through mana at an insane rate and even then it was actually on the very outer limit of possibility for me to keep the tank alive (I’d established who it was, this time – something I found peculiarly helpful).

The guy was seriously made of cheese.  Wet, floppy cheese.  A single hit would regularly knock him down to 50%.  What was going on?

I didn’t really have time to analyse it in the fraught few battles that followed. And by fraught I mean “fraught for me” – I don’t think anybody else even noticed anything was wrong.  If there was something wrong?

I couldn’t work out who was being crap.  Was it me?  Is it me?  I am just a crap healer?

Wah!

I was waving my arms and angsting so loudly that my Pocket Tank came over to see what all the fuss was about.  Given the pally didn’t even have Blessing of Sanctuary up, he is inclined to blame the tank.  Besides, regularly running out of your healer’s line of sight while they’re taking a mana break is just plain rude.

Somehow, I managed to stagger to Prince Keleseth.  “Are we getting the achievement” asked the DK, while I chugged back filtered water like I was trying to drown myself.  Blankness all round.  “Are we getting the achievement” raid-warned the Dk.  Or rather “achevmnt”.

Gratuitous use of a raid warning?  Straight to the 9th circle for you, my boy.

“Uh what?” I asked, eventually.

“Don’t break the ice.”

“Sure,” responded the pally.

“Uh, guys,” (me again) “I’m pretty sure that’s only for the heroic …”

But, oh look, we were in combat.  And, being made of cheese, the pally was both out of my line of sight and nearly dead.  I pulled him back from the brink only to be overwhelmed by the adds and torn to shreds.

Needless to say, losing your healer first thing in a boss fight = TPK.

Jogging back, I politely asked if there was anything we could perhaps do differently this time.

“Maybe no achievement this time, lol,” offered one of the interchangeable pallys.

“There is no achievement,” I return, with the patience of a school teacher or a saint, “it’s for the heroic only.”

Lols all round.  Great.

“So,” I try again, “different strategy perhaps?”  Not letting me die in the first seconds, maybe?  Just maybe?  Clues for everyone?

Pally: Just kill the mobs.

Me: Um, I’m the healer. It’s not really my strong point.

Someone else: Maybe one of us should gather them up and lead them to the tank?

Someone else: Or you could do your bit.

Me: I trying to do my bit but I can’t do my bit if I’m dead.

But it wasn’t worth arguing the point, and I had some pretty serious healer angst by now anyway.  After our second attempt – I managed to stay alive for about 2/3 of the fight this time but burned through my mana in half that  by having to keep basically the entire group (and myself) alive, one of whom was a fragile 69 level mage and one of whom, as we know, was wearing armor made of cheese – I decided it must be me, apologised and departed.

It was such an unsuccessful run that there must have been something going wrong somewhere.  Possibly we were all under-level and under-geared.  Possibly it was low level idiocy spread like nutella across the group as a whole.

Or maybe it was meeeeee.  Wah!

I haven’t felt quite so depressed by WoW for a while.

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