Ding! I’m 70. Actually, in World of Warcraft it’s more of a bwaahhrrouuuummm as opposed to a ding, but the latter is far easier to write. Regardless, after five months of casual playing I’ve now joined the approximately 42 billion other characters who have hit level 70. And really, that’s what makes it special.

I immediately headed over to Shadowmoon Valley and picked up my flying mount. After spending pretty much all the gold I had on me, I flew over to Hellfire Peninsula and took a look at Doom Lord Kazzak.

I must say the drive to 70 seemed to go by rather quickly. At times it felt a little “grindy”, but on the whole, it was a relatively painless experience. I’m once again impressed with the options available for questing. I still have two zones (Netherstorm, Shadowmoon Valley) which I haven’t done a single quest in yet.

So now that I’m 70, what’s next? My first priority is to find some healing gear as I plan on respeccing to the restoration talent tree. I’ll also be focusing on getting keyed for Karazhan, and finally, working on getting attuned for Onyxia. That’s right… Onyxia, the poor old dragon that nobody goes to see anymore. I can’t wait to have a screen shot of her lifeless corpse on the blog.

Karazhan. Before I started playing World of Warcraft it seemed as though Karazhan was all I heard about from my friends who were into the game at the time. It eventually got to the point where I started to wonder if Burning Crusade had any other content aside from Kara.

I now find myself standing on the precipice of that infamous instance.

Of course, one doesn’t simply walk into Karazhan; a chain of quests needs to be completed beforehand. As such, I found myself heading into the Shadow Labyrinth at Auchindoun with four trusty friends at my side.

I was pumped. The only previous dungeon experience I’ve had in Burning Crusade was a quick run through Hellfire Ramparts, so I was looking forward to a new experience. Furthermore, this was also the first chance I’ve had to partake of a group comprised fully of “real life” friends taking on equal level content. The group consisted of:

1. Choober – 70 (Prot) Paladin
2. Ordeth (me!) – 69 (Enhancement) Shaman
3. Kuarlos – 68 (MS/Slam) Warrior
4. Taiwar – 69 (Fury) Warrior (dinged 70 half-way through)
5. Grahn – 70 (Resto) Druid

Things got off to an interesting start. Standing just inside the entrance, we began our preparations. Out of the blue and unannounced, someone who wasn’t the tank, I won’t name names (you know who you are, hang your head in shame), pulled a mob towards us. Everyone thought it was Kuarlos and Ventrilo erupted in a chorus of insults and other degradations hurled towards him; it was fun. After we finished killing off our unexpected encounter, Kuarlos made sure we all knew that he was innocent, revealing the true identity of our over-eager mob puller. Again, I won’t name names to protect the guilty, but needless to say, myself, the Pally, Druid and Kuarlos were very forgiving and we moved on.

As far as I could tell, the instance went very well. The first issue we had was with the third boss, Grandmaster Vorpil. We made a couple attempts at him but concluded we just didn’t have enough DPS to burn him down. Fortunately one of the mages in our guild was more than happy to come down and help us out. Kuarlos stepped aside for the fight but rejoined us immediately after.

The final boss, Murmer, also gave us a bit of trouble. After a few wipes, we finally decided to just grab the key fragment needed for the Entry Into Karazhan quest and give Murmer one last try, then call it a night.

On our final attempt, things were going extremely well. We had all gotten used to the encounter by this point and were running along like a well-oiled machine. That was before our healer ran out of mana however.

With Murmer clinging to just a shred of life, we slowly started to fall. One by one we fell prey to the huge elementals attacks. We were so close. All of our hopes soon shifted to Choober, the last of us standing. Surrounded by his fallen comrades, Choober mustered up all of his strength and fearlessly stood toe to toe with Murmer. Bolstered by our enthusiastic encouragement on Vent, the Paladin soon struck the fatal blow and stood victorious.

When all was said and done, it’s easy to say this was some of the most fun I’ve had in WoW to this point. It was great being in a group, even better that it was made up of friends, and better still taking on content that kept us on our toes.

I can’t wait for more.

I haven’t read comics for quite a while so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance, but since when has Superman been a Dwarf?

A friend and I had just finished off the elites for the mastery quests in Nagrand when we decided to finish off some of the other group quests we had in the zone. Rather than slogging our way through yet more elites on our own, we decided to put out a call for help. Our message to general chat was something along the lines of: LFM to kill Master Planner and Durn.

We got one response immediately, from a level 70 Dwarf Hunter. Only after inviting him to our group however, did we learn that he had no idea who those mobs were or what quests they were part of. Once we told him, he was off to go and get said quests. Of course, they’re part of chains which he had yet to start. “No problem,” said the Dwarf, “I’ll whip through them real quick”.

To his credit, he did indeed whip through them very quickly, updating us on his status the whole way. He was also more than eager to inform us that he was fully decked out in epic gear, so we got to hear how easy the quests were for him. Not only that, he informed us that he “accidentally” ganked a Horde player. “I didn’t mean to kill him, just wanted to scare him a little, but my Uber Sword of Leetness was too much for him, LOLZ!”.

His chatter was non-stop, mostly about how awesome he and his gear was. My friend whispered to me, “he sounds a little flakey”. Yeah, you think? If I had been thinking straight I would have taken a screen shot of the chat log, because, while quite annoying, I still found myself quite fascinated in what he was saying. Kind of like when you’re flipping through the TV channels and you stumble upon a movie that’s so bad, so terribly horrible, that you just can’t stop watching. Or am I the only one who does that? On that note, I highly recommend checking out Android Apocalypse starring Joey “I’m a serious actor now so call me Joseph” Lawrence. Woah!… it’s terrible.

Anyway… to make a long story short, Mr. Dwarfy McUber was actually a fairly formidable little bugger and we did manage to kill both the Master Planner and Durn the Hungerer. As long as the job gets done, I suppose…

I kept a promise to myself and fought my way through to the end of Diablo II’s first act. I’m not going to lie; it was a struggle. Not because it was overly difficult or anything, but because I found it to be somewhat mind-numbingly boring.

I still consider Diablo II to be one of my all-time favourites. I’ve poured countless hours into it, which may be part of why it was so hard for me to continue playing it the other day; I can’t even begin to guess how many times I’ve been through Act I. I originally thought it most likely a case of me outgrowing its design. Click, click, click… kill monsters… click, click, click… drink a potion. Lather, rinse, repeat, ad nauseam.

Wait a second, didn’t I just describe the game play of countless other games? After all, that’s pretty much all you do in World of Warcraft. Come to think of it, I still quite enjoy Titan Quest which is the exact same game as Diablo II, just in a different candy coating. So my indifference to my old favourite has got to be that I’ve seen the content a million times before, doesn’t it?

After defeating Andariel I took my hand off the mouse and said out loud, “thank goodness that’s over”. Not, “that was cool!” like I undoubtedly said years ago the first time I killed her. There was no sense of accomplishment, no gratification, only relief. Relief that I had upheld my silly self promise to force myself to play through at least Act I.

After finishing the first act, I was going to reassess my desire to continue playing through the game. I’d still like to see the expansion content again, as I’ve only played through Lord of Destruction’s Act V once, and I’m genuinely interested in checking it out again. On the other hand, the thought of going through Acts II through IV for the billionth time appeal to me about as much as a hole in the head. I get precious little gaming time these days and I don’t want to “waste” them on a game I’m not enjoying. Fortunately, I found an answer to this most heinous dilemma.

I’m going to cheat.

I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, but a quick internet search led me to a handy little program called Hero Editor. I created a new test character, a Druid named Testy, and used the editor to make him level 99 with all stats and talents maxed, along with access to all the waypoints in the first four acts.

After entering the game I teleported to the final waypoint in Hell, just outside of Chaos Sanctuary where Diablo himself lay in wait. I cast Hurricane, which creates a swirling vortex around my character, and walked forward. Every monster that touched my Hurricane died instantly. For some strange reason, I took great pleasure in my ill-gotten new powers. I activated the seals and summoned forth Diablo, who fell at my feet in about five seconds.

Next up, Act V!

First, let me preface this by saying that I think Dr. Phil is an idiot, and when it comes to matters of guild leadership, so am I. I have no experience running a guild, but I’ve been a member of a few across different games. My guild experience has run the gamut; from one’s I’ve hated being a part of, to one’s I’ve loved, and a few smack-dab right in the middle. Throughout that time, I’ve developed my own opinions as to what makes a successful guild. I have a very concrete idea as to how I would create and run my own guild, should I ever choose to do so. That said, I found myself unintentionally trying to offer insight to my friend, who also happens to be the officer of a guild.

It started innocently enough. From the very little that I understood, his guild had some sort of rivalry with another on the server. Rivalry, may be too strong a word, but it’s all I’ve got at the moment. Regardless, while conversing with my email buddies one slow work day, I asked him what his guilds beef was towards this other guild. His reply was that <Rival Guild> does anything to stay at number one, whereas <Friend’s Guild> is a fun guild that doesn’t get bent out of shape about anything. <Rival Guild> steals people from his guild that they gear up, and his guild is frustrated.

I paid a visit to the public website for my friend’s guild. In the “About” section, I see a mission statement that emphasizes their casual nature. Their current aims are to progress through the Burning Crusade raid content, and they are made up of a mix of players, levels, and play styles. Finally, they welcome any who fit in and harbour no ill-will to those who choose to part ways.

I then checked out <Rival Guild>’s website. It’s obvious that they’re all about end-game raiding, currently focusing on finishing off Black Temple. I couldn’t see any mission statements, but they have clearly defined loot distribution rules. It was fairly clear to me that clearing the end-game and getting loot are their primary goals.

This is where I kicked into Dr. Phil mode. What would cause someone to leave <Friend’s Guild> in favour of <Rival Guild>? At first glance it’s pretty obvious. <Friend’s Guild>, at present, doesn’t offer the opportunity to venture into the end-game instances, and in turn, get the uber phat lootz. For someone who’s only interest in the game is seeing that content, and obtaining those shiny rewards, the guild-hop is inevitable. You usually won’t be accepted into a hardcore raiding guild until you’ve got a certain standard of gear. That means getting geared up elsewhere, which is usually a more casual guild.

I’m sure it’s frustrating for a casual guild to progress with a certain player only to have them jump ship as soon as they’ve got better gear, but at the same time, I wondered what <Friend’s Guild> wasn’t doing to prevent this. Why were there no other apparent incentives for players to stay? If the guild leadership was getting frustrated with newly geared characters leaving their ranks, then they’ve gone against their mission statement that claims they feel no ill-will to those who choose to part ways. More importantly, what are they doing to prevent it from happening to begin with? What, besides loot, does a casual guild like <Friend’s Guild> have to offer a loot fiend?

I suggested to my friend that without further incentives to stay, they’ll need to screen out those loot fiends from their ranks to begin with, using more stringent recruiting. It’s my belief that any potential new recruit should be asked what they want out of the guild. If their answer is “awesome loot!” then perhaps they wouldn’t be a great fit for the guild. I asked my friend what process applicants to his guild went through. I also asked what he and the other officers discussed when considering a new applicant. I wondered if they looked at their gear first and said, “he’s got great gear, let’s bring him aboard!”. If they saw a lesser geared applicant would they say, “crap gear, we don’t need him”? I suggested that if the guild based their decisions strictly on gear, than they were doing essentially the same thing as the guild-hopping loot fiends, just in reverse. Alternatively, if they were looking to add to their tight-knit family, did they judge recruits on their character (out-of-game)? Do they have a trial period to ensure they get along with the rest of the guild?

My friend informed me that the guild leadership does look at an applicants gear, but it’s mainly to assess how likely they are to obtain a raid slot, or whether they’ll need to attend one of the “many guild Karazhan runs that are created almost nightly”. I have no issue with that, and in fact find it encouraging that they try to accommodate lesser geared characters. What I have a problem with was my friends response that they “invite everyone that applies”.

Quite frankly, if you invite everyone that applies, you’re asking for trouble, regardless of how casual you claim your guild to be. There has to be some sort of screening process, otherwise, you’ll find it very difficult to avoid the loot fiends. A guild with no screening process makes it very easy for someone to just pop in, grab some gear, and take off. There’s no emotional investment in the guild for such a person. They didn’t need to put any effort into getting accepted. There were no incentives to develop personal relationships with the other guild members.

I then asked what any of the officers would say if a potential recruit asked them what would keep him from wanting to leave the guild. My friend posted the question to his guilds officer forum to illicit responses from the rest of the leadership. It didn’t take long for me to further see why certain people wouldn’t feel any sense of attachment to the guild.

“I wouldn’t have an answer”.

This is a problem. What I was hoping to establish with my question was a sense of family; what kind of personal relationships did the guild members have with each other? If I was applying to your guild and received that answer to my question, then you’ve just told me that your guild offers me nothing but a guild tag floating above my head, whether that’s true or not. You need to have an answer to that question. Tell me about how much fun I’m going to have with the other members. Tell me the sense of accomplishment I’ll feel when we all work together to down the boss that’s been spanking your butts the past few attempts. Tell me that once I get to know everybody and see just how great they all are, I’ll feel like I’ve come home every time I log in. Just, tell me something!

“Being in a guild like ours means you are in a tightly knit group of people. It takes time to break into the inner core, but once you’re in, you’re in”.

Am I the only who sees a problem in that response? If I join your guild will I be a part of a tightly knit group of people, or will I have to wait to break into the tightly knit group? Will I be an outsider from the get-go, knocking on the door of the tightly knit group? Or, will I be in one tight knit group, just waiting to get into the tighter knit group? Here’s a novel concept for you: your guild as a whole should be the tight knit group. End of story. The response above tells me that you’ve got a tiered guild. Telling me you’ve got an “inner core” smells an awful lot to me like you’ve got a clique going on. Cliques are very bad for guilds. I fully understand that certain players may naturally gravitate towards others and socialize together. Some will be more active than others in the guild and form tighter bonds with each other. What the response above tells me though, is that new recruits are considered to be a lower class of citizen.

In my mind, the inner core is the guild itself. The application process should serve as the “breaking into” phase. Once an applicant is accepted into the guild they should be considered equal to all other guild members. This would send the message that you are a single entity. You work together, you fail together, and you succeed together. Without a strong sense of camaraderie your guild is nothing more than a big, static, pick-up group. This may not be the case, but it appears to be the message you’re sending out.

My best guild experience was with a small guild in EverQuest II called the Azure Order. One of their rules upon joining was that I had to share with the rest of the guild my real name. There was no choice; if you wanted to be part of their guild, they needed your name. I think that small, simple stipulation did more to foster loyalty to the guild than anything. It removed much of the anonymity and helped foster genuine friendships with others. Furthermore, the guild was small because it was selective as to who it brought in. They sought like-minded people. In the end, we were left with a group of people that had common interests, a shared sense of humour, and a real, genuinely tight knit group.

We didn’t get the greatest loot, we didn’t down all the huge bosses. We just had fun. That’s what the guild offered, and in return, they had my loyalty.

So here’s my final advice to <Friend’s Guild>. Learn to live with the guild-hoppers and be genuinely happy for them when they find other opportunities and leave. Or, initiate some change from within. Clarify your guild mission statement and make it absolutely clear what you offer your members. If you’re going to advertise a tight knit group, can you back it up? If I picked at random any of the character names from your guild roster, would you be able to tell me what class they are? Regardless of level? Would any of the officers be able to look through the guild roster and know who each and every member is, or would there be names there that you’ve never seen before? Do all of your tight knit group of players play together, or just the level 70s? Do you offer words of encouragement, and help, to the lower level players struggling to reach the level cap?

Answer honestly.