Level 1 Dungeons

Wasn’t going to post today but have to write to block out the sound of the news relentlessly going on and on and on about the fact it will now cost 5p every time you need a carrier bag in Wales. Why is this news? Why? It’s a good thing to do for the environment and many of us are using the hard core bags for life anyway – if we forget them we need to pay the price (rather that be 5p than be taken outside and beaten which is how the news is making it sound). One woman interviewed said 2p was fine, but 5p no. What? Does the extra 3p per bag really make a difference (yes I know it does if you use 150 bags a year which is what the average Welsh person does apparently but…oh god see what I’m doing … I’m talking about these bloody bags too when I’m trying to escape them). Anyway “Mrs  2p is ok but 5p is extortionate” – do it for your ancestors – they will thank you when they’re not wading knee deep through piles of carrier bags that will take a 1000 years to disintegrate (yet another fact I learned today) just to get to the local store for their vitamin pill and botox injection (this is how I imagine daily life in the future – my life anyway).

The Raggy Dolls

A friend of mine suggested I should link to You Tube for this. So click here first The Raggy Dolls intro

Now with that tune safely in your head for the rest of the day read on…! The Raggy Dolls was a children’s TV programme in my youth which I think perfectly sums up what my new guild on EU server Defias Brotherhood is about. The idea came from a comment made by Martin in response to one of my posts here and from other comments from people who have talked about being too scared to heal or tank. I felt (feel) the same as you know and still feel very nervous when I do both roles (not that I do both roles at once of course – although I have been known to sometimes get confused and heal my healer husband when I’m tanking). I still worry that I’ll be criticised by the group for any little mistake I make.

When life is too hard to play

First a quick tanking update – yes I’ve not forgotten what this blog is supposed to be about even though recently I seem to talk about everything but tanking. Have gone in just one dungeon since the Stratholme Disaster. Husband insisted on healing me – scared I think that I would get definitive proof it is his healing that causes the wipes as opposed to my atrocious lack of skill. I, for my part, am still scared of tanking without him (even if he does just randomly bash buttons without a care in the world) so happily let him join me. And it went well. That’s the important thing. It was Razorfen Downs again. I do know it quite well now (tempted to rent a little room not far from the Bone Pile). I let a rogue dps lead the way because I like seeing them sneak (contradiction in terms but there you go) but there was no crazy pulling and we all stayed together. The group wanted to do another one when it was over which has got to be a good sign (unless they have the same masochist tendencies as my husband) but I wasn’t prepared to go that far. I needed to do my post tanking ritual – long bath, chocolate, cup of tea and a lie down. But it was a good one and did make me feel a bit better. Determined to do another one later today or tomorrow. I can see Zulfarrak waiting in my list of specific dungeons. It’s orange to me right now – so I’m safely ignoring it, but I’m absolutely dreading when it becomes yellow or green. Can I start levelling backwards? Would really like to do the Deadmines again (non-heroic of course!). I know the way around Zulfarrak so it’s not that. I’ve done it as both dps and healer. But that bit on the stairs. OMG. It’s the stuff of recurring nightmares. I’ve been there when it’s been done badly and when it’s been done well and frustratingly  I’m not sure what was done different each time. Any tips and strategies out there for tanking it and not making a complete fool of myself would be very gratefully received.

Games and Grief

Now by this blog post title I don’t mean griefing players in game. I’ve never done that. I’m not really sure I understand what it means to be honest but I think it’s something to do with level 70s ganging up on low levels and repeatedly sending them to the spirit healer – highly amusing and unfailingly entertaining to some people it seems (move along – no bitterness here).

No I mean grief. Proper grief. As in being very very upset at the loss of something or someone in game.

Now I can already imagine some of you bitterly recalling that loot roll you lost, the one that has cost you a fortune in therapy fees over the years. Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring it all  back. PLSD. Post Looting Stress Disorder. There needs to be a support group for it. I don’t mean that. I mean when you lose something in game and it touches you somewhere deep, hidden, somewhere where you are really vulnerable and maybe it makes you cry.

I only ask because it just occurred to me I’ve never cried in WoW. “So what?” some of you might ask. But that’s odd for me. I cry. I cry at  TV shows, films, news interviews, adverts, prices, bills and stuff my dog did to my Valentines Day card (messy). Everything. But I’ve never cried at anything that’s happened in WoW.

Now I don’t expect real emotional connection from most computer games. Or at least not sentimental emotion. Yes I’ve been terrified in games (Resident Evil 2- running past those boarded windows where you know the zombies are going to come bursting in always without fail terrified me and I always always screamed when the arms came through). Running in the mist in Silent Hill was not pleasant- not pleasant at all. Excitement has been felt in games galore. Passing my B licence (or was it A- whichever was the easiest) in Gran Turismo (the only thing I ever achieved in that game). Capturing my creature in Black & White (the only thing I ever achieved in that game). Conquering the entire known world in Civilisation (who needs to achieve anything else in any game …awesome). They’ve all been exciting and sometimes scary experiences that are in a sense emotional- but not sentimental emotional moments in the truest sense of the word. Not a sadness. This got me thinking – has there been any of that in any game? And if so why isn’t there any of it in WoW (for me anyway)?

Ok- so games that made me sad. To be a tad flippant for a moment- the entire catalogue of C16 games when I was a child made me sad. I’d look forlornly at the empty shelf and then glance at the Speccy shelves and  the C64 shelves and curse forever that bloody salesman who told my mother the C16 was going to be the greatest thing in gaming. Yes tears were cried there. I also cried after watching Wargames and then discovering it was impossible to buy a modem in the UK and I couldn’t tap into the school network. He made it look so easy.

But what games have made me weep?

There are some I must admit. I feel sad again bringing them to mind. There was a moment when I played Creatures and my poor little cute Creature got trapped by this horrible thuggish one. I couldn’t seem to help him escape. And he turned to look at me through the monitor with huge beseeching eyes. As his God and protector I felt I had failed him. I couldn’t help him. The manual was useless. He looked so scared and I was upset. But the real big one for me is The Sims 1 & 2. I loved the Sims and I truly cared about my characters. In the first game  I was genuinely shocked when Buffy (always my heroine), married to Paul (my favourite male name apart from my husband’s) got bitten by her hamster and died. The grief Paul felt at her sudden death upset me. I immediately reacted in the only way I could think of. I restarted the game without saving and brought her back to life. If only we could do that in real life. The hamster found himself immediately sold (i.e. deleted). She never knew what I’d done for her but like a kindly god I continued to protect her and Paul as best I could to ensure they came to no further harm. They were my chosen ones. That was until a lightning storm in real life blew my computer and I lost my hard drive. Bye bye Buffy and Paul.  At least you were saved the indignity of death by hamster bite.

The worst was The Sims 2 though. I started two characters very closely modelled on my husband and I. I’m sad like that. I like to escape real life by creating an identical virtual one – down to my very last neurosis. I loved playing them and was looking forward to them achieving great things in their life. My Sim self became pregnant- something (to get a little personal here) I would love very much to happen in real life but it hasn’t …yet. She gave birth to a son I called…you guessed  it…Paul. He was a little terror because I was a rubbish player and struggled with two Sims and a baby. I didn’t get things like a high chair and so the whole house was littered with green milk bottles (in fact there’s probably a reason why I haven’t had a child in real life yet). But they were my little virtual family. Me and and my husband and our baby. And I loved them. But then Sims me and hubby got old. I hadn’t read anything about the elixir of life at this stage. I only knew that the Sims 2 brought aging. I was sad when they changed appearance. I did not like the fact my Sim self’s face had changed. Husband Sim looked distinguished. If a little stooped. But there was nothing I could do about it I thought. So I pressed on. I knew the end was coming but I didn’t know how or when. It changed my play style. I started taking more photos of the little family. I took them out more. I didn’t even know I was doing it but I was trying to preserve something. One day I sent them all to the swimming pool. They spent some time swimming, complaining they wanted food, desperate for the toilet, antagonising some of the fellow swimmers and then begging angrily to go home and sleep. This game is so much like my real life I thought, as I looked on affectionately. I took them home and they did everything they needed to raise their little green bars – hours of plaintive guitar playing for creative little Paul who was a teenager by then. But just as they all seemed to be relaxing so the Grim Reaper turned up for my Sim self. I – the player- was shocked. My Sim self seemed strangely ok with it. I hadn’t been expecting it that day. I guess no one does. And she died without achieving her lifetime aspiration which was really sad (becoming a super criminal or something). I hadn’t realised on her death a little message would come up lightly rebuking me for her not achieving that. I felt like I’d failed her. If there is a God does he feel that when we die unfulfilled? Does he feel responsible? So there was just the two guys left. They muddled along like men do. I watched on from afar- both their God creator and their recently deceased wife and mother. They had one little moment I’ll never forget . Once -all of a sudden – they started dancing together. Old man and teenage boy bopping around the living room. I took the photo. I know all about the Sims game mechanics. I know why they were really doing that. But at some level that doesn’t matter to me. Their moment of closeness and happiness coming after the death of their wife and mother just seemed so very real, so very touching. Does that make me a sentimental fool? I still think of it as one of the sweetest things I have ever seen. Then it was Paul’s birthday. I got him a cake and placed it on the counter. I was just about to send Paul over to blow out the candles and age and celebrate and enjoy the moment with his Dad when…yes…the Grim Reaper appeared again. “No!” I remember yelling at the screen. My real life husband came over to me. I was horrified. He put his arms around me as my Sim husband died. And Paul. He wept as they all do when their loved ones die, as we all do. Then he aged – and I guess that’s true too. And then- and again this was one of the most profound, apt and moving things I’ve ever seen- he walked over to his birthday cake and threw it in the bin. The party was over. I remember staring aghast at the screen. Then I started to cry. To really cry. My husband held me as I sobbed. I knew I was being ridiculous. I know I’m being ridiculous now as I get all teary eyed again thinking about them. But it made me sad and it still does. I have created many more versions of that family in the game since (and in another post I’ll tell you more about what happened to this Paul after these deaths- he had quite an exciting life- married Buffy as my Paul always does). But these two will always be my real Sim versions of me and my husband and their deaths and Paul’s loss moved me greatly.

(As a footnote to the story I did bury them both in the garden and darkly enjoyed them for a while as ghosts but I in particular turned out to me a very mean ghost. Once when Paul’s then girlfriend Buffy was visiting I leapt out, terrified her and made her die of a heart attack. I was a little shocked my ghost self was such a possessive mother but it’s not entirely unexpected. As I always do for Buffy (and as they did at the start of Season 6) I reset the game. Hamsters and ghosts cannot defeat the vampire slayer, and cannot kill the devoted wife to the saintly Paul. Like the film Poltergeist I then moved Paul and Buffy to another house so the spirits of his dead parents could live in peace.)

So that’s my game grief story. But I haven’t got a WoW one. Yet hours-wise I’ve spent just as much- if not more- on my WoW characters. Why isn’t there this same connection? Would it be there if I roleplayed? Bravetank is on a roleplaying server but has yet to do anything other than watch some other people role playing on the steps of the cathedral and stress about the fact she was running when she moved away – not walking as you’re meant to do. Or is it because there’s no perma death. Totally understand why there isn’t. I have played MUDS with perma deaths and it was a disheartening affair. I’ve also played MUDS with very harsh experience death penalties – and that too was pretty hard going. But I don’t think it’s just that no death in Wow is final. Even in the Sims it now doesn’t have to be. You can be a scientist and build a resurrection machine. You can get enough elixirs of life to keep them going forever. In the Sims 3 you can slow down the aging experience completely. You can always restart without saving. But that game still emotionally connects me in a way that WoW doesn’t.

When I really think about it I think it’s the mundanity of the Sims (alien abductions and pregnant males aside – yes Paul did that too) that draws us in. It echoes real life so closely that it generates real feelings – in me anyway. The fantasy hack and slash of WoW and the easy resurrections distance us from any sense this is real, any sense this can change us. In-game chat furthers that distance. WoW news and endless patches continue this. It is an immersive game, but it remains a game, for me anyway. I don’t have the stories about my WoW characters that I do of my Sims. I don’t get the sense of family and history. There is no family. Their histories tend to be ones of repeated mob killings and quest rewards. On and on. And that isn’t a criticism of the game – it’s a good thing. Because I go on WoW to have fun and escape the stresses of life. I don’t want to go on and see myself change, age, grow old & die. I have the mirror and the passing of time for that.

The Case of the Bloody Five

I understand there is still talk of there being a WoW film. It’s probably already been written but not one to be deterred by real life in any sense of the word I have drafted my first screenplay. Now to find an agent…!

If you love something set it free

Didn’t think I’d be writing a post so soon but had to get this one down while it’s all still fresh. The divorce lawyers prefer it that way. It’s a tale of marital strife and healer and tank  disharmony – basically my usual blog post after I enter a dungeon as a tank with my husband as healer.

Ok the day started well enough. I got up early because my other eye is now bad (don’t get me started on my eyes – apparently stress is making me come out in styes. They alternate eyes so neither feels left out and in the meantime I walk round the place looking as if I’ve come off rather badly in my attempt to be featherweight champion of the year).

Anyway I went on the computer right away (sad sad I know) and did something I’ve been wanting to do since I started writing this blog. I changed my tank’s name (Sparci) to Bravetank. I thought it was time for her to adopt her true title. In my head  I thought it would be like the moment in films when some special title is bestowed on the main protagonist and he/she finally know who they are and their purpose in life. This was my Sparci Clark Kent’s Superman moment. This is her day I thought. How wrong I was. So wrong. The name is cursed.

Once my husband was up, breakfasted and had checked his gold like Scrooge before the three ghosts I did my usual begging act – asking him to heal me. It won’t be Scholomance I promised. Little did I know that by the end of our run my husband would be praising Scholomance to the heavens like some Azerothian tourist guide on commission. Instead we entered Stratholme – the main gate one…the main gates to hell as it turned out.

It started badly. I noticed my husband didn’t have Devotion Aura on and rebuked him like a Sgt Major spotting a new recruit’s poorly shined shoes. But in fairness to me (if this blog at least can’t be fair to me I don’t think there’s much hope) we do have an agreement. I put Ret Aura on and he puts Devotion Aura on. It’s not that hard. Until this moment I haven’t felt the need to write it down or write it on the fridge or anything. But apparently he didn’t remember and then claimed he thought he always did Ret Aura. Even though he hadn’t remembered to put that on either …. I held my tongue (if by that I mean I said various things of a very sarcastic nature) and we began.

We had a mage, hunter and warlock in our group. They seemed friendly enough. But like magnets of the same charge they also seemed strangely repelled by each other. And by us. I’ve never seen anything like it. Basically they just ran in three different directions, all of them different from the one my husband and I were going, all of them wrong. At one point one was running back to the instance entrance in a relay race with its pet.

So as you can imagine the first couple of pulls were rather messy. There were basically four different pulls happening in four different areas. To top it all I immediately got some kind of worm infestation from some contagious ghoul. Now I always know immediately when that happens because I am a good girl and have Decursive. My husband is not so good. He feels himself to be rather above Decursive. “I’ve got worms,” I yelled, causing the neighbours to squirm. “Oh right,” he said in a rather laid back manner for someone I trust with my life. However, he cleared the worms like an efficient vet and we pressed on.

I don’t really know what happened next. One moment I was alive the next I was dead. At this point I think we were only about 3 feet from the main gate. Determined to be cheery I stoically corpse ran and returned, announcing in an upbeat school teacher manner, “Let’s all try again shall we.” I immediately got attacked by something I hadn’t seen coming (don’t forget my stye – I’m effectively doing all this with one eye). And this time we all died. Disaster. “At least we’re having exercise doing our corpse runs,” I said in a now clearly insane cheery manner, already in reality a gibbering wreck. I cast a sneaky glance over my shoulder at my husband to check he’d remembered he was the healer and wasn’t tabbed out checking football scores. He was still in the dungeon having a “mb” as he tersely announced. I refrained from saying anything.

Third time. We got as far as the tobacco guy then the wandering dps pulled mobs from every quarter of Stratholme and we died again. My husband maddeningly then decided to write in Party chat ,”What happened?” OMG I thought. Betrayer. He’s just inviting them to blame the tank. So I immediately (and not in an overreacting way at all despite what he said and how this now seems as I write it down…you had to be there) gave him a verbal reminder of his marriage and WoW vows. The keypoints were as follows: – as my husband I did not expect sarcasm from him in Party chat, that this was the very reason he was my healer, that he was supposed to be defending me no matter what etc. My wedding ring almost came off my finger for dramatic effect but even I sometimes know when to stop (normally 5 mins after it’s too late mind). “I’m just having fun!” he said.   I’m not even typing my response to that. I have vowed to keep all bad language out of this blog. So for revenge I immediately posted in Party chat – “It’s worse because healer is my husband.” Silence, then “Oh have you two had a fight?” said one of the dps. So you can imagine how we must have looked. Totally incompetent and dysfunctional to boot. How two WoW toons can convey blame, frostiness and the total breakdown of trust I don’t know but we managed it. The dps kept quiet- not even they wanted to go there.

I ran round a corner into another load of mobs. By now I was playing rather erratically I have to admit. I looked for the healer. He was being attacked in a completely different part of the dungeon. “Why aren’t you with me?” I asked. “One of the dps…” I didn’t let him finish. “Forget the dps, stay with me,” I ordered like an egotistical tyrant, “I am your priority. And you can sometimes put Hand of Protection on me you know.”

“I don’t have it,” he said. I sighed so loudly in response that people in Australia felt a breeze across their face. “Yes you do,” I replied, “Every paladin has it.” But we couldn’t continue this interesting debate about Paladin skills because by then we were dead – again.

My first dungeon with Sparci playing officially as Bravetank I thought. What a disaster. Hope none of the dps read my blog. I found myself standing once again before the spirit healer. She gave me a rueful look and a little shrug as if to say I used to have a healer husband too- and look what happened to me.

By now we were by the letterbox bit of the dungeon fighting the postmen who care very deeply about the mail. “Pull more,” said one of the dps, and like a fool I did, believing in that moment that I could handle it. “Don’t listen to him,” yelled my husband, panic-stricken, but my headstrong self pressed on. I can’t remember the details of what came next – all I know is every hit I took seemed to totally decimate my health, and there was no sign of any heals. “Sorry,” said my husband when I died again, “I was focused on the mob by accident.” Now I’ve done that myself as a healer. I know it happens. But by now I could barely breathe. We were the laughing stock of the dungeon. It was only the fact the group knew we were married that was keeping everyone in check- no one wanted to be subpoenaed to give evidence in a divorce court.

In we went again. Most of the mobs in  this area had now gone. I had time to view the buildings and wonder about real estate prices. I turned a corner and immediately pulled something else. “I’m not ready,” yelled my husband furiously. “I didn’t pull them on purpose!” I yelled back, already a corpse on the floor. We then had a heated discussion about tanks who run off without checking the healer is with them. Apparently they are the scourge of the earth. Actually when I’m a healer I agree. On this occasion though I found myself rather more sympathetic to such tanks who have healers who repeatedly find themselves stuck behind gates….

And so it went on. My armor by now was totally wrecked. Any finesse, style and assurance from my play had gone. Any hint of civility between me and my husband had long since disappeared. I said somethings about what he could do with his Beacon of Light that was quite frankly offensive.

Finally the last straw. My health disappearing again he said, “I am healing you but it’s not working, why can’t you be healed?”I’ll show him I thought and tried to click Lay on of Hands on myself. It didn’t work for some reason. I kept quiet. And died. Again.

“I can’t do it any more guys,” I said to the dps, “It just isn’t working.” My husband had by now already left the dungeon and was dismantling his mouse to show me a bit of fluff that was apparently the cause of all the problems. I refused to look.

What a disaster. Silence descended on the house. For 10 seconds. Then the recriminations started. Apparently he’d never seen a tank lose health as fast as me. I’ve never seen a healer not use Hand of Protection I responded. Why did I listen to the dps and pull more. I didn’t know I admitted, I’m easily led. Why did he criticise me in Party Chat I asked. It was a joke he insisted. Then the bit I knew was coming. The speech. “I’m never healing for you again. I hate it. It’s not fun. I get nothing out of it. It was embarrassing.” It was like an anti healer affirmation. But then, amazingly for once, I started listening. Properly. He really does dislike it. He hates it. He is only doing it because I beg him and he loves me and he knows I’m scared to tank without him. And you know what … if I’m to be brave, really brave, I need to start doing this on my own. And if I’m to be a wife, a good wife, I need to stop making my husband do something he hates. So he wins. The pocket healer is no more and he is set free. With love. And now my scary journey really begins….

Midnight Feast Musings

I wish I could submit a Breakfast Topic for WoW Insider. I have the perfect one. But I’m not allowed to because I live outside the USA. That’s not WoW Insider’s fault. And it’s not my parents fault for being Welsh- just lost that argument on the phone with them. It’s something to do with the Seed service they use. Anyway my husband refuses to move to the States so I can submit a Breakfast Topic (he can be unreasonable but I don’t like to moan) so I’m writing it here instead. But so I’m not sued for copyright issues it’s not called a Breakfast Topic. It’s called Midnight Feast Musings – which I’ve now copyrighted in case Wow Insider loves it  (yes I am writing again from crazy fantasy land – nice view here).

Lions and Tigers and Bears oh my

No this post is not about me dithering about what pet to pick for my hunter. I actually don’t have a proper hunter. I have a low level character that I intended making a hunter but who now turns out to be a vegetarian. Most frustrating.

No this is about anger and the beast within. It is WoW related (I understand the god of WoW blogs looks darkly on Wow bloggers who indulge too much in personal life talk) but it has been sparked (and don’t forget my tank’s name is Sparci too- see there are WoW connections already!) by something that did happen this week.

A dungeon confession

Wow (pun intended) – where to start? I am so happy with the responses to my last post. I was talked about in MMO Melting Pot (quoted and everything!) and in Sheep the Diamond’s fantastic blog. I honestly thought this is it – that 15 minutes of fame Warhol promised (not me personally – he said I’d be lucky with 5). My husband “enjoyed” an hourly update (ok an “every 5 mins” update) of my viewing stats as I got more and more crazily excited. It was amazing. Thank you all for reading and for all the comments and feedback. I did share something personal- after all this blog is about being brave in all senses of the word. My husband was sad when he read the last line and gave me a hug – but it is how I feel. But what has really been lovely is that it resonated with other people. There’s nothing worse than admitting something to be greeted with a response of  “No I’ve never felt like that” (I know – I once confessed a passing attraction to my imp- never again). But in this case people have shared their own experiences and feelings regarding the issue. I now realise there’s more fretting going on in Wow dungeons than in the Tower of London’s entire history and that is strangely comforting.

Don’t be greedy

Funny how social anxieties can make even one’s online life very difficult. I used to think playing WoW would be my chance to liberate myself. Each of my characters could look and behave very differently from me – I could try out new personas and outlooks. To a certain extent I have done that. I am reluctant in real life to smite anyone and my fireballs and exorcists rarely work. I can stomp quite well though & have frequently stunned my husband. I can also eat & drink although unlike my characters can’t do it at the same time without dribbling. But while I thought I would really run wild in WoW and unleash lots of aspects of my hidden self – that turns out not to be true. As night elf, blood elf, corpse or cow I am still me. Me with horns. And still in fact the bits of me I don’t much like – the over-thinking, neurotic, worrying me.