Background:

This scenario is largely drawn from an actual raid on Upper Blackrock Spire (UBRS). The names and classes have been changed not only to protect the guilty but because I can't remember exactly who was what, and ultimately, it doesn't even matter for the purposes of this text. The events may be out of order, or slightly changed, but sadly, not all that much. The guild I'm in is a typical casual guild, with a lot of players who know one another in real life. Guildmates are denoted by an asterisk (*). The server is of the "normal" variety as opposed to role-player (RP) or player-versus-player (PVP), so there aren't any RP histrionics about proper forms of address and five page character motivation essays, nor are there PVP dick measuring contests and twenty minute tantrums about whom exactly fucked whose mother. I apologize for this in advance.

Part I: Premath

3:45 PM

I'm killing time at my girlfriend's place. She's working on a studio project at school, probably until at least 10:00pm. I've got plenty of time to kill. I launch WoW, log in as my alternate priest character, who's still pretty fresh out of the box, at a measly 23rd level. We'll call this character 'Mi'. I'm logged in for a minute when I see in guild chat, the middle of a conversation about a guild raid on UBRS. I tell them to count Me in if they're not too warrior heavy already. General conversation ensues, and I log out Mi and log in Me, a level 60 human warrior. Assume everyone is level 60 unless specifically stated otherwise.

4:10 PM

The guild chat channel moves between various conversations about different tasks, quests, small talk,and so forth. The desire is to get this 15 man raid as guild-heavy as possible, to limit the Jackass Syndrome of having to deal with a lot of people who don't have a clue. The object is to get upgrades for guildmates and get as many characters on their main 60th level characters as care to participate. I do the auction house/mail/bank shuffle in spam-laden Ironforge a few times, then I head out to Thorium Point and into the Burning Steppes.

4:40 PM

Knowing any raid grouping takes time to assemble, I've got time on my hands. Fortunately, I need scorpid scales anyway.

5:30 PM

Finally, bored stiff of trying to get my unarmed weapon skill from 299 to 300 by donkey punching scorpids, I make my way over to Blackrock Spire.

6:10 PM

Sitting around sure is dull. Our raid, another Alliance raid,a nd a Horde raid are all in location outside the instance in upper Blackrock Spire. I take turns with someone else drawing in random blackrock orcs. More donkey punching ensues. I never did get my unarmed to 300.

6:45 PM

After a 15 minute primer on speaking in the Ironforge LookingForGroup chat channel when one is, in fact, outside Ironforge, the empty spots in the raid slowly fill up, first with friends of guildmates, then with random people in Ironforge.

7:00 PM

Raid shuffle beings, dramas ensue. Twelve people in and we're still short a key holder, which is essential for the raid. No new raid members shall be added until a key holder is found.

7:30 PM

Vauxhall is added, he has the key, so recruitment for the remaining slots continues. Torquemada joins, but will only stay if there are only two priests in the raid, because she wants better odds on a class-based boss drop.

Torquemada is booted after about five minutes of this, none of the guild want to pander to her sense of entitlement. Fiat enters, but under the condition that he be allowed to roll on a boss drop usually coveted by priests. Rasputin (no relation) already has it, and Theresa is angered by this silly greedy paladin, but would rather play than bitch. Christ, I couldn't agree more.

8:10 PM

Fourteen slots are filled, and now we have the setup for the classic raid schism between Side A and Side B. Side A insists that a raid must contain exactly 'x' members (10 or 15, but never 11 or 14 - in this case, 15) and the character assortment must be according to God's Own Chosen Class Distribution System which requires each raid subgroup to have exactly one tank (a shield-wielding defense specced warrior), one damage dealer (high damage per second or dps - in other words, a rogue), one healer (a priest, or much less preferably, a healing-only non-melee paladin or druid), one area effect caster (a mage who can take out lots of low level spawns with a series of area effect spells), and a filler (a non defense specced warrior, a hunter without a pet because god forbid The Hatchery be done wrong, or a warlock or melee paladin). Side B, on the other hand, just wants to go as-is and get this shit started already thank you very much. I'm always on Side B. Side B wins, but we end up getting a few late fill-ins anyway, so the more numerous Side A finally stops bitching. Fiat can get a fourth paladin, Citroen, but Side A insists we wait a second to see if someone else's priest friend will come, who eventually declines. Ranger, a 57th level hunger, offers to join, which sends the most die-hard of Side A into a control freak rage. The idea that a level 57 hunter should even consider worrying about set items before his last three levels is, to them, simply audacious. I couldn't care less. Melvin joins.

8:45 PM

I'm still at the instance entrance, but after all of this puttering, we still have people in Ironforge and Stormwind. Goddamn. Vauxhall, our key holder, has to leave to open UBRS for another raid he has guildmates in, but will return. Fiat has a real life interrupt of some sort, and his friend Hippie replaces him. Vauxhall returns, and we're about to finally start this motherfuckery.

9:20 PM

Part II: Math

Now, finally, the raid itself commences. The guild discussion quickly becomes an analysis of Hippie's cross-healing antics. Melvin, not in our guild and a relatively late addition to boot, starts pasting raid rules via his raid rule spam macro. The text is nothing odd, the usual "all roll on green, all pass on BoE items (bind on equip), ML (master loot) on bosses" - the same shit I've seen on every raid I've ever fucking been on save for the one raid I was in where the ass hat of a leader wanted us to pass on all greens, too, and use the use/sell system on those, as if any goddamn green drop is going to be an upgrade item for a level 60 character. Anyway... Why Melvin considers it his job to lay down raid rules on a raid he's not leading is beyond me, really presumptuous, and highly annoying.

9:40 PM

Pizza arrives, but as I'm not the 'main tank', I do my eating, half paying attention, dual wielding with a sword I'd describe as 'merely adequate' in my main hand, and bloody brass knuckles in the other. Having noticed this, Ronald asks me what the hell I'm doing this for, which in the context of this game means, roughly translated, "HOW DARE YOU BE IN A RAID WITHOUT A ONE-HAND WEAPON AND A SHIELD AND BE ANYTHING OTHER THAN DEFENSE SPECCED!", and I'm guilty on all counts, baby. I, rather more politely than I felt, explained that there were 15 goddamn people here and there wasn't a whit's chance of us getting killed before the bosses unless someone runs buck ass wild in the Hatchery, so I was working on unarmed. This still puts me in third place on the damage dealt list, so I failed to see a problem.

10:00 PM

Between the first boss, and an accidental pull of a considerable number of additional mobs (go figure, a 15 man raid and someone fucks up, call the media!), we actually do take a bit of damage and I of course have switched to a sword and shield, lest I be accused of executing unauthorized play styles. It seems to me that every five minutes, we're doing absolutely nothing for five minutes, which after a quick check, can't be attributed to mana replenishment. Are our mob pullers too goddamn shy, are they waiting for orders, would they like me to pull? Fuck it, I'm going to pull if we're sitting on our asses. Progress speeds up a bit.

10:20 PM

My girlfriend comes in, and we're going to watch a movie, eventually. She asks me how far I'm into whatever it is I'm doing, and I've got to say that regretfully, I committed a long time ago and it'd be shitty of me to bail now. She does something else as she waits patiently. During this whole exchange, the raid is having some sort of strategy powwow about everyone being against the wall for the pulls, lest our asses be thrust via a pretty funny throw attack, into the vagaries of the hatchery which would cause a thousand dragonkin to hatch and get hungry for elf meat. Every time I've done this raid, this lecture happens, nobody follows it, and nobody falls victim to the thrust-into-the-hatchery maneuver anyway, which leads me to believe that this is more like a form which must be followed than actual advice. More to the point, it's fifteen minutes wasted.

10:45 PM

A boss dies, the master loot fiasco takes way too goddamn long, as usual. We're back to the "kill for five, stand around aimlessly for five" routine. My girlfriend is still waiting, still patiently, and I'm fuming that a raid I agreed to at 3:45 PM is only about an hour in at 10:45. I can't even tell you how pissed I am at this, because I'm a shit head either way, either to my girlfriend for wasting her time, or for letting my guildmates down.

11:20 PM

Another boss dies, someone is being a total princess about whether or not she gets to roll on an item she really shouldn't be too jazzed about anyway, and Vauxhall says he has to leave. Aston says he has to leave pretty soon, too, so I figure it's my cue. I wasn't the first one out, at least. On the guild channel, I explain that my girlfriend's been waiting for an hour, patiently, for me to finish a raid I agreed to over seven hours ago, and that it would be inexcusably rude of me to continue at this point, apologies offered, and I enable my hearthstone to go back to Ironforge before I log out. I grab a drink from the kitchen.

Part III: Aftermath

Over five minutes later, one of my guildmates, seemingly unaware of this message, is asking where the hell I went. When I offer the same explanation as before, he says something pissy to the effect that I'm unreliable, and makes some jab at the fact that I play a female character. Like I want to stare at pixellated man ass? Whatever. I wasn't the first one to bail, so honestly, I don't even feel that bad, and I've got a movie to watch.

The next evening, I log in for an hour before having to go to work, and in guild chat, I see "speak of the devil", and feel obliged to offer a blow by blow play of my justification of leaving early the night before.

Later, in Corp's IRC channel, I discuss the nature of my misadventures in WoW.

<Peanut Galleriest 1> UBRS isn't a 15 man raid anyway, you shouldn't need more than 10.

<Peanut Galleriest 2> We did it with five.

<Peanut Galleriest 3> My guild did it with an all-hunter raid.

<Peanut Galleriest 4> UBRS? You didn't solo it?

I can't win. I'm sure there are several valuable life lessons in this somewhere that I'm missing.