This week a former guildmate told me the old Star Wars Galaxies guild was disbanding … merging, being absorbed, scattering to the four winds. I won’t go into a whole Glory Days thing here, but as a ragtag PvP guild with a small membership, there was a time when we were the shit.
Not just in our own minds either, although we each had a healthy ego — we were regularly called hackers, stackers, bangers and motherf, well, you get the idea. We weren’t particularly skilled or talented. We were, however, extremely … how to say? … intense. Focused. Every guild and member activity was focused on improving team pvp activities.
That was our super secret strategy: exponential teamwork.
After Sony announced that the combat and pvp revamp was delayed until after the Jump to Lightspeed demon expansion, we decided it was time for a gaming vacation before the arrival of World of Warcraft.
The requisite timesink for a (maybe) ten-minute squirmish by the Coronet cantina became a burden: dancer + musician buffs several minutes, and heaven help you if someone was late in arriving for the buff rounds, doctor buffs another couple of minutes, check combat supplies (and there’s always some idiot that doesn’t have food, drink, med kits, needs repairs or what the fuck ever) — it was all so whacked.
Then YAY!! Thirty minutes later we were ready to ride out for the interplanetary hunt of any other players who weren’t whoring for a jedi unlock. We’d have our ten (maybe) minute fight, and about then it was time to watch the buff timers, repair bikes and armor, and juggle the food/drink timers.
Warcraft was on the horizon and the guild collectively voted to move there, although a few guys went to EverQuest 2, and a few stayed behind in Star Wars to unlock jedi. Guild management remained largely intact and we had reason to hope that a successful transition to a more loot-centric game would be possible. (I didn’t say “probable,” I said “possible.” Remember that.)
Few days into Warcraft, the
clerics priests started bitching that they’re having trouble soloing as quickly as the rogues and hunters. Actually, it wasn’t bitching so much as grumbling and asking for help.
Foton to the rescue! Because goddamn, if there’s one thing that gaming has taught me, we will need priests for the endgame … LOTS of them. From what I heard then (and of course know now), once a priest is solidly shadow specced, they won’t need help from anyone, in fact, the rest of us poor SOBs will begging them for help.
I did what I could, but damn, one rogue dragging around 3 or 4 priests is slow going in that game. So a couple of the priests posted on the boards asking for more guildmates to help the cause. We had all these rogues and hunters racing through the levels and instances, how about a little help here?
Here’s where my story turns a little ugly. You might want to turn away.
This college puke, that never had the time to PvP or do anything even remotely guild-oriented in Star Wars and SOMEHOW talked his way into guild leadership, posted that he was willing to help with info and tips (tips. heh. what a fuck.), but he’d be damned if he was going to do quests for anyone in this game.
I’m paraphrasing here, but was something like he “wasn’t going to carry anyone through the levels, and the posters could put in the same effort that he and the others (rogues and hunters) were.” Y’know, meaning that the priests were lazy and that his work ethic was beyond reproach.
With the advent of voice capability in gaming nowadays, I like to save my best work for the TeamSpeak channel where EVERYONE is sure to hear exactly what I think of stupid college fucks that shoot their mouths off. I don’t do it often, I’ll usually choke back my anger, but that hairless puke was asking for it.
From memory, after the first “go fuck yourself” flew in the channel, the guildleader hauled all the parties into a private channel to chill. College puke wanted an apology for my insubordination (o ya, that was going to happen in his lifetime) and I wanted him to drop the attitude (also not going to happen in a lifetime).
I’d like to say we reached a happy happy joy joy compromise, there was much hugging, back pounding and hearty handshakes. But that would be lying.
Tomorrow: I become persona non grata and the mighty falls to its knees.