Previously … my guild begged the raiding core to return to World of Warcraft from Lord of the Rings Online, where we were happy and birds sang and women were free with their sexuality. Despite all that free love, we answered the call of duty and were prepared to do what was necessary, as long as our “good ole boys” faction was similarly prepared to do what was necessary. It was about then that the word “mutiny” was whispered. By me.
Recall that we, the raiding core, spent an ENTIRE WEEK on Ventrilo talking to Boss Hogg and the good ole boys about what we’d need to rebuild our guild into its former glory — and in modern gaming, rebuilding is de facto, every few months, here we go again type stuff. We, the raiding core, knew the kind of nuts that would be required to restore glory. Like … logging in when we really didn’t wanna, logging in when we’d rather watch the final Sopranos half-season (and wtf!), logging in when our imaginary girlfiends preferred we didn’t … it’s a commitment, we got it. Been there, and y’know …
We were denied and we were not happy. Guildmates /whispered to and fro. As I said, it was about then that the principal good ole boy enemy announced he would be offline for a week and I floated the idea of Mutiny.
It started as a joke, then the idea became more than just a dream. The day before he (PGOB, principal good ole boy) returned, it was a password in the guild /whispers for who was with us … and who wasn’t.
PGOB returned and he was not amused. For the last time, the guild (no, wait, he capitalized that in /tells), The Guild would not bow down to our demands. But we could talk about this (YET AGAIN) in Ventrilo in three days, after he did his vacation laundry. Seriously. He had laundry and he couldn’t be bothered with Ventrilo convos for 3 days.
Although I didn’t understand this whole urgency about laundry, I could wait and said as much. Practically speaking, recruiting post-Burning Crusade was not the cakewalk that pre-BC recruiting was and we had nothing to lose by waiting.
I will always have room in my guild for more casual raiders who have real life issues that require their attention, like babies and children or wives and husbands or jobs or school, but with all due respect to our casual members’ TV/Tivo schedules … where were they when we had our nuts chewed off repeatedly by Nefarian? Where were they when we begged for help with Huhuran? The Twin (gay, incestuous) Emperors, where .. are .. you? Patchwerk? Lil help for some old buccaneers?
I’ll tell you where they weren’t. They weren’t online toughing it out. After those (and more) were on farm, they were online, for damn sure! Magically their real life schedules opened up! They are here now! Get the fatted calf! Invitez plz!
Frankly, some of our casuals used “real life” as a shield when the going got tough, we could all see that. I mean, CMON, you have level 60 horde characters or level 60 anything on another realm, you have time for your guild, you just choose not to be there. I’m cool with that — raiding is not for everyone. But, the silly ass games with promoting founders and good ole boys over raiders, or taking away the raiding officers’ powers from time to time was going to end in Burning Crusade.
And that’s why when their final offer was a new guildleader who played every other week and they added a few shots about what ungrateful … pricks we were, I said “let’s pull the plug.” (Actual quote, except I added some salty language as would be fitting of a mutineer.)
After an hour of private /tells explaining that talks had broken down, I /gquit and logged off.
Had the mutiny failed? Was I destined for the stockades and gallows? Yes. By almost every definition of the word “mutiny”, I had failed. The next day, I was guildless, as were FIVE other guildmembers.
SIX does not a mutiny make.
We didn’t even have enough mutineers to complete the signing of a new guild charter. We had six people to sign — World of Warcraft requires TEN signatures (accounts) to form a new guild.
We leaned on former (sympathetic) guildmembers’ alts and my nephew to fill out the required ten signatures. (My nephew made a new gnome on my server to sign the guild charter … how pathetic am I? Pretty damn.)
So here we were, six guildmates in a new raiding guild, looking at each other and wondering whatever will become of us. The next day, one of the original six disbanded and returned to the comfort of the good old boys’ guild. So … we had FIVE. That, minus me (rogue), plus a warlock = a top-rated arena team. At least we’d have that.
But more importantly, how the FUCK were we gonna clear Karazhan with five? 25-mans were over for a while, clearly, but maybe Karazhan at least?
We had lots of chances of turning back, only we didn’t. We kept going. Because we were holding on to something. Mostly we held on cuz no decent guild on the server would have us after that mutiny stunt.
Tomorrow … I really should have stayed in the Shire.