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guild trippin'

I did something that I’d never do yesterday.

I quit my Guild.

You’re thinking, wait, slackmistress, you need the Writers’ Guild. They give you like, insurance and stuff, don’t they?

Not that Guild.

No, yesterday I quit the guild in which Older Slackbrother J. refers to as “fake nerd world.”

Sergeant Sanguine, my level 60 undead rogue, quit the Black Maw Clan.

I had reached the second stage of grief in my breakup with A.

Anger.

The fact is I went from denial to acceptance in record time. I just haven’t been angry about much during this time. Attribute that to being older, wiser, or just plain lazy. I find that anger is a wasted emotion. People get angry about situations that are completely out of their control. Or over situations that are totally in their control but refuse to change.

Sure, it's been tremendously hard. I lost my house. I lost my social circle. And most importantly, I lost the love of my life.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back?

I lost my Guild.

A. and I spent many Saturdays at our respective computer playing World of Warcraft. So when we broke up, it was an enormous issue. He thought perhaps we could still play together. I explained to him we couldn’t. If we weren’t hanging out in the real world, we couldn’t hang out in the virtual one.

However, we agreed that we could share our Guild, the Black Maw Clan Although many of the guild members were A.'s real-life friends, they had become my friends as well. There was curmudgeonly F., who had been A.’s roommate. He never socialized anymore since he started dating his girlfriend, but we knew we could find him online Saturday afternoons playing his warlock. F. complained a lot, but was a blast to group with. Then there was C., who worked for A. We had had C. over for many a party, and even on Christmas, spending the day eating and playing Burnout 3. C. was a druid, and his playing style was similar to an ADD kid who had confused his Ritalin with Vivarin, aggroing mobs left and right and yelling HELP! So many times that we thought it might be a macro. Occasionally we were joined by Z., a warrior with a sick sense of humor. A. was a Priest, which meant that he could heal and resurrect us if we died. As a Rogue, I rounded out the group, sometimes acting as a damage-dealer, sometimes sneaking into places they couldn’t go to assess our next fight.

After I moved out of the house, A. and I settled into a routine of ignoring each other in guild chat. It waas somewhat successful. But World of Warcraft is a game of cooperation. And I hate cooperation. As my preschool teacher noted, I don’t play well with others. Most WoW players are fifteen year old boys who are the equivalent of MySpace Whores. Everything is “ghey” and everyone is a “n00b.” They like to exclaim that they’re going to “rape” the other faction, which I find amusing as I’m certain the only thing their penis has been in is a fistful of Vaseline.

I learned to fly solo.




I collected herbs to sell.




I killed Deadwood Furbolgs to up my Timbermaw Rep.

But the high-end endgame content for World of Warcraft is designed for five to forty people. While I knew in the Maw we’d never be running forty-man raids, I imagined that we’d run through some of the five-man with our motley group of gamers.

Yesterday, A. was offline. C. and F. wanted to run Dire Maul Tribute, a five-man instance. Z. was joining them. I asked to go, and was invited in the group

There were four of us, and we needed a healer to fill the fifth spot. There was one other high-level healer in our guild, but she wasn’t online.

Which meant that we had to wait for A.

I wasn’t angry at them- you need a healer more than you need a pickpocket. I thanked them and dropped the group.

It had taken me nearly a year to reach level 60 – the highest level that you can attain – and I now was never going to be able to participate in any of it.

Sure, I could just quit Warcraft altogether, save the fifteen or so dollars it costs me every month to play. But I like playing. It’s relaxing. It’s fun. It’s a way of being semi-social without having to put on underwear.

I wasn’t angry at A. Or his friends. Or even myself.

It was time to take action.

/gquit.

I quit the Guild.

I have other characters still in the Black Maw Clan, a 42 Troll Mage and a 13 Undead Priest. But until we have another high-level priest besides A., there’s no room for 60 Rogue.

Sure, I'm hurt. And sad. And amused by the fact that I somehow got entangled in the nerdiest breakup ever.

Maybe someday, Sanguine will return to the Maw.

Or maybe she'll find another guild.




I'll be waiting at the mailbox...





xo
Sergeant Sanguine
Level 60 Undead Rogue
Formerly of the Black Maw Clan