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aka Leigh and Bloom versus the DPS Who Really Ought To Be Ashamed Of Themselves By Now

You know who you are. You roll into a dungeon, the big, strong dps, the damage dealers, the ones who put up the big numbers and make the bad guys fall down. And then suddenly the tank steamrolls the whole dungeon, leaves you in the dust, and puts you to absolute shame.

This is understandable sometimes at low levels, especially with paladin tanks. But Leighroy does this regularly even still, at level 65. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been generally getting better. She typically only does about 35-40% of the group’s damage these days, a handful of people can beat her pure dps score (though very, very few beat her overall damage), and the trend has been positive. But every once in a while …

Every once in a while, this happens. This recount was recorded during an Underbog run, and no, I didn’t rig it by not resetting. That’s the full run, start to finish.

What we have right here is a tank doing 52% of the group’s damage while simultaneously blowing their dps out of the water, at level 65. That sort of thing really shouldn’t happen anymore. I know, I know, two of them are warriors, but we’ve seen a warrior doing 650 dps — they are capable.

I need to add that we’re not calling out the people in that recount. They were a fairly friendly bunch, and fine enough to group with. We tend to get chatty with groups we like, whereas when we don’t like a group, all the conversation is in guild chat where they can’t see it, and this was definitely a chatty group.

Moral: How we long for the day when there will be three damage dealers on top of the charts, with Leigh in fourth. I’m not convinced it will ever happen. We still haven’t even hit two yet, and one is such a rare happenstance that we take note of it and cheer.

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aka Leigh and Bloom versus the Angry Mage Tank

A couple nights ago we found ourselves in Sunken Temple for the last time ever. After approximately a thousand runs through the place in our late 40s and early 50s, this came as something of a relief — our party members constantly manage to get lost in the place. But before we could truly escape, we had to have one last showdown with a terrible dps.

The player in question is Pheen, a mage from the Stormreaver server. Things went downhill in a hurry, as Pheen found himself with two imps on him while Leigh was tanking a group of mobs further down a passageway.

A mage faced with this situation has a few options. One, he can frost nova the mobs and either back up to kill them or run to the tank. Two, he can use his blink spell to escape and run to the tank. Three, he can realize there’s a healer right there with him and that he can burn the two little imps down without a problem. Or four, he can immediately begin spewing insults and then refuse to stop for the rest of the run. Three guesses which option is Pheen’s favourite.

Pheen wasted no time, even while killing the imps safely with a healer right there in range, to start calling Leighroy a retard and a bad tank. Because obviously, you know, she should have psychically known that he was under attack way back there and should have dropped all her tanking in order to rush back and save him from the two little imps, arriving at the same time as he’d already killed them anyway. Obviously.

Unable to get over his sudden burning rage, Pheen continued to insult Leigh, including, bizarrely, taking a dig at her spelling, which is hilarious because a) she types better than 99.9% of the game population and b) well, just wait till we get to the screenshot below.

Taking matters into his own little gnome hands, Pheen began pulling mobs and attempting to mage-tank. Leigh ignored him and moved on to other enemies when he pulled some, further fuelling his anger. I told him that I wouldn’t heal him if he was pulling mobs, which turned his anger toward me. He ice blocked, saving himself and putting all of his aggro onto me, because of healing threat. A tree druid healing herself is pretty hard to kill though. So, y’know, nice try asshole.

We jumped down into the dragons and Pheen took some more damage. I kept my eye on his health and rescued him before he died. He jumped all over me, saying that druids were terrible healers and I was the reason why. Our boomkin told him to stick a sock in it, to which Pheen replied that he should “stfu and waddle away”.

Figuring that we had mined him enough for blog material, and deciding that he had to go now that he was turning his insults on other players, I prepared to kick him from the group as soon as our current combat was over. I’m glad I didn’t manage to do it, because Pheen then delivered a tremendous speech:

Pheen gives a stirring farewell speech, so insightful and cutting that everyone was instantly ashamed that we hadn't pampered his ass all run long.

Click the picture and give that a read. Seriously. My friends, that is some epic buffoonery right there. If any of you, ever, for whatever reason, feel the urge to say something like this to a group of people, remember this post and hesitate. Pheen left the group, and we spent the rest of the run laughing about this.

My only regret is that I didn’t get to say “No one insults mah boomkin” and then kick his ass.

So long, Sunken Temple. Your twisted passageways gave us so many interesting groupmates.

Moral: Take some responsibility for your own play. If you blame everything on others and act like an enormous asshole, the tank won’t save you, the healer won’t heal you, and you’ll be all alone, with no one listening to your endless bitching. And the gameplay-wise lesson is that you should take mobs to the tank. Never expect the tank to come to you; sometimes they will if they can, but tanks don’t look at party health bars a lot because that’s not their job, they probably have no idea you’re under attack. If you have to lose an ounce of dps to bring your mob over to the tank so you can have your life saved, well boo hoo. Chances are good it’s your own fault that something is attacking you anyway.

aka Leigh and Bloom vs the Sabotaging Hunter.

It was a Sunken Temple run like any other…I weaved my way through the instance, guiding my party members with my mad leet directional skills.  We had killed all of the trolls on the upper level and had descended to the lower, smushing dragons as we went.  On our way to Jammal’an the Prophet, one of my teammates posed a question: would we be killing Atal’alarion?

Normally, we skip this boss–generally speaking, no one wants to bother going into the basement of an already very long dungeon to kill a boss that needs to be unlocked with a puzzle, and whose loot table is rather small.  I had killed him once before in the possibly hundreds of times Bloom and I had been to this instance.  But our peer needed him for a quest, so we killed the Prophet and obliged him.

(I may have possibly pulled a fail move and jumped down from the middle, but shh, don’t tell anyone!)

At any rate, we got down there and began clearing out trash, which was going pretty well, but our hunter, a charming individual named Porktits, was being impatient and pulling groups by herself.  I asked her to stop, and promptly set her waiting at one of the statues to keep her out of trouble.

After I had carried on and set two more people at statues, I can only assume it dawned on her what I had done.  Either that, or she made a mistake and was so startled that she only typed the first two letters of an expletive…

She said, “fu” in party chat, to which I responded with, “?”

Seconds later, someone exclaimed that she had cast a volley into a group on the second level, and that angry mobs were running up to visit us.

I assumed the worst of her.

“Drop group.” I told Bloom in guild chat.

She and I both did so, and were saved from a gruesome death at the hands of undead tree things.  Yay!

Moral: Uh, when instances are set up to teleport you out upon leaving the group, it’s hard to fuck people over by pulling mobs onto them.  So an idea is, to not try it.  Everyone will be happier, and will have more experience and fewer repair bills, if you don’t try to fuck everyone over.

aka Leigh and Bloom versus the Melee Warlock

What is it with warlocks and Razorfen Kraul? Seriously guys, maybe you should just go quest during those levels.

Sadly we have no memory of this warlock’s name, or perhaps that’s fortunate for his case. Because if a person’s goal in life is to never become part of another group’s ongoing in-joke selection, then I’m sorry, mysterious warlock, but you have failed that goal.

Leigh and Bloom trundled into RFK as they often did in their mid-20s, and found themselves in a group with two warlocks. How did we tell them apart, you ask? Well, it was easy. One of them was standing back casting, as warlocks do, while the other was running up and engaging the mobs in melee combat with his staff.

Now, I play a ledge-climbing, violence-deploring, veggie-eating, mana-spring-adoring druid, so I’m the last person to get upset at a little roleplaying if he had something going on. It was also possible (maybe?) that he didn’t know warlocks were supposed to use spells. Perhaps he saw all those warriors and rogues up there swinging with their weapons and thought to himself, hells yes, I’mma get me some deeps. Even though, y’know … it was the heirloom staff. You never know, right? So we asked him why he was using his staff.

He replied, matter-of-factly, that he was skilling up his weapon.

Now, I don’t know, maybe we’re the bad guys here, but why the good gorramn would anyone, especially someone who has played enough to have an heirloom, try to level up their staves weapon skill during a random dungeon run?

First off, you’re there as part of a group. That group is killing bosses, gaining experience, and rolling on loot drops. If you’re not contributing in some positive manner to the run, then all you’re doing is leeching loot, experience, and money drops off the rest of the group. The damage you do while skilling up a weapon, especially as a caster, is nonexistent; you might as well not even be there.

Second, you’re a frigging warlock. You come with your own tanky voidwalker who will happily keep a mob’s attention while you swing away with your staff out in the world, allowing you to skill it up without wasting anyone else’s time. Well, okay, maybe the voidwalker won’t be happy. But he’ll damn well do it if he knows what’s good for him.

And lastly … and I’ll say this slowly so that, if you ever read this, you will understand … You. Are. A. Warlock. You will never need to swing your staff at something. Ever. Period. You could be flat out of mana and it would still be better to stand back and use your wand. I myself, as a healer, have a staves skill of 3. I think I gained those two points by accidentally taking whiffs at enemy totems.

I know, I know, there’s an achievement for having enough weapon skills at 400/400. But even if you’re that concerned about gaining that achivement on an alt, there are many, many better ways to do it than leeching on an RFK run to get your skill up to 100-something.

Leigh’s favourite part came when the second warlock, the one who was actually casting spells, complained that he was having to carry the melee warlock. One glance at the Recount window revealed that Leigh was in fact doing about 60% of the group’s damage, with the second warlock doing about 20-25% and the other dps doing the remainder. Leighroy informed the second warlock that, actually, it was her who was carrying the melee lock. Really, at that point, she was pretty much carrying everyone.

The melee lock eventually got enough skill points and joined in with some spells. Leigh still ended up with a good 50% of the group’s damage (40-50% of the overall damage has been a common result for her well into the 40s, including one Zul’Farrak run where she scored 54%). And we ended up with a lasting in-joke. Whenever someone in a group of ours apologizes for low dps, we tell them that it’s okay — at least they’re not a melee warlock.

Moral: If you’re taking part in a group’s success, please at least try to contribute to that success. We’ll forgive you if your gear is bad or if you don’t have enough AoE to compete with the mage. We’ll forgive you if you’re still figuring things out or if you’re distracted by your dog. But if you’re not even attempting to do anyone any good, not even after your idiocy is pointed out to you, then hey, I’m sorry, but you’re just a melee warlock.

Ninjas generally come in four varieties — (1) the sort who gives good gear to a friend or a guildie even though someone else wins the roll, (2)  the sort who rolls need on offspec gear and keeps it even though it would be an upgrade for someone running a main spec in the group, (3) the sort that strikes from the shadows and kills you and everyone you’ve ever cared about before you even know they are there, and (4) the sort I like to call “Dude, WTF.”

In our mid-20s, Leigh and I braved the twisted paths of Razorfen Kraul, which in my opinion is one of the cooler low level dungeons. We had with us a gnome warlock whose name escapes me at the moment, but I will edit it in when Tuesday maintenance is finished and I can access my ignore list.

EDIT: the gnome’s name was Freesshh, from the Stormreaver server. As of this writing, I note that he is now level 73 and in good gear. I have no idea what was going on during the story to follow, but hey, it happened.

In short order we came to Aggem Thorncurse. We dispatched him (and his little boar, too), and as always, he dropped Thornspike, his +8 agility dagger. Funny how that +8 agility doesn’t save him from getting his ass owned by every group to come within 100 yards of him. Anyway.

We had a rogue in the group who naturally rolled need on this fine piece of quilboar craftsmanship. The warlock also rolled need.

Thankfully the rogue won the roll and received the dagger. Now, being the optimistic fool I sometimes am, I tried to assume the best of the warlock’s actions. He was a quiet player and wasn’t doing great dps, so I thought he might be new to this whole thing, and he only rolled need because warlocks are able to use daggers. I explained to him that agility is useless for warlocks and that he shouldn’t roll need on things that aren’t good for him. He responded with “k”, that truly multi-purpose letter.

The run continued and the warlock didn’t roll need on anything else he couldn’t use. I was reassured that I had taken the right path, that I had helped this poor newbie warlock better learn how to function in a group, saving future groups the pain of dealing with his misconceptions. I had Done Good, as do-gooders are wont to do.

We came to the last boss, and we put her in the ground. The Heart of Agamaggan dropped, a shield that despite the preponderance of spirit is often an overall upgrade for tanks at this level (many of whom are rocking a turtle shield from Wailing Caverns). Leigh rolled need.

So did the warlock.

The roll was not immediately resolved because one of the dps was in the process of disconnecting and couldn’t roll. We went after the gnome warlock, demanding to know why he rolled need on it. He told us that he had mistakenly thought it was a quest item.

There was still a chance at redemption here. He could still have gone to gnome heaven someday, where buxom gnome lasses play on whirring machinery all day. We told him that if he won it, he needed to give it to Leigh, since she could actually use it. The roll was finally resolved. The warlock won. And, of course, he immediately dropped group and scampered back to his own server.

What’s the point, I wonder, of ninjaing a BoP item you can’t even use? I imagine him scurrying into his little gnome hole somewhere, clutching his prize in sweaty little hands. Maybe he puts it into a nest fashioned from his ninja’d items. Perhaps he likes to hold it in front of him and pretend he’s a tank. Maybe he just really, really needed the 63 silver you’d get from vendoring it.

Moral: If you roll need on items you don’t actually need, you will go on the ignore lists of decent and good folk. They will spread your name so that others might know of your deeds. And before long you’ll find yourself only able to group with other ninjas. All five of you will crouch around your kill, wild-eyed and grunting, wondering who will betray the others first. You won’t know until you feel their hot teeth in your neck as the brawl begins. The winner will rise triumphant, clutching his blue offhand of the gorilla in a bloodied fist, and he will cry his victory to the heavens as the others wail and gnash their teeth at his feet. Then you all go to gnome hell, where the buxom gnome ladies turn out to be sharp-clawed imps in disguise and you always get your genitals caught in the whirring gears.

Seriously, don’t take other people’s well-earned shit.

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