August Musings

So it's been a while since my last post...the summer lull has hit even my interweb usage it seems.

However, the nature of keeping a blog means one must occasionally think about it - it's not like I go about my days in a blogless void, then sit in the evening for two hours and bash out some readable material for the internets.

Anyway, this month, a whole number of different thoughts have crossed my mind.

Some are thoughts born of frustration, such as why nobody has found a better solution to managing codecs on computers: I've spent countless hours installing and uninstalling crap, fiddling with the registry and all manner of shennanigans to try and make audio encoding in MP3 work on my computer, but to no avail.

I'm at my wits end with regards to this - perhaps the gods of Microsoft would only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin, or maybe a goat, which is a bit beyond me. Where would I find a goat?

Also, George RR Martin. On a side note, is it coincidence that great fantasy writers have two "R's" in their initials? Anyway, after having finished reading A Dance with Dragons, the latest book in the A Song of Ice and Fire series, I now have to wait until the next book comes out to see what happens, but that's not what really frustrates me. See, what really makes me grind my teeth and slam shut the book, only to open it again to continue reading is his gift for writing characters which you root for, and then systematically making things go very bad for them, which as a reader, is a frustrating (albeit gripping and compelling) experience.

It does make me want to grab him by his lapels, shake him a bit, and shout "Why?! Why are you doing this to them!?". Tolkien was never half as cruel to his hobbits.

Some thoughts are ones of reflection. It's been more than a month since I graduated from University now. So I have now officially joined the Real World Club. It's a very surreal feeling, and I doubt it will sink in until I start working for real, but it's a little weird to think that ever since I started going to school (at the age of 5), this was my inevitable destination at the peak of the educational summit for the non-PhD inclined. And having reached that peak, there are no great views, only two pieces of paper.

To be honest, if University was Amazon, my feedback would go something like this:

"Paid £12000 tuition + £15000 maintenance for 1 x MEng degree. Took 4 years to deliver, came with brain damage and alcohol abuse, and wasn't even wrapped very nicely. Would not buy again."

All joking aside though, it was worth it. Probably.

Video Interlude!

In between having thoughts, I also made the time to make a little tribute video to the little sport I love, probably better known as Badminton to everyone else. The idea for the video occured when I was watching epic music montages of Formula 1 videos, which lead to other awesome music montages of football, and rugby, and tennis, and then I looked for badminton ones, and discovered that they didn't really exist. Time for me to step in to try and fill the hole.

Let me know what you think!

Anyway, back on topic - so far, I've shared some musings of frustration and reflection, other thoughts are a little more random: Why is the Star Wars line: "No, I am your father." always misquoted to "Luke, I am your father."? How late is it socially acceptable to stay in bed till (disregarding hangover days)? I managed 3pm yesterday, and I think that's my limit. Are brainy people genetically brainy, or is it only because of an attitude to learning? And on that note, why do a lot of people think being incompetent is cool? It's funny, that I'll grant, but elsewise if you're breathing the world's air, eating the world's food and looting the world's shops then you should really be putting something back into the world, instead of only your sense of entitlement and videos of you posing next to your stolen Sony Bravia.

It is known.

The above sentence might come across as a mite condescending, which it is, but the message behind it is sincere. There's been a lot of discussion everywhere by everyone about the London riots, but I think when you break it down, there's only two things we ("society") should take from this.

1. Human beings are human beings (or human beans, to hear my mother say it). It was interesting to read the profiles of those who were sentenced in court - of course there were the usual suspects - the people on the low end of the socio-economic scale, but there was also a teacher, a university graduate and others who really should know better.

2. The attitude towards achievement needs to be changed. The "everyone is a winner" and "failing is okay" approach which is being doled out in soft comforting lumps in the education system needs to change, because the real world simply isn't like that. More importantly, the expectations and aspirations of the next generation needs to be tempered with knowledge. "Must-have" items are not Blackberries, MP3 players and LCD TVs. They are food, water and shelter.

I feel that a lot of the current young generation have been deluded with deluge of marketing ads and raised in an instant gratification culture, where although the idea of having a nice pad, the car and the beautiful wife with the 2.5 kids seems great, it's a nebulous future which can only be reached by putting their noses to the grindstone, but why do that when you can get an instant dopamine kick by drinking, partying and playing video games?

And all of this is silently condoned by a ridiculous nanny state which lets us all know that it's okay to not take personal responsibility for our welfare. David Cameron will hug us, in our hoodies, and give us money so we can still have our Blackberries and LCD TV's eventually.

There are also two things the rioters and looters should take from this:

1. There are no shortcuts in life.

2. The quality of a person's life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor.

Memoires (Part 13 - Epilogue)

Letting go is never easy.

That was the thought that lingered on my mind as I stood at the window of my hospital room, peering down into the courtyard below. I placed my hands on the cool white stone and curled my toes in the thick rug carpet laid in my room as unbidden, images of Ragnaros and Nefarian flashed through my mind.

I was a broken warrior, a crushed spirit, and I was no longer fit to serve as the head of the alliance that had protected Azeroth against the malignant intentions of its foes. A part of me raged at the decision, though I had put it forward myself to step down. A part of me raged at the weakness in me, but a part of me was glad it was finally over. 

I thought after I stepped down I would find peace, although what I found was only nightmares and remonstrations.

Today I was due to be discharged from hospital, where priests and druids had chanted healing spells over me and where warlocks had tried to exorcise my demons. I was as healed as I was ever likely to get, they had told me, and the rest would be up to me.

A soft knock came upon the door behind me, a heavy oaken thing.

A serving maid entered, holding my clothes, cleaned and repaired. She was a pretty girl in her teenage years. Nothing more than a child to night elves, but nearly a woman grown in human terms. She would not meet my eyes as she set my items on the bed, and said not a word as she left as quickly as she'd come.

I sighed as I dressed, pulling on the silken breeches, then slipping into supple leather boots and pulling the robe over my head. It was to be expected; illness of the mind often feared by those who did not understand it, and it was not definitely not well understood by most.

I had no other belongings, save a letter which I tucked into a pocket, and my staff, which I picked up on my way to the door. The oaken wood of the shaft was smooth, inlaid with silver ornamentation and it thrummed with the power of enchantments as I gripped it, calloused skin on the knurling.

I walked, soundless, through Stormwind's military hospital. It was late afternoon and the place was not busy. I passed through long corridors and courtyards, simply decorated with tapestries of blue on gold, laid onto the whitestone that all Stormwind was made from. It was a cloudless day, and sunlight streamed through arched windows, making the whitestones seemingly glow.

Presently, I reached the main foyer. The receptionist was curt and perfunctory, and I signed my discharge papers in silence. He barely looked at me as I turned to leave the hospital, a place where I'd spent a month recuperating after I had left the front lines in Silithus.

The day was warm, and as I wandered through the city sweat began to prickle at my skin. I didn't mind though, the sun felt good on my face, and the cobblestones felt good beneath my feet. A few people stopped and stared as I walked past them; my face was not unfamiliar for the victories I had won for Azeroth. From henceforth though, I was no longer to be a warrior.

I passed through the trade district, filled with the bustle of people hawking their wares; the rumble of carts filled with fruits from Elwynn forest, the clucking of chickens and the shouted haggling. I made my way over a bridge spanning the canals and into a park, where white cobblestones turned to soft grass.

Birds chirped as they flitted around the tree tops as I breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of earth and plant and life. It seemed like I was smelling them for the first time. I went to the moonwell. It's blue waters lapped at the whitestone it was nestled in, and I could feel the cool air rising above the surface, filled with whispers of magic and purity.

Time to go home, I thought. Teldrassil awaits.

I left the park, emerging back into the throngs of people that were gathered on the streets of Stormwind, when behind me I heard a shout.

"Lyara! Lady Lyara!"

A red faced boy was pushing his way through the crowd, panting with the effort of some run. He reached me, too breathless to speak. I waited for him to recover, wordless.

"I...I was meant to find you before you left the hospital, but I got lost..." he wrung his hands, "I have a message from the boy king Anduin Wrynn. He seeks your audience."

"I will go to him."

An audience with the king. Somewhat unexpected.

I turned from the direction I was heading, and made for the Keep. The page boy fell in behind me.

The boy king Anduin Wrynn looked extremely tiny, sat on the massive throne that made even grown men look small. A throne should flatter a man, not diminish him, I thought to myself as I kneeled before him.

I glanced around the room as I stood at his bidding. All of the tapestries had been replaced, but there were still claw marks on the whitestones of the walls and floor where Onyxia had left her mark. To the king's right stood Bolvar Fordragon, who smiled and saluted. Nobody stood to the king's left, the place where Lady Katrana Prestor had once occupied.

"I am pleased to recieve a hero today," said the King, his boyish voice undermining the words a little.

"I am pleased to be recieved by your grace," I replied.

"Azeroth has asked much of you, and it is only fitting now that your service is ended, Stormwind be allowed to repay you in kind, for we owe you much. Name your reward, and you shall have it, Lyara."

"I have nothing to ask of Stormwind, your grace. I seek only to return home to Teldrassil."

"Then we shall provide you with a swift ship, and an honour guard," said the King.

"You are most kind," I replied.

"Lord Fordragon," said the King, "if you would."

Bolvar descended the steps towards me. Though a great man he was, he was still shorter than me, his head reaching up my chin.

"My lady," he said, "If you would follow me, I will take you to your quarters. A ship and a guard will be made ready to leave on the morrow."

Though my chambers were opulent, and the bed was the most comfortable I had ever lain in, sleep did not come easily, and when it did, it was fitful. I wondered constantly about my companions, about the war in Silithus, about the void that was the rest of my life that stretched out before me. What would I do with myself now that I could no longer fight?

I rose with the dawn, tired but also feeling restless. At my call, a servant arrived to bring me breakfast; a bowl of thick hearty porridge, freshly baked bread, warm and crusty and delicious cold meats.

It was mid-morning before Bolvar Fordragon sent for me. A score of Stormwind guardsmen clad in shining silver plate burnished with the lion crest waited for me outside the keep as he escorted me out. They were mounted on warhorses, magnificently dressed in the gold and blue of Stormwind, matching their own cloaks. I felt underdressed for the occasion. Their captain held the reins of a horse for me, a slender chestnut mare.

I mounted in one fluid motion, perhaps surprising the guard with the grace of my movements. Bolvar saluted.

"These men will see you safely to Teldrassil. Thank you for all you've done, Lyara, the realm will remember you."

I inclined my head, unsure of how to respond to such words. Bolvar nodded back at me. We turned our horses and left for the harbour, clip clopping through the streets of Stormwind. Crowds gathered to witness our passage, I could hear my name being whispered amongst them.

The port of Stormwind was a busy one, and usually seethed with activity - the comings and goings of merchant galleys, the portside fish market and the comings and goings of great warships. Today however, a path to the docks through the throng merchants, fishermen and would be passengers had been created by a cordon of guards, and they stood, their curiosity piqued, waiting to see who the fuss was for.

I felt a little out of place as the procession passed towards the docks. The victory belongs to all of us, not just me, I thought. I hope they honour all of my comrades in the same fashion.

"We'll be taking the Sunswift, my lady," said the guard Captain to me. "It's reputedly the fastest ship in all of Azeroth."

I smiled. The elves have long known ways to work the seas and winds that would make a heavy warship faster than the fleetest cargo runner that the humans had, but I allowed the captain his moment of pride.

My smile turned into a cry of joy as I saw who was assembled at the end of the wooden docks, and I kicked my mare into a gallop. I raced down the dockway and leapt off the mare.

Before me stood my guild, the Revenants, assembled in all of their glory, along with our stalwart allies from Resurrectable. I looked from face to face, they were all there. My friends and companions, those who I had commanded and fought with and laughed with and drank with and spent my life with. A swell of emotion rose in my chest, as a lump rose in my throat. They stood, their cloaks stirring in the stiff sea breeze, their armour polished, a motley crew of adventurers to be sure, but heroes each and every one.

"You're all here..." I said, my voice shaking slightly.
"We're all here now," replied Chaspal, as brusquely as ever, "You were missing before."
"I'm going home," I said.
"And we're here to see you off," he replied.

The goodbyes took the whole morning. Some were short; a simple hug or a clasp of the hands. Others were longer affairs. Someone told me once that warriors do not cry, but I was no longer a warrior as of that day, and so cry I did.

Finally, I made my way up the gangplank, flanked by my escort of Stormwind guards. The ship cast away, oars slapping at the water as they pulled to the slow beat of a drum. I watched as my companions kneeled on the docks.

"All hail!" shouted Chaspal, kneeling.
"Hail!" came the cry from those assembled. It rang through the air, above the noise of the gathered crowd.

I stood on the stern, watching as my companions on the docks shrank from view, followed by the dock itself and then the harbour, and finally the sight of land, leaving only the calm flat expanse of a summer sea to keep me company. 

The wind blew in my hair and my heart sang of joy and sorrow. I remembered a day, seemingly a thousand years ago, when I had held tight to a hippogryph as it bore me away from Teldrassil over grey seas.

The sun shone down on the Sunswift, as the golden prow sliced through the water. I prayed that for those heroes I had left, the sun would never cease to shine.

"Hail," I whispered.

Memoires (Part 12 - Burning out, Breaking down)

Like the tide, we swept through the rest of Blackwing Lair. I would not have called our progress swift, but it was implacable.

Over the next two months, we took the bosses down one by one; Vaelastrasz, Broodlord Lashlayer, Firemaw, Ebonroc and Flamegor and Chromaggus. Finally, there was only one left; Nefarian, the leader of the Black Dragonflight.

In many ways, working on Nefarian was one of the most satisfying things we did as an alliance - we methodically honed our strategies on him, practised and practised patiently, knowing that it was only a matter of time until we killed him. I felt that we had matured somewhat as a raid group, since those early days. It was natural, things fell into place.

However, when Nefarian gave his final bellow and crashed down before us, I felt nothing. The rest of the raid group shouted and screamed and congratulations flew thick and fast, just as they'd done for Ragnaros, but I remember merely sitting back in my seat, crossing my arms and forcing out a smile: I knew I should have been ecstatic, but something was missing that was there before.

The stress of constantly being there, constantly leading, constantly sorting out disputes and issues and managing a community which had now grown to over a hundred members was taking it's toll; I knew I was on the way to burning myself out.

As the next raid dungeon was not due to be released for a while, I considered stepping back from running the alliance, to allow myself to recharge. However, I was never good at letting go of things, and after spending so much energy in building the alliance and the community, I wanted to continue leading it, so I did.

However, each raid became more and more like a chore, and so over the next few weeks the fun slowly bled from the game. I would log on and just sit in Ironforge, the hub city and chat with whoever was on. I would regularly decline party invites from most of the alliance members, unless they were from a select group of the close friends I had made within the officers and senior members of the alliance.

It was not the way I wanted to be playing the game. However, I carried on anyway.

My enthusiasm was somewhat revitalised when the next dungeon was released - Ahn'Qiraj. T3M attacked the dungeon with the usual fervor and excitement, but I could not suppress the feeling that I had done all of this before. Whereas before, when raids went well I felt always a sense of satisfaction, now I only felt that this was the way things were supposed to be, and whenever raids went badly, the frustration only piled higher and higher and made me lose the will to play.

The administration side of things was also grinding my nerves; there were some problems, of course, with more raiders than raid spots some people did not get invited as much, and there were also problems with the DKP system. By this point though, I was tired to the point where I didn't react or give as much thought to these problems as I should have, leading to them remaining unsolved for some time.

Finally, the politics. In February 2006, SWE and Blue Moon had chosen to merge as a guild, and it was the perfect chance for the alliance of three guilds to become as one, thereby unifying T3M and the guild codes of conduct, and also silencing the cries of guild favouritism that had been popping up as of late. However, the idea was opposed vociferously by Chaspal, the guild master of the Revenants. In the end, the motion to pass was not voted through.

As the alliance delved deeper into Ahn'Qiraj, it seemed that the alliance was becoming ever more fractious, and I had to spend more time dealing with trifling issues than actually raiding. In short, what fun that was left in the game was quickly stamped out, as I became what seemed to me a human resources manager, bending and balancing to keep everyone happy.

Of course, this was an impossible task.

Finally, with a family holiday abroad impending, I took the decision to step back from leading. I realised that jaded as I was, I would not be doing the alliance any favours if I continued to lead them. Chaspal and Death, as well as a rogue by the name of Aldassia took up where I left off. However, things did not improve. Chaspal and Death were respectively the GM's of Revenants and Resurrectable, the two guilds left in the alliance after Blue Moon and SWE merged, and when they did the invites there were inevitable shouts of favouritism, which, being privy as I was to the officer chat channels have to say was not unfounded. However, the officers had to put a unified face to the alliance, and so I breathed no word of it hoping that Death and Chaspal would sort out the rift between them.

Aldassia had an altogether different leading style which I didn't agree with. She was hungry for success, and perhaps not as patient, and so often where I would have used the carrot, she would instead choose the whip.

Still, I was still tired by my stint at the helm of the alliance, and chose to just play my part as a healer and not get too involved publically, although behind closed doors, I gave my opinions openly.

Then, I went on holiday. A month in China. The first week was exceedingly weird, without access to the game. I somehow itched to play, not through want but through habit, and checked the forums as often as I could. However, as the holiday took my away from the game, so too did the tedium and stress that came with leading the alliance. I realised that I did not miss it, and that I had changed as a person, and the rewards I was getting out of the game was not worth the effort I was putting in.

When the holiday finished, I returned to the game. It felt different to before. The addiction was broken, the magic faded. I led a few raids when I came back, but not eagerly.

Over the next few months, I began to play less and less, and finally in December 2006 my subscription ran out and I did not renew. I still cared about the alliance, to be true, and wished with all my heart for their success, but knew I could no longer be the one to lead them to it. I was completely and utterly burnt out.

I never made a goodbye post on the forums though; it didn't feel like I was saying goodbye. I was still talking regularly to the friends I had made even though we weren't playing the same game anymore. The friendships had transcended that virtual world.

Over the years, I have re-subscribed quite a few times, to see how Blizzard had changed the world, to play new areas and to catch up with acquaintances long lost. However, the magic had well and truly departed and my visits to Azeroth were always brief.

In writing this series of Memoires, I had initially intended it to be a gateway series of tales that would explain to non-gamers the world of MMORPGs, it became more of a recounting of my own adventures, and finally now, I realise, the only fitting way to write a goodbye to a game which consumed me for close to 2 years of my life and funnily enough, four years after I really "quit", a way to provide the final closure.

There are plenty of people I want to pay tribute to; people who I laughed with, people who have proved themselves to be good friends and people who provided me with inspiration and support. The list would be long, and untimely, coming now over four years after when it was really due, so I won't write it. But if you're one of those people and happen to read this; you know who you are, thank you.