A Great Australian Adventure (Part 3)

On the face of it, although the grid position for a week long solar endurance race is hardly important compared to say, the grid position for the Abu Dhabi grand prix (where despite the ridiculous straight and 2x DRS zones, the top 10 positions on lap 2 were the top ten at the end of the race), I was still mighty excited about it as my phone alarm went off at some ridiculous hour in the morning (5:30 I believe).

This meant that, despite the fact that in England I find getting out of bed difficult until it's well past noon, on that Saturday I had no trouble shaking off sleep. I headed to the track along with the rest of the drivers and our team manager, Alisdair, for the drivers briefing which commenced at an early hour in the morning. I think it was 7.30am, or something like that. I forget. It was hardly the highlight of the day, even if there was a massive spider which we disturbed from its early morning basking.

After the briefing was over, it was time for the qualifying session, which consisted of a timed lap around Hidden Valley Raceway along with a slalom test and a brake test. I for one was feeling rather nervous about the brake test, given that Endeavour is a pretty heavy car. I was also feeling rather nervous about the timed lap, given that the suspension arms were rubbing on the wheel rims under cornering - not unlike the sort of thing which could lead to catastrophic suspension collapse if the forces were too large. Basically, I was feeling a bit nervous, but it's always good to have a bit of nerves, I guess.

All 37 teams that were to be competing this year milled about in the paddock and pitlane, waiting for their car numbers to be called out. There was a buzz in the air - I think for everyone it was an anticipatory moment - we would all get to see how our cars finally matched up to each other on the track after the months and months of work that had been put into each of our challengers. I was not expecting us to be one of the earlier runners to go given that we still had to have the stickers for Endeavour signed off as the replacement ones had only been affixed late on Friday. Whilst we waited, some of the big guns put in their laps, with team Nuon leading the way.

The pitlane teemed with people

Surprisingly, we were called up a lot earlier than expected - sometime around 8:30. I jumped in the car and strapped myself in. I had to fight down a little bubble of excitement as I flicked the switches and began to trundle towards the end of the pitlane; I knew that I had to keep my blood cool and to drive a conservative lap to avoid damaging the car in hard cornering, the first of which was not helped in any way by the spectators standing along the pit wall turning to take pictures as the car slipped past them.

Leaving the garage

Waiting for go.

It took another five minutes of waiting at the end of the pitlane before I was given the go ahead, and throttled up to max to trundle onto the circuit itself. There was now nothing but the track - slightly distorted by the canopy, the car - a mass of squeaks and vibrations and motor whine, and me. Endeavour isn't really the nicest car to drive by any means, and I think even as solar cars come it's not that good; trying to hustle it around a racetrack was rather like trying to wrestle a whale into a postbox, but at that moment, it felt pretty damn cool.

I pushed as hard as I could, listening for the slightly muted rub of metal on metal that I knew indicated when the rims were contacting the suspension and so drove the lap trying to keep on the threshold of that. The rubbing sound would let me know when I'd reached the limit, and beyond that there was the lovely smell of burning rubber, which I did sniff after taking the lovely downhill double apex left hander a bit too quickly, but c'est la vie.

Solar zoom

After the timed lap came a short slalom test which was cleared without difficulty, and then the braking test which was also passed without difficulty. I was surprised how well Endeavour braked - doing it in half the prescribed length, and I'm told the scrutineer was surprised with how many cut cable ties and other bits of junk came flying out of the front fairing as a result of the sudden stop. Anyway, with everything cleared, I trundled back into the pits and the team set about getting the car on the trailer and with the final packing for the race. Later, we found out that we had qualified 30th, with a time of 3:11. Pole went to team Twente from Holland, with a time of 2:02.

Packing was a fairly arduous process, given that our tools and equipment were spread between two places, and also because we were fairly tight on space as the van we rented was not that big. There was also a lot of other stuff to pack, including food supplies as well as personal belongings (and many people had brought fairly large suitcases). I packed until just after noon along with several others sorting out the toolboxes and everything else at Hidden Valley Raceway before we stopped at the hostel for lunch, and then went to another WSC meeting in the afternoon. At the meeting, we were told such things as: "don't drive on the wrong side of the road" and "road trains can kill you to death", and we were also assigned our first observer - a Malaysian man who turned out to have a serious chain smoking habit.

As we left to go to our workshop at BOC to grab the rest of our things, disaster struck. Our support van - the one which would carry the bulk of the things like the food, water and jerry cans for fuel as well as all the spare parts and so on, had it's back window smashed out as it was backed into a truck at the parking lot. Late afternoon on a Saturday meant that all the rental places were closed, and at any rate, there was no money left in the account to pay for the damage.

The 'oh crap' moment

Who needs windows anyway...

With no other choice available to us, we decided to patch the window up the best we could. Some creative thinking led to the liberal usage of vinyl wrap, duct tape and a sign stolen from our pit garage at Hidden Valley to improvise a rear windscreen. It was then cleared with the authorities in Darwin, who fortunately allowed us to drive with our temporary window down to Adelaide.

Engineering at it's finest

With that crisis over, the packing continued. It was interspersed with dinner, a lovely lamb kofte made by our resident chef Oli A, and staring at a distant thunderstorm. It was perhaps 50km away, but still it was a dazzling display of nature as forks of lightning streaked between the clouds, lighting it up from the inside like a flickering lamp wrapped with fluff. I said at the time it was fairly ominous, and had I known then what was to happen during the race, I'd have said it was a foreshadowing of things to come.

The night wore on. We were originally hoping to be packed fairly early, and thus be able to be well rested for the start on Sunday, but with the incident with the van taking up so much time to sort out, it began to look like some of us wouldn't get any sleep at all. We sent the two solar car drivers who would be driving the first shifts to bed (Tom and Lucy), and the rest of us laboured on. The packing process was complicated by the fact that we had a lot of stuff to pack, and a very limited amount of space to pack it in. This meant we had to be pretty intelligent with the way we packed to not only maximise the usage of the space we had available, but to make sure items ended up where they were needed - for example having some spare tyres and toolboxes and multimeters with the chase car and so on.

Midnight came and went. Drunk people floated on by, wondering as to what the hell we were doing. Then, another disaster; I misplaced the key for the chase car. This nearly drove me half mad with panic, as there was no way we could enter the race without a chase car, and there would be no time tomorrow morning to get a replacement key as we would be leaving too early: we had to find it or else we couldn't race. I nearly despaired as we frantically searched; how would I be able to live with myself if I let the team down by something so stupid and simple? Luckily, fifteen minutes later saw it found nestled snugly underneath some stickers in the back of the lead car. A few deep breaths later to settle my racing heart and cold sweats, and I turned back to one remaining task at hand - getting everyone's personal belongings into the back of the Land Rover Discovery. It was basically a 3D game of Tetris, and it ended up turning out that we had just enough room for everything that needed to go in (with some squeezing and shoving and cursing). A timely stroke of luck.

Exhausted, I collapsed into bed at around 2am, setting the alarm clock for a 4am wake up call. Tomorrow was race day. Tomorrow, we would start this epic adventure. It dawned on me, just as I began to drift off, that it would be an adventure; we would be out in the middle of nowhere, sometimes perhaps a hundred kilometres from the nearest medical aid or food or water. This wouldn't be like traipsing around Dartmoor; if things went wrong badly out here, the consequences could be dire.

I couldn't wait.

A Great Australian Adventure (Part 2)

Scrutineering

Bright and early on Thursday morning, we rolled out of Hidden Valley to meet our scrutineering time slot, where over the next couple of hours our car would be prodded and poked by World Solar Challenge officials to make sure that it complied with all the regulations. There were checks for everything from the length and the width, to how fast the drivers could enter and exit the car, to the lights and the brakes and the electrical systems.

In the end, our car passed on all the important things, but we did pick up a few black marks for the car being a little too long and too wide (10mm and 7mm respectively), although there was nothing we could do about it, as the shell was inherited from 2009. Our rear view camera positioning was also a little bit poor, and there were also some miscellaneous items such as putting high voltage stickers on certain components and covering up a few circuit boards so they could not be inadvertently touched.

The whole process I found rather arduous and extremely tedious, although it did give an opportunity to spy out the cars of the top teams such as Tokai University.

The interior of Tokai (2009 winners)

It was an exercise in envy, as I compared the pristine carbon fibre interior of their car to our aluminium and dirt ridden behemoth. I wondered idly what would have happened if I'd "accidentally" tripped and fell onto it; probably nothing except making a lot of japanese people very angry I guess. The most frustrating thing about  it for me was that I knew if we had had the infrastructure and the support that these guys got, we could have built a car which could have been just as good if not better, as half the battle in making a good solar car is manufacturing it to a good standard, and whilst we as students can come up with a world class design, we simply do not have the manufacturing expertise to turn that design into a high quality reality.

Anyway, scrutineering session over, we towed the car back to our workshop at BOC to make the necessary modifications to get the car signed off on the following day.

Friday rolled around - the day before qualifying, and a brief trip was made to the scrutineering pavilion to sign off the remaining items on the car, as well as for the WSC officials to check our convoy vehicles, as when on the road during the race, the solar car had to have a lead car and a chase car driving in convoy with it, and these cars had certain requirements such as signage, CB radio equipment and flashing lights. 

Unfortunately, BA had lost our stickers for the car and convoy, which meant the signage for our chase and lead cars were made from tape (a key ingredient of any solar car team) and cardboard, however, hasty assurances were made to the WSC official that we would have a better solution for the race, and he seemed to be satisfied. So, all was checked and found to be in good order, and we were sent on our merry way.

The rest of Friday passed in a bit of a blur, but there was probably some packing, and buying of food, and filling of water drums and shenanigans of that variety involved. Alisdair (our team manager) stayed at the track till late to sticker up the car with the replacements that had arrived. I had nothing in particular to do, so I tried to relax as best as I could, and turned in early, though with thoughts of qualifying day dancing around my mind and the anticipation and excitement that came with it, it took awhile before I was able to settle down to sleep...

A Great Australian Adventure (Part 1)

Australia. It's home to the Sydney Opera House, a spiffing collection of coral, a big rock located in the middle of nowhere, as well as a whole bunch of people who can't pronounce "good day" properly.

It's also home to the World Solar Challenge, a 3021km endurance race for solar cars of all shapes and sizes, taking place in a bienniel fashion, pitting competitors against the harsh environment of the Australian bush (and sometimes each other) in a week long marathon from Darwin to Adelaide.

The route

Having worked hard on the car all year, I and the rest of the Cambridge University Eco Racing team were excited to finally get out to Australia to pit ourselves and our car, a tuned up version of the team's 2009 challenger, against the odds. Except, we had to finish building it first, because trying to obtain a degree from Cambridge doesn't really leave a lot of time to be building a car as well.

And so, I arrived in Darwin on the 15th September, stumbling bleary eyed through the tiny airport at 4:30am, to be met by Oli Smith, a fellow team member who'd kindly offered to pick me up. It was a short trip from the airport to the backpacker's hostel where we were staying; Dingo Moon Lodge, which I thoroughly recommend to anyone who is looking for such places.

It was still too early to check in when I arrived, so I lounged by the pool, trying to get it into my head that I was actually in Australia. To be fair, even at the end of my trip, I couldn't get over how familiar some of the places felt to the UK. In fact, to sum Australia up in equation form, it would be simply: AUS = UK + SUN + KANGAROO + ACCENT.

Dingo Moon Lodge

With the car due to arrive a few days after I did, we set about enjoying the sun and the pool, knowing that once the car arrived, we would be fairly busy with finishing it and testing it for the race. A few days passed, which we spent sunbathing, visiting local tourist sites like Litchfield National Park, a Crocodile Farm and an Aviation Museum - it was feeling like a proper holiday, which I think everyone enjoyed. Some time was also taken out to visit hire car companies to sort out support vehicles for the race, as well as to plan out various logistical issues. 

Termite Mounds

Wangi falls.

It was on the way back from the Aviation Museum that we had our first mishap. A novice driver plowed into  the side of our hire car at an intersection, after failing to give way, thinking she had the right of way to turn.. Although the resulting damage didn't appear so bad at first glance, our hire car sustained enough damage that it had to be taken back to Thrifty to be swapped. It also set us back around 3000 Australian Dollars - the standard excess fee, and although we could be expected to get all of it back as the accident was not our fault, the process would take months and effectively emptied CUER's account for the race - a massive setback, given that we are not a cash flush team to begin with.

Our car

Her (dad's) car - ouch

We then received word from the shipping company, Maersk, that our container had arrived in Darwin and would be available for pickup on Tuesday - this was a little later than our original estimate, but still not a big deal. A few more days passed, and Tuesday rolled around, with no sign of our container being released to us, and then things began to get rather more serious. Thus began an epic struggle on Alisdair, our team manager's, part to wade through a mire of bureaucracy to claim what was rightfully ours. He battled with the dark lord of forms, the evil empress of red tape and the Jabberwocky that was the Maersk finance department in an epic struggle lasting a week and a half that involved frayed tempers, heated words and flying detergent. (A more detailed account is given here)

The rest of us were eager to help, but were also rather powerless to, and so we were left to our own devices, frittering away the time by sunbathing, lounging in the pool, and reading. The frustration levels steadily climbed as we realised the four weeks that we had budgeted for completing the car slowly became three, and then as each day passed I began to see us having to pull increasingly longer shifts and to sleep less and less, and the prospect of that was something not even the brilliant weather could cancel out. Finally, once the container had been released to us, four weeks had become two, and we knew we needed to make every minute count if we were to be able to present a decent race car for scrutineering.

We began to set about the work in a determined fashion, resolving to make the best of what we had. I for one was determined not to come to Australia with a supposedly revised car only to end up doing worse than the team in 2009, who covered 1616 km on solar power. The arrival of several more team members who provided more manpower helped greatly.

Hard at work

On most days of that first week when we got the car, we pulled something close to twelve hour shifts, but our efforts paid off as we began to cross items off our massive to-do list. We were putting all of our frustrations into energy to make the car work, and I for one felt quite pleased at the end of each day, because you could look back and see visible signs of progress on all areas of the car, and each day we took one step closer towards the reality of having a finished car. Of course we hit snags, especially with a few electrical gremlins which seemed to be ghosts in the machine but there was nothing that we couldn't solve or work around.

After a week of this frenzied activity, we had a car which we felt was ready to test - we knew this would be of paramount importance due to the extreme endurance nature of the race; reliability is a key factor in the World Solar Challenge, and the only way we were going to ensure reliability was to test as much as possible. So, once the electrical and mechanical systems of the car were ready, we took it out to the dedicated test road, not caring that we had not yet finished fitting the new canopy or the fairing covers, or even painted the car. This earned us some funny looks from some of the more established teams that were also out testing as our mottled black and white and bare carbon fibred livery appeared next to their pristine professional paint jobs.

Endeavour Mk II

Twente

I didn't care though; we weren't out to compete with those top teams, and we were putting kilometres on the  car without any major faults, although for that first test the telemetry was not working and there was a minor problem with the steering wheel having too much play. I ended that day with a big smile on my face, looking like I'd cried tears of joy, as due to the lack of a canopy, all the wind in the outback went straight into my eyes as I was driving Endeavour along, leading to tears streaming down my face and the whites of my eyes becoming as red as Twente's car. A minor sacrifice for a good day of solar car testing.

We returned to the workshop to put the finishing touches on the car, such as the lights and the canopy, before taking the car out for another test.

On the road

Again, the day went extremely well, apart from a rather scary moment at the end of the last stint, where the handbrake mechanism came loose, meaning the brakes could no longer be applied; cue the car skittering across gravel as the driver screamed in the radio that she'd lost the brakes. Luckily, an escape road allowed Endeavour and driver to escape unharmed (if a little shaken) and the problem was quickly fixed.

We then decided to relocate to Hidden Valley Raceway, from our workshop at BOC Gas and Gear. This was the local racetrack that the organisers had booked for the event, where track testing could be conducted and this was where the dynamic scrutineering was to be done. Over twenty teams had already congregated here, and there was a buzz of engineering in the air, as all the teams raced to sort out their own problems in time for scrutineering and the race. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we appeared to be one of the more "ready" teams, given that there were still some who were still welding a chassis together, others still dealing with major electrical issues (like a battery that kept cutting out), and mechanical issues (such as major wheel vibration). 

However, we weren't without our own issues; upon taking the car out on the track with the updated wheels, it became obvious that there was not enough clearance between the wheel rim and the suspension, leading to rubbing during cornering. The problem was alleviated somewhat by an evening spent with an angle grinder, but was never eliminated entirely. Apart from that, we also encountered some weird electrical cut out issues, which was eventually traced to a dodgy isolation switch. The suspension rubbing issue effectively scuppered our hopes of a good grid position, but it would not be a big factor for the race, as the Stuart Highway is basically a straight line. This made me feel good about our prospects, as the car was basically working well, and appeared to be reliable from the 400 kms or so of testing that we had done.

I also felt really good about the atmosphere at the circuit - every team was friendly, and there was genuine interest between teams for each others cars and the different ways in which the other teams had done things, and although the World Solar Challenge is a race, the spirit present wasn't one of competition at all costs; it was one of collaboration and a shared sense of the adventure that everyone would be embarking on. Warm fuzzy feelings yeah!

Pit lane at Hidden Valley

As the car neared completion, there was even time for most of the team to take half a day off to relax and rest themselves before beginning to pack everything in the workshop, ready to go into the support vehicles. 

Finally, on the Wednesday before the race, with the car painted, the drivers practised in getting in and out in under 15 seconds (a WSC regulation) and with everything crossed off our to-do list on the car, we were ready for scrutineering the next morning, where the World Solar Challenge officials would check whether our car met the regulations or not and judge our eligibility to enter.

To be continued...

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.

Interlude, and a snack for your brain.

This post touches on life and videogames, and is a kind of mild rant, which means it sort of covers all three of my blog's subheadings. Excellent.

This post will also be a break in the Memoires series. Think of it as that quiet moment of reflection in a war movie, where all the gunfire fades out and the reflective music is turned up to 11, and the main character looks at the faces of his dead comrades and asks himself (or herself, lets not be sexist here): what is it all for?

All that time, effectively spent jacked-in to the matrix of Azeroth. What was it all for?

No doubt by now, if you've been reading this series of posts, you will hopefully have realised that MMORPGs hold in themselves complicated challenges and lend themselves to the construction of completely new social structures as well as allowing people to connect in completely new ways.

You may also have thought that the whole thing was pointless, especially if you weren't a gamer (although I have my doubts that anyone who has read this far falls into this category). Be that as it may, I hope the following discourse will still provide fresh food for thought.

To answer the question of "What is it all for?" I think it's best to start from the basics.

What are video games? How do we classify them? I think the clue is in the title - they fall under the category of "game" along with such things like Chess and Backgammon (which I have no idea how to play). This differs however from what I perceive to be general perception of the video game; that it is a form of mindless entertainment like watching the TV, where one consumes content but does not interact with it (or even in some cases, create it). Of course, it's a bit of a sliding scale as far as video games are concerned, as some games are quite mindless whereas others require ample amounts of mental dexterity and lateral thinking.

By extension then, this means that the popular perception of the gamer as a media consumer is fundamentally flawed. Video gaming is actually a hobby, like pursuing a craft such as writing or depending on the game, even a sport. If we look at video gaming from this light, then it's easy to see why people get passionate about it, notwithstanding the fact that games are inherently designed to dole out certain rewards for the work which a gamer puts in.

Right, let's go back to our initial question: What is it all for? Why do people write? Why do people play games?

If we ask this in the context of say, creative writing, a multitude of answers can arise: some people will write because for them it's a release and an escape from the stress of daily life. Others will write because they want to show their skills to the world, and they want to be appreciated for their work and others still write because for them it's how they can study the world and the people around them.

The same applies to video games. For some it is again, an escape. Others play to showcase their skills and to win (for example, there is a growing professional eSports scene surrounding games like Starcraft 2, which is also incidently a fun spectator sport). Finally, and most excitingly to me, social games allow people from all different creeds and classes to connect and be on equal footings, which broadens the horizons of all involved, and they also allow a unique and valuable view of various aspects of the human condition which are difficult to study in real life.

So, what is it all for, for me? Well, at first, playing World of Warcraft was my way to get away from the boredom that was life outside school. It turned into something different altogether; it became my way to prove myself - to try and find meaning in my teenaged existence, it became a way to satisfy my competitive urges and it also turned into a surprisingly good social experience too. Amongst that online space in a world where slaying dragons was the norm, I found somewhere where I really felt accepted and appreciated, somewhere which taught me how to lead and manage a diverse range of people, somewhere where I made long lasting friendships, and somewhere where I experienced visceral highs and crushing lows, all wrapped up in one neat little package for £8 a month.

Funnily enough, Badminton fills most of these criterion too, and that's been another activity that has been a staple of my life for as long as I can remember. However, if I spent hours a day training Badminton, it could easily be considered a noble pursuit. If I spent those same hours researching and theorising about how to maximise the healing potential of my priest, well...you get where I'm going with this.

This is the one thing that frustrates me a lot; the perceived lack of "validity" of video gaming as a pursuit. By this I mean that even though I don't have any interest in something like Major League Baseball, I recognise that it takes skill, dedication and talent to play well and to rise to the top. On the contrary, when a video gamer achieves something, the common reaction of joe public is to go: Good for you, but it's only a videogame - it doesn't matter!

It's a viewpoint that's sold readily by the media and along with all the other stereotyping that's applied, has pinned a very negative stigma on people who play games. This of course, isn't helped by the fact that "video games" is an umbrella term which covers all sorts, from simple puzzle games like Tetris to an extremely complicated game like Civilization IV - a strategy game where the objective is to build a civilization and dominate the world. To use the writing analogy, the difference between the two games is like the difference between a haiku and a full blown fantasy epic: you can of course find meaning in both, but the fantasy epic is more complex, deeper and one would expect the more satisfying read.

If you're good at Tetris, well, you're good at Tetris. If you're good at Civ IV, it shows sound strategic thinking, resource management and tactical thinking, it shows that you are good at balancing competing demands and are able to prioritise as needed - in short, it shows you are able to perform well at a lot of high level cognition tasks; the sort of thing which is valued in pretty much any job.

According to Google, one can define a "game" as a form of play or sport, esp. a competitive one played according to rules and decided by skill, strength, or luck. Using this definition, we can say that there is fundamentally no difference between Starcraft 2 and Football, and the two are only perceived differently by society and given different weights of importance and validity accordingly.

In a way, even passing exams and getting a degree is a game: the examinee is trying to maximise points scoring by providing answers which conform to an arbitrarily chosen set of criteria. You could argue that the importance of getting a degree comes about since it relates directly to your earning potential, however, given that there are now monthly Starcraft 2 tournaments that pay out $100000 in prize money and there is a growing market in the sale of virtal items and money for real world cash, it should no longer be considered strange that one can make a living from video games. But anyway, I digress.

The point I'm trying to make is: so much of what we do in life is actually just playing games. These games go under various pseudonyms such as exams, job interviews and climbing the career ladder and so are artfully disguised by the cloak of cultural norms, but they are still games nonetheless. It seems odd then, that when we play games that are labelled as games, society as a whole is all too ready to look down on it.