Well, here it is. Christmas. The day where lots of us celebrate the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ. Or where we come together with our families for togetherness, football, and excessive alcohol consumption. Or even where you don’t believe in either of the above, but appreciate a couple of days off from work. It’s supposed to be a time of fellowship and good cheer, right? Fa la la la and all that.
Unfortunately, Dear Readers, I bring you a tale that proves that assholishness is a 24/7/365.25 kind of thing. It comes, not surprisingly, from the WoW random dungeon finder. And it involves not me, your humble Panzercow, but my wife, your slightly less humble (with good reason) Aggro Kitty.
A bit of background on my wife. She’s been playing WoW almost as long as I have, a bit over five years. In that time, her main has always been Rashona the Tauren druid. And Rashona has always been feral. She was feral before feral was cool. She was feral when being feral meant “lol, shut up and heal me.” She has catted and beared her way through vanilla and three expansions now. She knows her feralness. (Ferality? Feralosity?) She raids with The Anvil 25-man, as feral kitteh DPS, and I daresay, she’s pretty damn good at it. In a class with one of the two nastiest rotations for DPS in Wrath of the Lich King, she was a consistent performer in our raid. She may not be a theorycrafter and number-cruncher at an Elitist Jerks level, but she’s a solid, competent, skilled feral cat durid, and is very, very storng 4 fite. (She also has seven level 80s to my six, because she actually likes leveling. Yeah, I don’t get it either.)
So like me, she’s been running normals here lately to get her gear up to the magic number of 329…which is the average item level, as calculated by the client, that lets you use the LFD tool to queue for heroics. Yesterday, she hit it. So last night, while I was flying around Twilight Highlands strip-mining it of its valuable natural resources, she entered the interminable DPS queue for her first heroic. And 30 minutes later, she got it. She landed in an in-progress heroic Blackrock Caverns with four others, all from the Mug’thol (US) server. Their names were Butternuts (hunter), Soad (mage), Cartol (paladin tank), and…wait for it…Dudeihealu (holy paladin).
Now my wife, being the polite Georgia girl that she is, said hello, and then asked something like “btw, this is my first heroic…is there anything special you need me to do?” This was the result:
Well. Sort of defeats the purpose of the random dungeon finder being, uh, random, doesn’t it? “Yeah, listen, we don’t know anything about you other than you can type in complete sentences with punctuation, which scares the hell out of us. But you look too scrubby in our considered opinion, so could you please eat a deserter debuff after waiting 30 minutes in the queue to get in, so we could get some deeps that lives up to our arbitrary standards of l33t, plox? Thanks ever so much.” (Please note that she has done BRC on normal at least four times on two different characters, so she knows the basic layout and mechanics of the place.)
Now my wife is no wilting flower. She’s a steel magnolia. So she stood her ground. That resulted in:
“Man up get over here and prove your feathers.” Fair enough. A little difficult when you’re feral, but, hey, “w/e i don’t c around it.”
At this point, I imagine she was torn between standing her ground to “prove her feathers,” and running screaming away from the stupid. (Even though I was sitting just a few feet to her right, I heard nothing about this. I was too busy drooling over elementium nodes.)
So they pulled Corla, Herald of Twilight, aka Netherspite with Boobs. And for whatever reason, they wiped on her. And that caused this one final example of Christmas good cheer:
At this point, even my wife had had enough and left our four heroes from Mug’thol to pick up the pieces. Then she told me about what happened. And as you can probably guess by the fact that I’m writing this on Christmas Eve, I was furious. My Southern chivalry kicked in, I guess, even though Rashona is perfectly capable of defending herself. Stuff like this sits at the conjunction of three things that make me rage: insults against my family or friends, unwarranted gear elitism, and general assholier-than-thou behavior.
So listen here, you Mug’tholian Four Horsemen of the Dumbassaclypse. The LFD tool is random, you jackholes. You don’t get to pick and choose “340+ ilevel, PST armory link and notarized letter.” You take what you get and you work with it…a fact those of us with actual functioning brain cells are far too aware of when we end up stuck with droolers like you. You couldn’t find one other magically l33t DPS on your server to avoid having to PUG a fifth? Clearly you guys had already run off at least one DPS since Rashona fell into a BRC where you’d already killed the first boss. Nope. Y’all get a DPS out of the queue who is technically capable of entering the instance, with ilevel 329, and decide that’s not good enough. I guess you guys didn’t think you were good enough to cover for her, huh? Wanting to get carried, maybe?
Oh, and Cartol. The tank. The one who kept repeating “leave rashona” over and over again like some sort of yoga mantra for the socially deficient. You get special attention, son. If I were churlish, I could mention that you didn’t even qualify for your own group’s internal ilevel 340+ restriction because you’re just at ilevel 334. Or I could mention that you don’t have a single gem or enchant anywhere on your gear as I write this, even on stuff that the activity feed says you’ve had for days. Or I could mention that you’re showing six empty glyph slots. Karma is a bitch, homeboy, and so is the Armory. I would actually understand your pretensions to l33th00d if you’d actually take the time to fix your own shit up before jumping on somebody just six item level points under you, with more glyphs, more enchants, and more gems.
Fortunately, there is a happy ending to this tale of stupidity. After taking a few minutes to calm down, Rashona got into a group of friends running heroic Lost City of Tol’vir (thank you, Destril, for making room for her–you did not need to do that and it was very sweet of you to do so ❤ ) and had quite a good time. As for what happened to the other four…who cares?
Then the Ghosts of Dickheads Future disappear in a rattle of chains and a wail of “6.6k gs wtf,” snow starts to fall, a gnome limps into the frame and shouts “God bless us, every one!”, and we all go have a happy Christmas holiday.
Rant completed. I have to start wrapping presents, go to Christmas Eve service tonight, and get ready to make a 125-mile drive tomorrow morning for Christmas with the in-laws’ family. So from here in the Dumpster of Love, deep in the maybe-snowy urban wilds of North Carolina…from the Panzercow family, Linedan, Rashona, and Nublet, may you all have a merry and blessed Christmas. May your drops always be purple and your groups be durp-free. Love ya, guys.