You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘pugs’ tag.

So layteknight’s trying her hand at DK tanking (she’ll post more on that later I’m sure). She’s freshly 80, and freshly geared for heroics (meaning mostly iLevel 187 blues and a few solid greens).

This post isn’t about that. It’s about how, as we were running some random heroics for gear and fun, I called someone a douchebag to their face for the first time ever today:

I was so mad. So unspeakably mad. It doesn’t matter that it’s technically true:

  1. How the Hell did the LFG system pair up a 5.9K gearscore paladin with a group ranging from 2-4K?
  2. Given her gear level, she probably won’t be able to tank for him, though I maintain that if he’s even a fraction as good as he seems to think he is, he could play it easy and not have TOO much trouble.

Nobody has the right to talk to another human being like they’re nothing. The condescension is uncalled for, rude, and unwelcome – on anyone. Layteknight kept saying: “It’s fine, it’s true, my gear’s shitty and he’s going to pull off me, whatever.” But it’s not about that – not for me, anyway. I’m a principles person – it’s the principle of the matter that matters to me, and the principle of the matter is he was being a rude piece of shit, and no amount of factual accuracy can justify that.

Maybe I’m oversensitive – Christ, I’d believe it. Maybe I’ve just been on the recieving end of this kind of attitude for too long. Maybe he didn’t mean it as shitty as it came out. But it sent me through the roof.

There are a million different ways he could have made those points. For instance, he could have said: “Shit. Sorry in advance if I pull off you – I’m overgeared for heroics, so it might be a bit rough.” Or even: “My gear’s really high level for this place and I’m probably going to do too much threat – did you want me to just tank it instead? :)”

But no. He has to ask a completely unnecessary rhetorical question, simply oozing with arrogance and disdain. And when layteknight confirmed it in a good natured fashion – while, I might add, telling me to calm down and not freak out and it didn’t matter – further suggest that he was just going to have to “ret tank” it because she’s obviously so shitty in comparison.

Do people not understand tone? Do they not understand how they sound when they speak? It’s so easy to put someone down or crush someone new to some aspect of the game. Layteknight’s not in danger of being crushed, but what if it was someone else? Someone newer to the game, with ZERO tanking experience, coming up against this attitude all the time? Bashing their heads off it constantly? I see it all the time and it’s to the point where I can’t stand the thought of letting it go, even though I recognize that may be wiser or easier or healthier for me in the long run.

It wasn’t necessary to summarily dismiss a person – a real person on the other end of the intertube – you’ve never met based entirely on your own opinion of how good you are.

Fucking. Douchebag.

I regret nothing.

So I continue to spaz out. We hit one of those pulls, on the left side of the instance, on the top level, where it’s a group of four and they split into two groups. Instead of waiting back with the tank like an intelligent DPS (gearscore or no), the pally rips up one side and decides to go without the lot of us because he’s just that uber. None of us are surprised. He’s been playing like a retard since he got in here.

We let him go. Layte runs over and gets the other half, the rest of the party follows her.

Mr. Douchebag6KGearscore decides that 50% health is just too low for him to tolerate, so he fucking bubbles and SaveTheFails picks up the aggro. Layteknight pulls the adds off him before he dies.

I start ranting out loud, and in whispers to Save, something along the lines of “Nice “ret-tanking” you fucking asshole” and how I wish, oh I wish, I could say it in Party Chat, when all of a sudden I see this:

And THAT is why SaveTheFails is my hero today.


Guys! You guys! Oh my God!

Okay, so long story short we had the best PUG ever last night (sure we only had to fill two DPS slots, but these guys were wicked!). I will talk more about that next week when I’m not typing up a post on my iPhone on a hurky-jerky bus (I can barely read what I’m writing except at stoplights). It’s actually a boring story outside the fact it never happens!

Anyway, as a result of this PUG, and the actual source of my excitement right now, I have learned a new way to tank hHoR (my least favourite, worst-performance instance on my warrior) – and it works! Mostly. I still hate the instance more than I hate bad PuGs, and with said bad PuG, no strategy in the world is going to get me through it. But with a good, or even moderate group it makes it so much easier.

I’m probably going to sound like a big tool for this, as I imagine you’ve all known about it for ages, but we didn’t (even our pugs had never done it, only heard about it). It comes down to this:

Fuck the alcoves. Fuck them hard.

Come in far enough that you’re not going to get locked out when the door shuts, then stay there. Backline hugs the door, melée wait with them until the mobs come, tank stands up front, at the edge of the room beyond.

All the Mage said was: “I’ve heard some warriors say they prefer to tank them here.”

And I went: “Oooooooooohhhh!” in an excited way, because benefits were obvious immediately. To me anyway. To the point where I couldn’t understand why we’d never tried it before.

  1. The tank can actually see the whole room and pinpoint mobs as they spawn. You’ve even got time, if you’re quick, to mark a priest or two.
  2. Everyone in the party can see. I’m not staring at a solid wall of ghost crotch, unable to see what the rifleman and Mage are doing and to whom, my nameplates are visible, and I can actually see if there’s bad on the floor. The ranged are able to actually select mobs to fire on.
  3. There’s space between party members and mobs. If there is bad on the floor, there’s room to move. CC (ha ha!) is less likely to be broken. I have room to move and charge and shockwave.
  4. You can still use the walls to LoS the mages if you need to (just hug them).

Seriously. It was the most manageable, least stressful time I’ve ever had in there. I still lost the odd mob, but was able to react instantly and get it back – something I can’t do in the alcoves. It made it almost okay. We were with an excellent group and I actually had fun.


In hHoR.

You don’t understand how impossible that statement is.

If you’ve tried this strat before, please let me know how it went for you. If you haven’t, give it a shot and THEN let me know. I’m so curious.

So, the drama around trying to actually play Warcraft in French continues. Now I’ve paid to upgrade my account to a full version, both expansions too, and I’m trying to download and install the French client and bugger if I haven’t fouled the whole thing up to a spectacular degree. I have e-mailed Blizzard in the EU to attempt to get some kind of professional help for the issue, as I think Google may have led me astray and made it worse. C’est la vie!

So for some reason, while I was futilely waiting for a response from Blizzard on a Sunday, my brain went: “Know what would make you feel better? A PuG.”

As you can see, I have clearly lost my mind.

Not so much than I went on any of my tanks – no, no. I’m not quite there yet – but I loaded up my Shaman and off we went. Turned out to be AK:OK. The obligatory two healers join the group and leave again, and we’re finally on our way.

As PuGs go, in terms of behaviour, except for our massively over-geared hunter, it was fine. The hunter was on the wrong targets almost constantly (when she’s not AoEing indiscriminately) and bitching about the tank not being able to hold aggro (she’s doing 4K DPS in a heroic. If she’s not on the right target, NO tank will be able to hold her aggro), but our tank is skilled, if silent, and our healer is lovely, and the warlock is just sort of doing his thing and minding his own business. So, not too bad.

Then, instead of darting straight for Volaj, the tank veers off to go after Jedoga – which makes me happy as a clam. I want badges, and I think skipping bosses kind of defeats the purpose of doing instancing at all. If we don’t go get the plant guy, fine, but come on! She’s right there and you pretty much have to kill the trash blocking the way to get to Volaj anyway. And they nerfed her!

The hunter, though, oh she doesn’t like that.

Those last two lines, btw, were typed simultaneously.

Also, strangely enough, here’s my Recount (from just after Volaj):

How is it her numbers show her HIGHER than mine, and everyone else LOWER than mine?

Also, as a point in fact, I haven’t been on the shaman in a while and I’m still learning the class, so I was watching my DPS like a hawk. I’m pretty sure I never once dropped under 1.6K until Volaj (fucking insanity), and was averaging about 1.7K. I don’t remember ever seeing 1.2K.

All of this is besides the point. As I acknowledge in the party chat, I had the lowest DPS by far, which is accurate. I had the lowest gear score, being appropriately geared for the content, with a healthy number of blues mixed in with my epics. I also, probably, had the least amount of experience as a DPS.

But, and excuse me for my bias in using my numbers instead of hers, 1.5-1.7K DPS is completely adequate for heroic content. And with a warlock doing 2K and huntard doing 4K…I’m not really seeing an issue.

So, while I’m not actually offended or hurt at the fact that my DPS was where it was supposed to be, I’m shocked and offended that someone would be willing to put that so rudely or so bluntly.

And I’m flabbergasted (though I know I shouldn’t be after so many PuGs) that someone would actually try to claim that DPS that is sufficient for the content at hand “sucks.”

No, actually, it doesn’t.

I wish I could type the following sentence to conclude this post on:

“This story does have a happy ending, though. The hunter stood in that lightning puddle on Jedoga and totally died before the end – pretty sure my 1.5K beats her nothing while she was lying on the floor.”

But I can’t. Because while it is entirely true that she stood in the lightning puddle and very nearly bought it, as I mentioned earlier, our healer was lovely, to say nothing of skilled. He kept her sorry, rude ass up and going no matter what she was standing in, or which of the wrong targets she was on.

So instead, I shall simply offer a salute to my anonymous healer and hope to see him again some day!

The hunter, I shall ignore, and let that be the end of that.

Figures I would go AFK for a few days right after we get linked off the delectable Righteous Orbs and get these shiny little spikes on our hit counter! To those who’ve found us from that link, welcome and I hope you enjoy what you find! To those who found us before that, you’ll always be our favourites no matter what (just don’t tell the others). To Tam, for linking us in the first place, thank you SO MUCH! I don’t know what to say except you have our undying love and gratitude (well, mine, anyway, but I’m sure the others would be willing to throw theirs into the pot as well)! ^^ Also, congratulations on your new hat!

And now, on with the show!

It was the best of PuGs, it was the worst of PuGs. Except it wasn’t – it was two PuGs, and so far varied in my experiences therein that reflecting on it actually boggles my mind.

One of them, you may already know, as I’ve posted on it previously. It was, to use the colloquial term, terribad. Pure swearing, yelling, caps-abusing, vowel-lacking, chain pulling, tank-ditching, gearscore bitching, recount linking, mana draining awesomeness. At level 20. It was also the second of the PuGs, and my shock at seeing such unfortunately familiar behaviour at such a low-level may have been largely attributed to the vast gulf between this (fail)PuG and the one (not fail) that preceded it.

The first one was slightly lower level – instead of being the lowest at 19, I was the lowest at 15, and we were running RFC. I believe my first thought was, oh my God I don’t think I’ve ever actually run this instance legitimately. I spent more time on the Alliance than the Horde in my formative years, so it wasn’t really in my instance rotation, and by the time I got around to rolling up a hordie all my large, manly, gnome-punting friends were much higher level. Also, the idea of trying to tank an instance with nothing but Heroic Strike to my name lacked that certain kind of appeal, otherwise known as fun. My toolbar stood naked and exposed compared to my high-level toolbar of I-Don’t-Even-Press-Half-These-Buttons.

But I digress.

I wasn’t a tank this time, either. I’d rolled my very own huntard, thinking to myself I shall redeem this class or die trying. It is not possible that there is no way to play this class like an intelligent human being. It must be useful. It has so many goodies, and I can see so much potential here. There is no way it is made of as much fail as the people who play it seem determined to convince me it is.

It was my first time using the LFG system for anything under level 70, but I was seduced by the thought of maybe getting my very own awesome cape of awesome. Do you have any idea how rare long capes are at that level? Do you?

The wait was longer than I’m used to (so, so spoiled by 10 second queues), but I worked on my potioning for a bit (all of my alts are alchemists because it’s the only profession besides Tailoring I have failed to level into even Outland – and the tailoring has a good excuse: my clothies (outside my JCing priest) die hard and often) and the time passed quickly and next thing I knew I was standing at the start of RFC, suddenly understanding why layteknight used to tell me never to run that instance during the day and fumbling with the cord on the blinds.

Once I was able to more or less see the instance, I immediately set about inspecting my party, trying desperately to determine who was tanking because all I know about DPSing is to follow the tank’s target and do my utmost to not be one of those people I hate.

Side question: does anyone know how to get Pitbull to tell me who the tank and healer are? Because it’s kind of embarrassing to ask.

We have a druid, a pally and a warrior in the party, and barely enough talent points between the lot of us to really claim we’re specced one way or another. Plus, I can’t remember whether druids can even be bears at this level. So I suck it up and ask, explaining that my mod doesn’t show me the icons in order to head off the usual barrage of “just look at the portraits”. In response, the druid goes bear form and heads off.

Good enough for me.

So pet goes on passive, growl gets turned off (and I am therefore already a better party member than every hunter I’ve ever played with except maybe three), and we start the instance. Tank pulls very cautiously – which I like – but feels strangely timid. These aren’t confident pulls. I don’t know how I can tell that through the medium, but it’s definitely the impression I’m left with. An explanation is provided moments later – he’s new to tanking and has never tried it before.

The pally says: “o. just pull more. pull all of them. ill keep u aliv”. We’ve just hit the area with all the troggs. I have bad memories of dying here. Bad, bad memories. And that’s from someone who’s never run it legit.

“Pull whatever you’re comfortable pulling,” I chime in immediately, terrified of letting an idiot push a newbie tank past his comfort zone and/or teach him bad habits so soon. “Also, I’m pretty sure the shammy’s healing, so I’d be more worried about whether she can keep you alive.”

At the same time as I hit enter, the bear says: “Oh. Well, okay” and goes in face first.

Terror, unrelenting.

He pulls a very large group, but – and my heart sings with joy at his common sense – he does not, in fact, pull them all. It’s a large group, but it’s manageable, and the shaman does, in fact, keep him alive (with no help from the pally, who’s quite busy blithely pulling aggro off our newbie tank with every button he can find).

Once everything is dead, the bear is jubilant, momentarily drunk on the invincibility of his class and spec. “Wow!” he says. “I didn’t think I could live through that many! You’re a good healer!”


It was a nice and almost painful reminder of how fun it can be to tank if you haven’t let too many bad PuGs turn you into a twisted, cynical, jaded heap of plate that looks at everyone in your party like they’ve already wiped the group and are going to blame you for it. I won’t deny that for a brief moment I was powerfully jealous. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being new, but that’s probably more a case of greener grass and selective memories than anything else.

So we continue on like this, the tank pulling as many as he’s comfortable with, the healer keeping him up, the warrior DPSing competently, me doing my usual I-am-at-best-a-mediocre-DPS thing, the pally being an idiot, and the rest of us ignoring him.

And people are chatty. Honest to God chatty. Commenting on the fights, the instance, the LFG, the gear, the game. They’re nice, polite, they can actually type (with one, glaring exception – two guesses who). It’s awesome!

We drop the first big guy who is some kind of felguard demon thing but apparently counts as a humanoid (WTF? I have a brief, far away flashback to being angry exorcism wouldn’t work on him, but have no recollection of actually taking a pally through RFC…have I really had that many alts?). Apparently he counts as the last boss (despite being the first) and we all get our lootbags. The pally ditches the party even as the shaman writes: “there’s still the bulk of the instance to go.”

He is not missed.

We continue on our merry way, down one person. The instance is simple enough that we can 4-man it easily, so we do so, chatting and talking the entire way. We help the tank out where we can, but he honestly seems to have the swing of it, and is playing with a good deal more common sense than a lot of experienced, veteran tanks seem to have these days. The shaman healer is awesome, and keeps us all up even when the warrior’s on the wrong target, or I do my Protflashes-is-not-meant-to-play-DPS thing and push the wrong buttons at the wrong times and spend the next ten minutes apologizing profusely no matter how minute the consequences.

And, as always seems to happen when I’m in a group with nice people and newbies, the biggest, most epicest of fails is me.

I am embarrassed about this to the point of being reluctant to admit to it in public.

In one single, stunning example of primal stupidity, I earned the title of Huntard for myself, and all the shame associated with it.

We were on an overhang, staring down at the last boss and the large pull before him. We had taken some obscure shortcut I didn’t know about and skipped the vast bulk of the trash behind us. The plan was to jump down onto the trash group before the boss, take it out, then pull the boss.

I can do this. I know how to jump. This is a very simple strategy.

I wait for the tank to land and open fire, then follow after.

I press Ctrl-1 and wait for the irritating shriek that means my hawk is running in.

I don’t hear it.

The realization washes over me like ice water, and all I can think is: Oh my God, oh my God, I didn’t. Tell me I didn’t.

I did. I totally did. I jumped without dismissing my pet.

Maybe it’ll despawn, I think to myself, just a little desperately, as I try to remember which of my buttons dismisses the pet. Where is it? WHERE IS IT?! Sometimes it does that. It can’t possibly run all the way back down that ramp, and then all the way through the crisscrossing paths and pats and trash groups and casters and oh my God I just got us wiped. Bearing down on us, full tilt, is a lag-inducing pile o’ trash, with my little hawk at their head, leading them right to us.

I can see her beady little eyes as she squawks a battle cry. This, she seems to say, is for all those times you left me to fight hordes of monsters on my own so you could pick silverleaf – not even mageroyal, but silverleaf!

There’s not even a warning as they slam into us like lightning against a cliff face. We’re dead before the group even fully understands what happened. And all I can say is: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! That was so me! OMG I’m so sorry! I am epic fail! I can’t believe I did that! I’m sorry!”

Here it comes, I think to myself. Protflashes has been kicked from the party. And rightly so. I can’t believe I did something so stupid. I just got us killed for no reason. I am an idiot. I am terribad. I am Fail made manifest and given flesh, to roam the world and wipe the innocent.

“LoL,” says the tank, “don’t sweat it! We’re supposed to wipe at this level. It’s part of the game. :)”

All I can do is blink at my screen.

“Yeah,” says the warrior, giving me a /pat as we run back into the instance. “Oh no, you cost me a whole 2 silver for my repairs. However will I survive?”

“LoL ^^” says the shaman.

And I am shocked into silence. I mechanically type “Thank you and I’m still sorry and it won’t happen again” and wonder in a vague way if they’re being sarcastic. They’re not, though.

I am shamed, deeply shamed by their reactions. I like to think of myself as a positive, forgiving person, but I know that were the positions reversed…the apology would have stopped me from initiating a vote-kick, but I still would have said something half positive, half-warning. “Don’t sweat it, but maybe dismiss the bird next time, hmm?” with a fake happy face or something equivalent. And if someone else had initiated the kick…would I have voted yes?

I don’t know. There’s a lot of extenuating circumstances (attitude, history, experience, etc.).

Either way, I doubt I’d have been as happy and positive as these people were, had someone caused a wipe through something as absent-minded as not dismissing a pet before jumping down.

We finish the instance with an unbroken sense of camaraderie and fun, everyone enjoying the game, enjoying their class, and absolutely none of the animosity or awkwardness that so often follows a wipe. The warrior /hugs me before he teleports out. The shammy /pats my hawk. If it was possible to add cross-server folks to my friends list, I would have.

Gulf is the only word I can think of to describe the difference between that first PuG, and the second (which was more the type of thing I’m used to). A vast, uncrossable canyon – 1KN or something – and I can’t help but think, given how much I’ve PuGged and how poor the experiences, that it was only through some random, magical happenstance I found myself on the other side of it that one time.

It is a glorious, sunny place, full of nice people and a game that remains as fun as the day I opened the box. I remember it distantly, the same way I remember that the big dude is a humanoid no matter how demonic he looks, even though I don’t remember taking a pally through.

I see it every now and then in glimpses, like someone running through the trees. A shaman who drops DPS the instant the healer goes down and starts spamming Chain Heal. A warlock who banishes an unexpected pat without being asked, even though it costs him his whole rotation. A DPS DK who uses his death grip to pull a mob off a healer, instead of just for pulling the next mob.

A newbie tank only just starting to realize how much he’s going to love this role.

A friendly group of strangers, moving at a decent but livable pace, chatting like old friends.

A group that does their best to make an idiot hunter feel better about getting them all killed, instead of yelling or scowling or vote-kicking.

God I wish I could go back there, or cross over, or figure out how to keep myself on that sunny side, instead of always slipping back across.

I would jump the gap if I could.

I might even dismiss my pet this time.

So I had the most surreal experience last night.

Since layteknight is in warlock mode lately and talking about nothing but, I caught the DoT, so to speak, and felt the urge to pick up my own demonic caster. She’s level 19 and looks very cute in heirlooms and is spoiled beyond all belief because if she wasn’t I would fail abysmally. Me and ‘locks…not a winning combo unless I’m tanking for them.

Anyway, I haven’t played her in ages, so I think to myself, meh, why not? I pick her out of my character list and load her up. I spend the obligatory fifteen minutes cleaning up her bags, bank and mail, revisit her spec to see if it makes sense to me (nope, but then, it never did), and look in my quest log to see where I want to go. My reaction to its contents is roughly equivalent to “ew,” so instead I pop into the LFG.

Normally I am loathe to do the LFG if I’m unfamiliar with the class I’m playing. Sucking publically and/or inconveniencing 4-24 other people are not attractive thigns to me. But I figure I should be safe in this one case because I’m level 19. Nobody at that level knows what they’re doing. And it’s just a lowbie run; these things are keyed to be easy. Should be nice and low pressure. A much needed break from the high pressure, self-absorbed, too fast, unfriendly, half-finished PuGs in heroics. Right?


Wrong. First thing I see when I load up in the instance (SFK)? I’m alone at the entrance. The group’s already past the first boss.

Oh. Okay. Whatever, that’s fine.

Then the first words out of the tank’s mouth are: “7 minuts til we kik u lil dickhead.”

“Ya,” chimes in the rogue, “fuckin rtard. u better put thos shuldrs on.”

“Wow,” I comment in the party chat, “what a friendly group I’ve joined.” I throw in a happy face, ’cause, you know, deescalate the situation maybe? You’re level 20. You’re not going to make it to 80 if you’re getting that mad already. Trust me.

“Fckng rtrd tnks hs mele,” the rogue informs me, apparently so angry he’s lost the use of his vowels. “AND HES GT 7 DPS. IM DOIN 35 WTHUT AMBUHS!!!!!!!”

And, despite the fact that this is obviously srs bzness, I giggle. Because…OMG, for real? 35 DPS? And this is a big issue for you? Don’t get me wrong, that’s decent DPS for that level assuming absolutely no extenuating circumstances, and yeah, 7 is probably low…I don’t know. Raiding has sort of removed the meaning from any numbers under 2000 for me. I’m just used to people screaming something similar, only with a couple zeros after it, that’s all. It’s funny to see it all naked, let alone to see someone so upset over it.

Anyway, the rogue continues screaming in caps at the hunter – who, apparently, ninjaed “his” shoulders. The hunter’s shoulders are naked, so the Rugged Spaulders (+8 AGI, leather) look like a valid need roll to me, but I wasn’t there, so I don’t comment. But I am vaguely frowny about the yelling and the swearing. Level 19 Hunter fighting in melee, talking in the say instead of the party chat, won awesome shoulders of the nothing-else-at-this-level, but doesn’t equip them? Poor kid’s probably brand spanking new to the game, and what a wonderful introduction he’s had so far. But before I can say anything non-vitriolic to him, they’ve kicked him. I vote with them, since, as I said, I wasn’t there and don’t know the details, and new or not, party chat or say, the kid is swearing his own blue streak right back. I am obviously surrounded by Quality Gentlemen at this point.

“You wouldn’t believe who you’re replacing,” says the tank, with a shake of his furry, ursine head (or so I imagine). “A pally with a GREEN sword and a SHAMAN offhand DOING 12 DPS.”

Um…I’m sorry, but we’re all level 20 or under, here. Did you seriously just complain about someone’s gearscore?! The only reason I’m not in greys is because, once again, I’m a stinking rich, spoiled rotten alt decked out in heirlooms. She was wearing vendor-whites as soon as I could get to a mailbox to pick up my free money. Most under-20s aren’t so privileged.

Then the tank says “hury up guys go,” and proceeds to chain pull the entire instance.

Between looting and skinning, I participate in maybe one of three trash pulls. Stuff is dying faster than I can put DoTs on it anyway so I don’t care much. Every time the healer and I stop for mana, the tank says “hurry up” and the rogue says “gogogo” and the move on without us. The pally pulls aggro like a bitch and constantly links the damage metres (literally about every other pull) to show she’s on top. The damage metres. At level 20. Why is Recount even on?

The tank leaves for work after Fenrus. We rejoin the queue and pull in a warrior to tank for us. Immediately after she joins the group, for reasons beyond my comprehension, the rest of us mulch through everything between us and Arugal without waiting for her to navigate the marathon that is that instance. As I’m nervously staring at Arugal, knowing that he is seven kinds of nasty at this level, and typing “maybe we should wait for the tank”, the pally runs in and aggros him. The warrior makes it to us halfway through the fight, but not in time to prevent a wipe.

It is a long fucking run back through the instance.

In the end, I won Odo’s Ley Staff, the Feline Mantle, and the Belt of Arugal. I dinged 20. And yet, despite the material rewards, I felt frazzled, bewildered, and kind of lost. I hearthed back to Dal in a daze and only just remembered to open my loot bag before logging (a blue bloak “of the bear”, which was the crowning achievement of the run).

All I could think as I closed the game headed to bed was, I don’t have to wait for Cataclysm to run heroic SFK.

I think I just did.