Every Wednesday, a self-absorbed writer posts an article of virtually no interest to anyone but themselves, under the vague catchall of “Storytime!”
Once upon a time, there was a girl whose friend got her to play World of Warcraft. When faced with the character selection screen, she chose a warrior because that seemed pretty simple: hit stuff with a sword. She leveled to 18 or so by… hitting stuff with a sword. It was slow going, but pretty intuitive.
Then at 18 her friend said “Let’s do a dungeon!” She wasn’t really sure what a dungeon was, but her friend invited three other people into the group and said “Go to Westfall.”
Once inside the dungeon, someone said “Who’s tanking?”
The girl’s friend cheerfully replied. “The warrior can. I’ll heal.”
The girl whispered her friend. “What’s tanking?”
The friend replied. “Just run in and hit stuff first.”
That seemed simple enough. The girl ran in and started hitting stuff with her sword like she had been doing all along. Then the other people started attacking, and then they started dying. First the mage died, then the girl’s friend. Then the rogue and the hunter died. Lastly, the girl died, wondering what had happened.
On the corpse run back, the people in the party informed the girl that she was a “horrible tank”. The rogue informed the party that he would be tanking the remainder of the dungeon.
After Deadmines was over, the girl’s friend whispered her, “Maybe you should make a warlock instead.”
The girl followed his advice, and made a warlock who would do incomprehensibly bad DPS for the rest of the Burning Crusade, but she generally was ignored by her party unless she feared something. Her friend quit the game not long afterward leaving her alone to muddle through Azeroth until sometime early in Wrath of the Lich King when she rolled a discipline priest, discovered Elitist Jerks, and learned to play well enough to think she could tell other people how to play better.
This website is for her. It’s just two years too late.