So ... Warzone healing. As my previous post
foreshadowed, there are baaaaaad things going on here. Let me talk about the
worst part of it in a conceptual way and then I'll follow up with something
Yeah. "Heartwarming". I'll bet you don't believe that's possible in this thread. I can't blame you.
Warzones come in two categories: Ranked and Unranked. I only play Unranked.
Within each of those, there are many different WZes, but two subcategories: 8-man and 4-man.
I hate 4-man. I loathe it in a way that I struggle to put into words. My disklike for the 4-man WZ exceeds my dislike for a Master FP with three Leroys.
The thing about any WZ is: once people know you're healing, you're everyone's target. You're on the receiving end of a gang-bang. It ain't pretty.
But the 4-man WZ takes this horrid concept to a whole new level -- by putting a label next to your name with an icon that identifies your role, i.e., tank, damage or healer.
<blink> What sick sonofabitch at Bioware actually thought this was a Good Idea?!
Definitely not someone who plays a healer.
At least in 8-man, the enemy must demonstrate a minimal level of intelligence by figuring out who is the healer via battlefield observation. In 4-man, Bioware removes even this low bar to situational awareness by handing the name of the healer to the drooling, knuckle-dragging DPS apes on a silver damn platter.
I cannot tell you how many times I've said to myself, "If a 4-man pops, I'll just leave immediately, before the match starts. I will only do 8-man. It's my personal protest against Bioware's stupidity."
There are two reasons I've never been able to bring myself to do that.
First, even though I firmly believe that departing before the match -- as opposed to during -- is not a dishonorable act, it still feels wrong somehow. I can't explain it. But there it is.
Second, I believe you should accept, with simplicity, everything that happens to you, however unpleasant it may seem in the moment, because you cannot know what it may ultimately be good for. Often you will never know ... and yet, it is still a Good Thing.
So whenever a 4-man WZ pops, I groan and slap my forehead ... and then hunker down and deal with it, even if it ends up being something that I simply wait for to be over.
I promised "heartwarming." Hang on.
So last week, this 4-man pops, which puts me in a not-good mood. My team: two healers, one damage, one tank. Enemy team: one healer, two damage, one tank. Both teams are Reps -- that's unusual, but it happens sometimes. So now, those who recently fought together are compelled to fight each other. It's surreal. But we do it, because in a WZ, if you're good, you give it your all and you don't hold back -- no matter who you face.
The ensuing battle is thus savage and devoid of mercy. For three rounds, we fight to a tie, each team unable to down even one of the enemy team members. The three rounds go into "overtime", which basically becomes a coin toss as WZ-wide damage from the "gods" ticks on each player until only one person on one team remains -- and that team wins the round. The enemy team wins two of these three "coin tosses".
And, as we all lay there dead, someone says, "Tough fight."
Another says, "Cheers, guys, was intense."
And yet another: "That was a battle!"
And more. All are positive. Nobody whines.
So if you ask me why I do something that I hate -- that's why.
99 times out of 100, I'll sigh and bang my head against the keys.
But on that 100th time, I'll bask in a wave of positive energy that makes me forget about the previous 99.