Finders Keepers

Yesterday, I decided to do the Kalu'ak puppy-gathering quest, the one where you have to kill the mother and gather her pups (and if you gather before killing her, she enrages). I went up and killed one of the mothers and noticed I couldn't grab her pups.

I'd forgotten the quest.

Hoping I could get the quest and get back to grab them before anyone took advantage, I raced down and back up in a frenzy of worry to find a hunter had just taken the whole camp. I cried on his shoulder, he cheered at me (which felt like he was rubbing it in), and I had to go far to the north to find enough puppies for my own quest.

In this game, we feel a certain right to that which we've fought for, but the bitter pill I had to swallow was that if you don't keep your place in line, you lose it. I had to leave my spoils because of my own mistake. It wasn't the hunter's fault; he'd found the puppies all alone and unprotected by me or momma, and he rejoiced in his good fortune.

It's the same in guilds. We often relinquish the things we think we've earned when we walk away for a minute.

The right to raid is most obvious. You don't come prepared or on time, you relinquish prime spots in other raids because no raid leader is going to give the best slots to someone who forgets all their reagents and has to leave to repair halfway through.

A subtler but greater evil is the loss of friendship or respect. If you step out of line behaviorally, you run the risk of losing favor with others, which may only show up as things like not being invited to groups or conversations. For a family guild, ostracization is the greatest evil that can befall any member.

While not every ostracization is due to our own machinations, it is often enough our fault that we should always say "What did I do that could have caused this, and how can I fix it?" Whether it's an attitude, a fight with someone, or an accident, we are in charge of our own behavior and our own place in line. And like my experience with the puppies, if we walk away for even a moment we accept the possibility that the line will close behind us and we'll have to start from scratch.

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Beth Blevins is a former officer in In Vino Veritas.

She's a writer and wants a kitten-collecting quest.

Beth's been married since her junior year of college.