Logging Out

If someone told me a decade ago that I would find my queer awakening in World of Warcraft, I would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it. If someone told me I would one day be a guild master, I would’ve definitely scoffed at how ridiculous that sounded.

Being a guild master is less like captaining a grand ship across open seas and more like captaining a rowboat made of soggy cardboard. Half the time, the crew argued about loot. The other half simply jumped overboard. Despite it all, I loved it still – at least for a while.

In late 2022, I joined a queer guild. At the time, I was closeted, crumbling, and very unsure about where I belonged. One can say I was lost at sea (haha get it?). I was slowly losing a quiet, private war with my mind. Yet somehow this guild and its oddball band of gaymers and gremlins gave me something I hadn’t had in a long time: a place to be and discover myself. It is through the guild where I got to explore my queerness. Here, I got to build friendships.

Then I became guild master.

I believed that I could build something that could outlast me. For a while, it worked. We ran raids. We survived ‘guild killer’ events. We juggled spreadsheets. We groaned in exasperation when signups didn’t work out. We dealt with loot drama. In turn, I learned to lead in voice and in silence. I made mistakes and still, I made things happen. Good things. Events and connections were magical (and not because I mained a mage).

Another one of our guild events when the guild, during my time as GM, was at its peak social life.

Seasons change though - the tavern I once stumbled into, found my lil’ comfortable corner, and called home soon became unfamiliar. It didn’t happen overnight, but it rather steadily crept in.

I first noticed it when we faced down the barrel of a new expansion. I saw that the community shifted. Or perhaps it had already shifted before I noticed. The people I started this journey with began to drift. Those connections began to fray. Many people moved onto another game. Unfortunately, some of those relationships were lost to tension and fatigue. Mind you, I was not without fault; there are many things that I would have done differently. But the pressure was on and exhaustion had taken its toll. In those moments, it was hard to see clearly and even harder to act perfectly.

The truth is, I think my departure was quietly welcomed. It wasn’t because I was disliked – at least not by most - but because the guild already moved beyond me. It had grown into something I didn’t quite understand. I had grown into someone it no longer needed. Perhaps my approach became alienating. Perhaps I had become alienating. It’s hard to say. What was certain were two things: I was burnt out and they were ready to move on.

I remain slightly bitter to this day. Mind you, it isn’t a spiteful bitterness but rather a tender ache. The way you’d feel when something mattered a lot and then changed without you. I said my goodbyes in a way that didn’t honour the connections I had made. When I stepped down, I was hurt by what felt like fraying connections and silence where closeness once lived. I didn’t reach out gently nor offer soft farewells. I left on the terms of my disappointment that was shaped by the belief that the people I had grown fond of no longer needed or wanted me around.

Of course, the silence that followed hurt. It was a silence I helped create.

The goodbyes I didn’t get from the people I thought would reach out left a mark. In another version of things, I would’ve done things differently. I would have left with more grace and openness. But again, exhaustion speaks loudly. At the time, I was too worn down to part ways kindly.

Fortunately, bitterness doesn’t erase beauty.

Finishing our first Val’anyr, Hammer of Ancient Kings despite pugging every week and battling absences during Ulduar!

For nearly two years, I served as guild master. Two years is a span of time that holds weight. It was a time of joyful chaos. It was a time where people felt safe enough to be themselves. Even if most of it faded or evolved into something else, it happened. Because it happened, it matters.

Nothing like a cosy and gay sleepover after a guild Black Temple run, right?

To my former guildmates, I wish you the very best. I hope the guild continues to grow and thrive in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I hope that I added something positive to your lives during the time we shared.

I’ve long since logged out. The title is gone. I’ve set it all of it down. But I’ll carry the lessons, the failures, and the connections I made.