Saturday, March 24, 2018

Chris Metzen - A Paragon of the Gaming Industry




                Chris Metzen can easily be described as a paragon, a model of excellence. From his humble beginnings as an artist and animator for a small company which was, at the time, called Chaos Studios, Metzen assumed he’d been hired by a graphic design studio rather than a video game developer. Despite the misunderstanding, he carried on anyway, and this position sparked his meteoric rise to become one of the golden standards of what video game developers should aspire to be: a true paragon worthy of the title.
In his own words, his responsibility was “coming up with the worlds our games take place in” (About Creativity). He undersells, however, the gravity and impact that his work has on his own games at Blizzard Entertainment, the company that Chaos Studios would become, and the impact his work has had on the gaming industry as a whole. But humility and simplicity have always been Metzen’s trademarks; he has always believed that the true success of his work and his company has been a result of the community they serve. This is the reason he deserves such high accolade for the contributions he has made to the art.
                Metzen applied to Chaos Studios in 1993 with the aforementioned desire to be a graphic designer, as this was a time when video game development was still struggling to find a foothold in the world of marketable media outside of specialized locations such as arcades. His earliest work for the company was working on a game called Justice League Task Force, for which he provided artwork and character animation. Amusingly, this game has been called one of the worst games in the company’s history due to animation errors, poor controls and overall shoddy design. He began a new project for the studio in 1994 and began working on Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, which would become the predecessor to the Warcraft series. His work consisted of artwork, illustrations and material for the game’s packaged documentation. In 1995, however, Metzen was assigned to Warcraft II: Tides of Darkness, for which he took a greater production role by designing various scenarios and missions in addition to artwork. This paved the way for his first fictional universe creation in 1996, when he co-created the setting of Diablo with Bill Roper. This would become his breakout title, the game that introduced the world to the wonderful creations that Chris Metzen was capable of producing.
                One of the most inspiring things about Chris Metzen is his philosophy when it comes to approaching the creative process. Metzen likens artists to “sponges,” and talks of his tendency to take in all sorts of information and sensory details, digesting it, processing it, enjoying it and returning it to the world with his own spin (About Creativity). He speaks of a love for Star Wars and Dragonlance books. He believes the key to a compelling story is “paring an idea down to its most naked truth” (About Creativity).
This philosophy makes him stand out among his peers. It can be far too easy to write a story one thinks the audience will enjoy, or to try to break a mold and be original solely for the sake of originality. Or to make something topical or satirical, taking the easy path to relatability. Metzen believes that there is a deeper well from which to draw, taking more significant, primal or visceral themes that resonate with us as a species, and using those to craft his universes and stories.
He has taken this philosophy forward, challenging younger and newer creators to do the same. He inspires everyone he speaks to but carries an air of humility about him that one would not expect considering his rock-star status in the industry. His eyes well with tears when he speaks to fans as they regale him with tales of his work having helped them through life’s challenges. He chokes up during presentations on stage when he speaks about the impact his experience in the industry has had on himself and others. He wears the same emotion upon his sleeve that he channels to create his art; a feature that gives his philosophy and claims thereof all the more credibility.
                In September of 2016, Chris Metzen retired from Blizzard Entertainment. In his wake, the company erected a marvelous statue of him, described as “…heavily inspired by the iconic Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse statue. In this statue, Metzen wears an Alliance hoodie, holds Winston’s hand, and is surrounded by medallions representing all of the Blizzard franchises.” (Wowhead) At the young age of 42, he parted ways with a company he’d been a part of since he was 19 years old. Upon retiring, Metzen claimed in an emotional farewell letter on the Battle.net forums, the online web forum hosted and maintained by Blizzard Entertainment, that he would be focusing on “the one thing that matters most to me in all the world—my family.”
After everything he’d created, the celebrity he’d obtained, the legacy he’d established, he walked away from all of it to spend more time with his family. Many of us have plans of what we’d like to do when we strike oil. Many of us have dreams of grandeur, the foolproof plan, or a way to the top that no one else had ever considered. Metzen reached that summit, but decided that once that goal had been achieved, his family came first. There’s no greater inspiration than a man who has the wisdom and fortitude to know when enough is enough and devote his time to things that truly matter to him. In his wake lies a bounty of rich, immersive and expansive stories, but his future is his own to stride. There can be no greater example of what success in this industry looks like.
                The fault in this profile is that “paragon” is too insufficient of a word. There are many words that could comparably be used: exemplar, standard, or definition. They all fall short, as none fully grasp the gravity by which Chris Metzen has defined success in the gaming industry. This is a man who has taken the pain, the joy, the best and the worst that life has to offer, and channeled those things into memorable, immersive and unforgettable stories that are enjoyed and beloved by millions of people across the globe. This is a man who started his career path thinking he was applying for a graphic design job, unaware that he was not only embarking on a career in video game development, but he would influence and change the way the development process operates. This is a man, when faced with the pinnacle of his success, chose to accept what he’d earned and focus on his family as opposed to chasing more limelight. “Paragon” is too weak a word to describe the magnificent example that Chris Metzen has shown to be. But it’s the best word we have, so it will have to do. While his departure is felt heavily, if there’s one thing Chris Metzen’s stories have taught us, it’s that there is always hope for a better future ahead. While one chapter has ended, there is no doubt that this paragon of modern gaming has more to offer in the future.



Works Cited:


 “An Interview with Blizzard's Chris Metzen, Part 1.” About Creativity, 27 Feb. 2015,        http://about-creativity.com/an_interview_with_chris_metzen_part_1/. Accessed 12 Mar. 2018.



“Chris Metzen.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 5 Mar. 2018, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris Metzen. Accessed 12 Mar. 2018.


“Chris Metzen Statue Revealed at Blizzard HQ” Wowhead, 12 Mar. 2017, http://www.wowhead.com/news=261138/chris-metzen-statue-revealed-at-blizzard-hq. Accessed 17 Mar. 2018.


D'Anastasio, Cecilia. “Chris Metzen On Leaving Blizzard: 'I Started Having Panic Attacks'.” Kotaku, Kotaku.com, 17 Nov. 2016, http://kotaku.com/chris-metzen-on-leaving-blizzard-i-started-having-pani-1789047653. Accessed 12 Mar. 2018.


Thursday, February 22, 2018

Personal Heroes

I haven't touched this blog in years, but my recent acceptance into the Art Institute of Atlanta to pursue a BFA in Game Art and Design has motivated me to spin it back up. For my English 101 class, we were tasked with choosing a personal hero in the industry we've chosen to enter and writing a short, one-page essay. I couldn't think of anyone that stood out more. Below is the essay I'll be submitting:



                There are hundreds of influential people in the gaming industry, be they designers, writers, animators, programmers or executives. The gaming industry spans more than just video games, as well; many modern video games are influenced by analog rules, stories and formats that existed long before the modern medium of electronic gaming. Despite there being so many wonderful, brilliant and influential paragons of the gaming industry, one stands out to me: Chris Metzen.
                Chris Metzen was the Senior Vice President of Story and Franchise Development for Blizzard Entertainment. He joined the company in 1993; a time between when they were known as Silicon and Synapse and Chaos Studios. Metzen remained with the company until his retirement in 2016. During the years he worked at Blizzard, Metzen helped write and develop blockbuster franchises, such as Warcraft, Starcraft, Diablo and Overwatch. His expertly spun tales and exceptionally fluid and immersive universes have an unparalleled ability to draw the player in. But this is not why he stands out to me.
                Chris Metzen does more than just write. His job is not one to sit upon an ivory tower and dictate the direction of the craft. He interacts with the community. He records voice lines for his own characters. He speaks with the clarity and passion of someone that has no deeper love than that of the art he creates. And he screams “For the Horde” with a fervor that can spark a fire in the most docile of hearts. The passion he instills into every word he speaks, every sketch he draws, every bit of lore he writes is an inspiration to me. And most importantly, he is humble. I have seen the tears in his eyes when he hears of how his creations have touched and helped people, how his words and stories have enabled countless people to grow, learn and heal. I am certainly no exception myself.
                Chris Metzen is a paragon of the gaming industry. A man who, in his youth, found a platform for his passion. He found a way to share his stories with the world, and those stories changed the world. He gave parts of himself away, and saw as those parts became love, community, respect and phenomena. Never once did he take it for granted. Never once did he allow the lure of celebrity and success to separate him from the community he loved; a community who loved him in return. For nearly twenty-three years he never failed to be an exemplar for what a truly wonderful, passionate and loving person can contribute to the industry of gaming and the world as a whole.
                Chris Metzen is an example I seek to emulate. He is one of my personal heroes, and I dream that one day I can achieve even a fraction of the success he has; if only as a way to be so fortunate as to meet him!





In my dream world, maybe he'll actually see this. I hope this (far too) short essay portrays just how much his work has impacted me. From my time in the military, my deployments, my injuries, my PTSD and my relationships, his stories have helped me get through all of it. I've made wonderful friends through Warcraft, I've had amazing experiences, and I've felt emotions that I'd thought had been too damaged by war and hardship to feel again. He's helped me heal, and I desperately hope that one day I'm able to give to the community even a sliver of the wonder and magic that Chris Metzen has given me.

Monday, April 28, 2014

It's All About Class

It's been a long time since I sat down and focused my thoughts enough to contribute to this blog.  In the wake of the chaos and uncertainty that's been my life lately, I thought it would do some good to reflect on a few things and jot down an entry that once again explores how I use gaming to understand and face life and its many, many challenges.

One question I hear in interviews and podcasts all the time, is "Why do you play a [class]?"

It's an interesting question, some people are just drawn to a particular class because of how it plays, what it looks like, or the raw capability it has meshing with their expectations of what they should be able to contribute to the game.  I don't know many who have openly stated some deep, introspective and psychological reason for their selected class/role.  I'm not saying they don't, I'm just saying I don't hear it often.  So, whether it makes me some kind of weird minority or not, I thought I'd explore the reason I play what I do.  Buckle up.

Long ago, when I was in my early adolescent years, I first encountered the style of gaming that required the selection of a class or role to play.  Be it side-scrolling beat 'em ups, role-playing games, tabletop games, or simply choosing Princess Toadstool in Super Mario Bros. 2 because she could float and stuff, (you all know you did it) those decisions were a reflection of the kind of person I was.  Back then, I always went with the same archetype, the archer/ranged type, hitting things from a distance, contributing from afar.

Archer was the safe option.  I could do what I had to in order to contribute without putting myself up in the fray; much like I did in school and around my friends.  I was pretty socially awkward back then, and my decision to work from the sidelines echoed how I behaved in pretty much every situation I was in, gaming or otherwise.  It was safe back there.  No direct confrontation, less danger of being hurt, no real connection to what happened up front, but I was okay with that.

Until I wasn't.

I grew up.  I realized that relationships from a distance, while safe, left me feeling unfulfilled.  It became boring to sit in the back peppering things with arrows and spells, and the more I did it, the more detached I felt from the group.  Yes, I'm blurring the lines between playing and introspect now, but there was a noticeably tangible shift in my playing habits somewhere around my late teens, when I left for the Army and was forced to make new friends, survive in new environments, and forge new relationships.  My first deployment was paramount in that fact, bringing out instincts and natures I didn't know I had.  Valor, selflessness, a strong drive to protect the people next to me, these were things I started to venerate and exalt, not shy away from and fear.

So I made a tank.

From the first dungeon I ran on my little paladin tank, I knew I'd found a calling.  Something about taking all of that aggro, shielding my friends, charging headlong into a fight so I'd bear the brunt of the attack and they'd have the opportunity to act freely exhilarated me.  I came to realize I didn't just play that archetype, I had become it.

The day I almost died in Iraq stands as a huge turning point in my outlook on life.  I decided then that standing on the sidelines wasn't enough, I could fade away at any second, and I questioned the value my life had and what kind of legacy I'd leave behind.  Did I want to be remembered as the archer in the back who helped from a distance, or the warrior in front who led the charge and did everything he could to protect the ones he cared about.  The answer was pretty clear to me.  I read a FaceBook post from a very close friend recently about how grateful she was to have had me in her life.  At one point in private discussion she even stated that had I not been who I was, she might have given up.  To be told that my friendship is a reason someone is still alive today is a harrowing experience.  In our discussions I realized sometimes all it takes to save a life is to simply be a part of it, and that epiphany was more powerful than any quote or inspirational story I'd ever seen.  Looking back I can think of specific instances in which people helped me by being who they were, and times I did the same.

I'm not a plate armor-clad holy warrior.  I'm not an expert with a sword and shield, and I'm not physically capable or skilled enough to charge into battle at the forefront of my group.  But I DO treasure those virtues.  I DO believe that compassion, honor, selflessness and valor are integral to my core and crucial to maintain to stay the kind of man I am, the kind of man I want to be.  Upholding those virtues is what defines me both as a person, and as the avatar I've chosen to represent me in an online game.  

The legacy I'm proud of is that of the friends I've helped by being caring and supportive, and when necessary, firm.  The legacy I'm proud of is one that will remember me as someone that was there for people, loyal and compassionate.  This has given me purpose, validation and meaning.  And to have an arena like gaming where I can channel that, take those virtues and attributes that I hold so dear, and share them with people all over the world in the form of playing a role in the game, allows me to experience it in a comfortable, enjoyable environment.

Quite the evolution from the kid in the back that was hesitant to expose himself when contributing.  I've felt much more fulfilled playing a defensive role in gaming, much as I've discovered the same sensation in real life and actual relationships.  So that's why I gravitate towards tanking classes and roles.

That, and stupid bows never drop.

Friday, November 22, 2013

PTSD, Relationships, and How Warcraft Helps Me Heal

     It's funny.  When I get the urge to write something, I'm usually in a place or position where I can't really do so.  Inspiration hits at the funniest places, and it's almost never in tandem with motivation.  The idea for this post struck me today while at work, and fortunately it was significant enough for me to scribble the concept down and write it when I got home.  So here we are.

     I've been seeing a therapist for my PTSD for nearly 10 years.  When I was wounded in Baghdad, Iraq on December 10th, 2003, a lot of things changed.  Since that day, I can't sit in a stationary car with the windows down comfortably for fear of something being thrown in.  I still jump when there is a loud, unexpected noise or crash around me, and if I smell burning exhaust, my heart rate leaps.  Many other things, however, have been improved with a combination of medication, therapy, and various coping mechanisms.

     Something I still have trouble with, however, is emotional investment.  I'm at the point now where I can say I lost friends without breaking down.  I've processed the guilt and grief, but subconsciously I go into any relationship with an exit strategy.  Something I place there to allow me to disavow any emotion should the relationship go sour or should something tragic occur.  Thankfully, I have certain relationships that seem immune to that effect: my wonderful wife, whom I love unconditionally, my closest friend, and most everyone I was and still am close to prior to the incident.  That said, building new, meaningful relationships is hard for me.  It takes effort, it takes time, and it takes trust; none of which I expend or give lightly.

     This is where World of Warcraft comes in.  A few months ago I made a post about how I was unsubscribing.  I did, in fact, for a few weeks.  My reasons for unsubscribing felt petty, annoyed that I had to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone I knew going on and on about Hearthstone while I just watched in envy.  Upon closer introspection, I realized the problem was stemming from the same source.  I had spent so many years wary of relationships, that I'd just accepted myself as an observer; involved when it was safe, detached when it was not.  I was doing it again, pushing myself out of a community I felt I started to no longer be a part of, as some exclusive element had been introduced that I was not included in.  Rational?  Not at all.

(I have since received a Hearthstone key, I'm not so proud that I'd avoid saying that I now understand what everyone was going crazy about.  It IS pretty awesome.)

     I then realized that Hearthstone didn't matter.  I wasn't being beat over the head with praise of a game I couldn't play, I was perceiving myself as having been excluded from a community I had felt I'd grown a part of, and I panicked.  I ran from it.  But, in doing so, I made a far graver error.

     You see, World of Warcraft has become FAR more than a game to me.  While the truly awe-inspiring environments and story, the ability to associate myself with a heroic avatar performing epic and daring deeds, and the relaxing and calming activities and diversions abound within the game have been extremely beneficial, there's more to it than that.  It's become more than a past-time, more than a distraction from stresses or simply a means of escapism.  It's become a vessel.  It's become a way for me to make friends, build relationships, allow myself to get close to people again without the crippling fear of failure or loss.  The relationships I have built have been meaningful.  The friends I've made have become important to me.  Warcraft is something that allows me to maintain those relationships, keep them strong.  With the advent of things like Real ID and cross-server grouping, I've been able to hold on to friends like I never had before.

     Being in the military, I move around a lot.  Friends that I make, I will eventually leave.  This did not help in terms of my reluctance to allow attachment, but Warcraft has gone to great lengths to alleviate this.  I'm not afraid to make friends in the community now, because I can stay in touch and continue playing with them with increasing ease.  I'm not afraid of losing them, because of the tools and options Blizzard has implemented.  This has even extended to my life outside of WoW; Twitter, Facebook, Skype, I'm finding that by allowing this technology to do what it was intended, I can maintain friendships far better than ever.  Warcraft was simply a catalyst.

    So now, 9 years after first receiving the game and making my account, I'm still playing.  I'm still speaking to friends I made as I leveled my Priest to 60.  I'm still speaking to friends I made in the line waiting for The Burning Crusade.  I'm still speaking to the guildie that helped me learn how to DPS when I switched my main to Mage in Wrath of the Lich King.  I still have a great relationship with the wonderful sister-in-law I've only met once, but regularly played with on my Paladin in Cataclysm, and I'm still making the most spectacular friends in my current guild in Mists of Pandaria.  The beauty of it, is that many of these friends don't even play Warcraft anymore, at least not with the same schedule or regularity.  I've taken what I started in WoW, and built on it.  Made it stronger, and learned how to open up and care about people again.

     With Warlords of Draenor on the horizon, and the improvements they're projecting in terms of social atmosphere and playability with friends, I'm excited.  I'm excited to continue enjoying this game.  I'm excited to explore the next chapter of this breathtaking world and story with the relationships I've made and cultivated.  I'm excited to make new friends, build new relationships, experience new things.

     I shudder to think of the man I'd be if Warcraft hadn't been there.  My wife deserves a boatload of credit, but Warcraft was a factor in the building of that relationship as well.  PTSD is a long, uphill battle.  It doesn't just heal, it doesn't just go away, at least not for me.  But thanks to what I've learned from therapy, what I've been able to execute and experience in World of Warcraft, and how that's helped carry over into my day to day life, I can say with confidence that I'm happy I'm the man I am.

     So thanks, Blizzard.  Thanks, Warcraft.  Thanks to the Knights of Ni on Fenris.  Thanks to every friend on my Real ID, to the podcasters and tweeters that listen to me, talk to me, accept me.  Thanks to my peerless wife and her never-ending support and love.

     Thanks for cracking that shell.




     The only downside is now I take 200% extra damage.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Heroes

Webster's Dictionary defines the word 'hero' as: "a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal."

Many disputes have been waged over the definition of a modern hero.  Many have denied that the common service member is worthy of this title, while many have praised these very same individuals as the standard by which the title is set.

With today being Memorial Day, I thought I'd take a personal look at this debate and weigh in on how I feel about it.

I do not see myself as a hero.  I did nothing specifically valorous or heroic on either of my deployments.  Situations in which I was tested, required to act, and engage in any sort of battle or pursuit, did not strike me as extraordinary or exemplary.  I did my job, I did it as well as I could, and I came home.  I was not directly responsible for any great acts of heroism, no lives were saved because of my direct actions, and I was not, fortunately, responsible for directly ending the lives of any adversaries.  Why, then, do so many people consider me, and the many like me who have enlisted, a hero?

I have made the claims that I do not feel heroic.  I have said plainly that I am not a man of valor.  I have a great desire to hold that status, a great love for those who have held it before me, and a great reverence for the stalwart, unwavering devotion to duty and country that these men and women who I feel have earned the title embody.  I have said this clearly, and have been told I am wrong.  I have been told that simply by enlisting, I've earned the title.  But how?  Signing a piece of paper?  That was heroic?  Making a commitment, was that valorous?  I didn't see it.

Not until I looked more deeply at that definition; at the final few words.  "...is regarded as a model or idea."  I was blown away when I actually allowed myself to see and understand these words.

Regarded as a model or ideal.

I immediately understood that heroism isn't wading into a firefight.  Heroism isn't always pulling people out of a burning building.  Heroism isn't always single-handedly taking down Alan Rickman and his skyscraper full of hostage-taking, thieving terrorists barefoot.  Heroism is being an embodiment of an ideal.  Heroism is standing for something, having the courage to stand for something, that others may shy or balk from.

Every service member, Army, Air Force, Marines, Navy, Coast Guard, etc., has made that decision.  Every policeman, every firefighter, every medical professional, everyone that has decided to dedicate their life to the betterment of society, for the protection of their way of life, and to the service of their fellow man, THIS is the embodiment of an ideal.  This ideal is selfless service.  This ideal is courage.  This ideal is loyalty and duty.

So how do I finally accept the title of hero, how may I finally believe that in some small part, a decision I made has allowed me to obtain a status I have revered since childhood.  Am I a special forces operator risking my life to keep terrorism at bay, across the world, away from my loved ones?  No.  They are the heroes that have earned that title for their courageous and valorous deeds.  Am I a firefighter who bravely kicks in the door to a burning building, races into the flames, unaware of how structurally sound the building is, or whether it could collapse at any moment, simply to rescue the terrified children inside?  No.  Those are heroes who have earned the title for bravery and selflessness in deeds.

But I stood for an ideal.  I stood up, I signed a line.  I made a commitment.  I have lived that commitment for almost 11 years.  I will continue to live that commitment as long as I am able.  I stand as a model for those ideals.  I do what many people will not.

Maybe I might just be a hero.

On a day where we honor those before us, it's easy to focus so much on the past, and the groundwork they've laid for us, that we forget those that continue that tradition.  What would their sacrifice be worth if we didn't honor it with service?  With continuing the dedication and honor they gave their lives to preserve?

Do not forget the fallen.  Do not fail to understand the sacrifice they've made, but also do not go forward without honoring it.  Thank a soldier.  Thank an airman.  Thank a sailor and a marine.  Thank them for being models of an ideal.  Thank them for carrying the banner their fallen predecessors have passed on.  Honor the memory of those who have passed by honoring the service of those who continue to.

And then, we can all rightly feel like heroes.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Combat Tours and War(Craft) - Part 2: Ch-ch-ch-changes

First let me apologize for the generic and totally uncreative title, but I couldn't think of anything more appropriate to sum up the feel of what I'm trying to do with this post. 

You see, recently I went through a pretty significant change in World of Warcraft.  My old guild, Royal Apothecary Society, run by my wife and I, had become pretty much defunct.  When the holidays rolled around, a lot of folks went on hiatus.  We stopped raiding, lots of people stopped logging on, and things slowed down considerably.  Then, I spent some time in the hospital, an incident which you reading this may or may not know about (it's been resolved, I won't revisit it).  Long story short, when everyone started to come back from the holidays, fewer and fewer people were online at any given time, and those that were rarely did anything as a group.  Holly and I were left to make the hard decision: we packed up and left.

A good number of our close friends and allies came with us, but we decided we'd had enough with the Horde guild on the Winterhoof server.  Instead deciding to join a few friends before us who had migrated to Azgalor, on the Alliance side, we resolved to bite the bullet and pay for the faction/server changes. Since the migration, I've noticed a few things.  First, we're enjoying the game again.  The people on the new server are mainly new friends, with a few old familiar faces peppered in there.  It seems that most of them, however, share the same philosophy and sense of humor regarding the game and life as my wife and I do, and it's been a very welcoming environment.  There were bumps here and there, with a few of my friends who made the trip with us, but aside from the initial culture shock, I'm happy to say it finally feels like a fit. 

Another thing I've noticed, is how much fun PvP servers can actually be.  I had always dreaded leveling on a PvP server, hearing the horror stories of the maxed out characters who patrol the lower level areas, looking for fresh, easy targets, sitting on their corpses, and making it impossible to progress at all.  While I've only run into that instance once, I find it exhillarating.  You never know when a high level player may swoop down on you, or when there's a rogue lurking around, waiting for the right time to strike while you're minding your own business.  It adds tension and frustration, sure, but it makes the game more exciting.  Plus, when you get tired of getting killed over and over, you just hop over to your higher level character(s) and give those players a run for their money.  It adds a dynamic to the gameplay I never knew was there.

All in all, I'm glad I made the change.  Along with the fresh new content that Cataclysm has added, coupled with a new, well-suited group of friends to enjoy the game with, and a familiar entorage of old companions to share these new experiences with, the game has become like new again.  It's fun, it's engaging, and it makes me feel better about dropping almost two hundred dollars of my tax refund to move all four of my level 85 characters. 

Stupid alt addiction.

-TehKnuck out.