● Name: Ben Rock
● Age: 28 (10/03/1982)
● Gender: Male
● Location: Sacramento, CA
● Armory Link:
http://us.battle.net/wow/en/character/kiljaeden/Jaston/advanced● Your /played: 182 days, 8 hours, 108 days this level.
● How long have you been playing World of Warcraft? I originally started playing as a Night Elf rogue the third week after launch.
● What other classes/roles are you familiar with and at what level have you played them?: I have not spent any truly significant time playing anything but rogues, although I have done extensive study of the mechanics of various classes and have taught other players to play for some time.
● Are you active in guild outside of raiding? Not so much anymore. I recently moved into a new place with my girlfriend and her 4-year old daughter, so my playtime is a bit curtailed at the moment. If I'm needed, I will be around for certain, but my days of truly liesurely play are probably over.
● What is your spec? What could be different/situational? Currently I'm set as an assassination rogue, but I have plenty of experience with combat and assassination alike.
● Explain your rotation/priority list: stealth>garotte>snd>mutilate>rupture>1-2x mutilate>envenom then mutilate for 4+ envenoms and reapply/overwrite rupture as needed. Between cooldowns I have feint, vanish to reapply overkill, vendetta/cold blood, currently have a 1-minute trinket CD and I use TotT as often as I can.
● Past raiding experience: Early vanilla raiding, Burning Crusade into SSC/TK, skipped wrath, 12/12 and 9 or 10/13 in Cata, with 7/7 normal in 4.2
● Average latency and FPS in raids: Latency is generally minimal. I have a 20 mbps connection bursting up to 30 mbps. FPS varies with fight mechanics. If it drops on a certain fight, I'll tweak my settings to get it up to no less than 30 average.
● Previous guilds: Sacrament
● Reason for leaving previous guilds: Haven't yet, but my life and schedule have changed a lot over the previous month and they aren't currently raiding anyway, so I am looking for a good group to run through heroic Firelands and whatever comes next.
● Give us a link to a screenshot of your UI:
https://2img.net/h/i11.photobucket.com/albums/a177/Maverik68/WoWScrnShot_061911_012033.jpghttps://2img.net/h/i11.photobucket.com/albums/a177/Maverik68/WoWScrnShot_061911_012225.jpg● Do you have everything you need bound bounded? Or do you click all of your abilities? Bound, most of them utilizing macros.
● Give us a link to a WoL or a Screenshot to a raid performance: Nothing I have is really current as I haven't run in at least 4 weeks, but ask Chileno if you want someone to back me up. He might know where some of his logs are.
● What have you spent your valor points on? Have you been keeping up with your daily heroics? Up until the switch to weekly heroic valor caps from daily, I missed only 3 days of valor points in Cata. I came into 4.2 with over 5k worth of gold from excess valor points after selling boots at every opportunity for the last 2 or 3 weeks and valor capped or nearly capped the first 4 weeks of 4.2 I have all of the gear I need from valor at this point, so that hasn't been much of a priority since.
● How are your reputations for Cataclysm? This includes Therazane and whatever your head enchant is: I have capped all reps except for the Firelands rep, which is Revered.
● How do you feel about progression and the wiping that come with it? What kinds of things run through your head? Wipes happen. Wipes on serious progression happen a lot. It's all part of the game. As far as what goes through my head when we wipe, I try to look at what I'm doing and what I could be doing better. After the raid, I spend a lot of time poring over logs and seeing what I did wrong, as well as what others did and where the raids problems lie as a whole. There isn't a lot of time to do that when we're in the midst of progression, though.
● Why should we give you a trial? Because I'm very good at what I do and I'm damned sexy. Hell, the latter should be reason enough!
● As a person how do you take constructive criticism? What if it's harsh from the GM or Officer? I tend to take constructive criticism pretty well, as long as it is informed. Telling me, "do something different," doesn't really help a whole lot. If something is going wrong and you're frustrated with me, I am probably doubly so. If you can help point me in the right direction, it works a lot better. Conversely, if I'm doing something that works, even if it makes you nervous, try not to yell at me about it. I'm very reactive and tend to be very, very good at reacting quickly and appropriately to a situation. If you can trust me to do what I have to and do it well, we'll get along great. Harsh criticism, if warranted, is fine, although I don't think it is generally warranted. If it is warranted too often, I should probably be replaced.
● Blasting Off Again is pretty vulgar at times. Is this going to be a problem? This includes foul language, odd discussions, some playful racism, etc: Don't give a fuck. My girlfriend could probably make you all blush with her dirty mouth, and I don't just mean swearing, so I've probably heard as bad elsewhere.
● Raid compositions in Cataclysm favor certain variables over others. In the case of it being your class/job that needs to sit, would you be willing to do so? I think this is, generally, less true of 25-mans in cata, but it does come up sometimes and I am generally willing to sit, if I am the best candidate to be sat. This is rarely a problem as a rogue, but there you have it.
● Do you have vent and a mic, and able to use your mic when required? Yes x3
● Our raid times are 10:00PM-1AM Mon/Tues/Wed/Thurs. What would you say your attendance would be?(This should be a percentage): Assuming my girlfriend is as okay with me raiding as she claims to be, I should be able to make 100%.
● Tell BoA more about yourself. While you're here, you're going to become "part of the family" so start off with letting us know what you enjoy/tell us a joke or story/etc: If you don't mind my reposting from a previous app elsewhere, I will just paste in a short story I wrote.
To preface, it's all true, as far as the general events are concerned. I was a bartender for a few years before moving across the country and getting back into school. This story is about one particular night in the life of a bartender:
No shit, there I am with this 250-pound guy bearing down on me, crushing my ribcage under his shoulder. I am not a big guy, you must understand, standing all of about 5'7" and weighing in at 135 pounds, give or take. I used to be 175 pounds of lean muscle, but I digress... He heaves himself up, his girth pinning my body from my abdomen down, exposing his throat. I wrest my hand free and am about to go for his windpipe, murder in my eyes, when he looks me dead in the face and a look of shocked horror crosses his. "Oh shit! You're the bartender! Sorry man!" he says, startled as he rolls off of me. He lumbers to his feet as I quickly recover my own. Wait... let's go back a bit.
...it all started like any night at my bar. I stocked my shelves, tapped my kegs and filled my beer cooler with various domestic and imported beverages. I got the bands loaded in, shot the shit for a while and settled in to sling some drinks and earn my keep. Catherine (Oh sweet Catherine, what wouldn't I do for you?) comes back, as she always does, to bring me my drawer and check that I'm ready for the night. "Here ya' go, Sugar," (What wouldn't I do...?) she says, that lovely smile crossing her lips as she looks me in the eyes. "It's going to be a loud one, tonight. Five bands, punk scene, you know how it goes..." she trails off as she gets a serious look. "Jonboy's hittin' the whiskey hard tonight. Two guys up front are wantin' to kick his ass already. You keep an eye out, Sugar; call for Jeff if you need, hear?"
I nod, smiling coyly. "Thank you Catherine-baby. I'll keep an eye on him." Jonboy is a longtime friend of mine. He used to be one of my room mates before he lost his high-paying serving job and couldn't find any work for a few months. He still plays in one of the local punk bands (he's the drummer), but he had to move back in with his mother to recover some funds while he looked for a new place. Jonboy is also crazy. Once he gets some whiskey in him, he'll take on three or four big guys by himself, and he, like me, is not a big guy. He weighs about what I do, but is a good 4 inches taller. Anyway...
The night rolls on like clockwork, bands going on, playing their sets and exiting the stage again for the next act to get set up. People come in, people go out; they buy their drinks, watch the "talent" and shuffle off to the front when they want a quieter place to socialize. Jon is in rare form tonight as he swaggers up to my bar. "Hey buu-u-u-udy," he slurs, reeking of Jim Beam. "How's the old house?"
"Still standing, man, in spite of all we've put it through. You guys are going on last, right?" I ask him.
"Yeah... I'm just back here watching the guys 'fore us," he says, swaying as he does. "I hear they're pretty good, but we'll see." I nod to him and he smiles drunkenly as he shuffles off toward the crowd.
Two fellows come in through my door and I recognize them from earlier as having been pretty friendly, but they are not looking very friendly right now. One of them nods and walks toward the crowd as the other approaches me, agitated but obviously trying to keep his cool. We talk a minute about nothing, as is generally the case when you're on the other side of a bar, and I can just see Jonboy and this guy's compatriot over his shoulder, having what appears to be a rather animated argument. Jon, drunk as ever, has that mischievous smile and devil-may-care look in his eye, while the other guy has his back to me and is gesticulating aggressively.
Without any further warning, he grabs Jon by the shoulders and pulls him in tight, face to face, before pushing him back. Jon manages to stumble only a step back and catch his, admittedly tenuous, balance, but the guy lunges forward. Before he knows what has happened, Jon has him by his own shoulders and sweeps him around himself, his momentum carrying him into, and partway over, the edge of a table with a loud crash. His buddy, who has been talking with me at the bar, turns and runs hard at Jon, clocking him in the back of the head and nearly doubling him over.
Much to the shock and awe of my patrons, I plant one hand on my bar, which comes up to just below my chest and is at least three feet wide. I jump, clearing it with one deft leap and stride up to the previously affable patron, the one who is now leaned over Jon's back and pummeling him in the back and side, reach an arm around him at his throat, bow him up backwards, turn quickly and fling him across the room, sending the stools against the wall crashing to the sides, some of them toppling noisily. Taking a quick, deep breath, I regain my composure and walk over to check that he is all right. Big mistake.
Nathan, I think he was a Nathan, shakes his head blearily, pushes his body up and lunges forward into my knees with all his weight, bringing me down hard on my ass and elbows. With another orca-like flop, he drives his shoulder down hard into... oh, there we are, back at the beginning.
"Hey, you okay?" asks Nathan -- maybe it was Matt? Who can remember these things anyway?
"Yeah, just fine," I respond, eyeing him a bit coldly, two of my ribs fractured and bruised. "I'm not saying you two can't ever come back, but you're done here for the night."
Jeff bursts through my door, shouting in his thick New York accent, "Oy! What the Hell's goin' on in he-a?" Apparently people in New York have lost the use of the letter 'r'.
"It's nothing, Jeff, just a scuffle. It's all over now," I say as I look over toward the middle of the floor,"but you may want to check on that guy over there. The fellows thought it would be a good idea to mix it up with Jonboy."
"Oh, so youse thinks you a couple a' tough guys, eh?" Jeff was born in Minnesota, but spent much of his early adult life in New York roadie-ing for the Ramones. Supposedly, he had spoken to Dee Dee shortly before he ODed. "Well, how about youse tough guys follow me up front?" I clapped Matt (Mark?) reassuringly on the shoulder as he dejectedly walked toward the front and out of my bar.
The night went on as usual. Bands played, finished and packed up. People drank their drinks, closed their tabs and headed for the exit. Having cleaned up the back, no small task in a room that size where that many people have trod, I made my way up to the front, cashed out, then proceeded to sit down with the rest of the crew and have a few drinks. Slowly they all headed out, off to their beds or other joints for continued drinking, leaving Catherine and myself alone, as so often happened.
"You okay, Sugar?" She asked, turning to me as the last of the staff left.
"Who? Me? You know me baby, I'm always all right," I said with a chortle, my ribs telling me otherwise.
"All right then, sweety. Just have to make sure my back bartender is okay."
"Well, you know how it is: just another night in the bar," I said quietly as we soaked up the peace.
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Subject: Jaston, Blood Elf Rogue 
September 14th 2011, 2:42 am
