Raiding

How to Become a Top 10 Two-Night Guild

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I received a question during a recent trial interview.

“Hypothetically, if you wanted to grow the team and convert it into a top 10 two-night guild, what are some of the steps you would take? What does that road map look like?”

It’s a great question, and it caught me a little off guard. But here’s my honest answer:
If I really wanted to push this team into a top-10 two-night team, it would require commitment across the board. Not just from the players, but from me as the raid leader as well.

Here’s what that roadmap might actually look like.

Define the Goal with Precision

We’re not just saying “get better” or “rank higher.”
A top 10 two-night guild is already achieving Cutting Edge. They’re likely killing the final boss around top 150–200 worldwide. On a limited schedule, that’s a tall order.

This means defining success like:

  • CE within the first 6–8 weeks of a tier
  • No more than 1 sub-2% wipe per boss
  • Kill bosses within 50–70 pulls, not 120+
  • Finish ahead of reset-based nerfs

It’s an intense pace which brings me to the next point.

Raise the Floor, Not Just the Ceiling

You can’t build an elite team on the backs of just your best players. You do it by raising the minimum performance bar across the board. That means:

  • Execution mistakes are rare, not routine
  • Players are expected to own mechanics independently
  • Logs are reviewed weekly for accountability
  • Players can’t afford to fall behind on progression systems, M+ gearing, or knowledge

Every player has to be operating at or near the same wavelength. That’s hard to achieve if only a few are pulling the team forward.

Optimize the Roster

You need a roster of players who:

  • Are consistent, hungry, and coachable
  • Don’t need their hands held on every mechanic (just the really critical ones)
  • Can take constructive feedback and self-review
  • Bring value beyond damage (interrupts, CDs, utility)

That means being ruthless with cuts. Players who aren’t improving or matching the pace can’t stay, no matter how nice they are or how long they’ve been on the team.

More Support at the Top

Right now, leadership is basically just me and one other person.
If I want to scale us up, I need more lieutenants — experienced players who can:

  • Take ownership of healing or tank assignments
  • Do log reviews post-raid
  • Help with group compositions (left/right group splits, interrupts, cooldowns, and raid planning)

But it’s not just about adding people — it’s about clearly defining their roles. I can’t just say “I need help,” I need to say what I need help with and what authority they’ll have.

Build Systems, Not Just Raid Plans

At the top end, strategy alone doesn’t win bosses — systems do:

  • A repeatable planning template for each encounter
  • Pre-assigned cooldowns, debuffs, interrupts
  • Well-structured review and feedback loops
  • Roster depth to rotate people in without missing a beat

Most teams plan the fight.

The best teams plan the tier.

Time Management and Off-Night Investment

With only 6 hours of raid a week, everything around those hours matters more:

  • M+ for gear catch-up and trinkets
  • PTR testing or log analysis before a new fight
  • Video review of what’s coming up (for their own class)
  • Personal research or even custom WA tracking

This doesn’t mean mandatory off-nights — but if 5–6 people are doing nothing outside of raid, we fall behind.

Final Thoughts

I’m not chasing top 10 two-night status right now — but if I were, these are the first things I’d do. Death Jesters is already one of the top two night teams in the world (and we mean actual two night, none of this overtime at the start of the tier crap).

A roster of skilled players will only take you so far. You need discipline, structure, and a team culture that prioritizes growth, learning, and personal responsibility. It’s a climb, not a leap. That means making tough calls and sacrifices along the way.

But the roadmap exists. It’s just a matter of deciding whether the destination is worth the cost.

A Tale of Tanking Turmoil

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There’s something different about losing a tank, especially during progression.

DPS come and go. Healers rotate in and out. But when a tank leaves, it shakes the foundation of a raid team. And recently, both of my teams lost that critical foundation.

The Silent Goodbye in Death Jesters

Let’s start with Death Jesters. One of our longtime tanks, someone who anchored our lineup from Season 1 of this expansion all the way through to now, decided to step down.

It wasn’t entirely unexpected. He had hinted a few weeks prior that the skill gap in the team was starting to outpace him. We had already started looking for possible replacements, just in case. Then we finally killed Mythic Soul Hunters, pushing us to 6/8 Mythic, and shortly after that… he was gone.

He posted a long goodbye message in Discord and left. While there was an initial conversation about a potential role swap, it seemed like that was rescinded. No sticking around to contribute in a different way. Just… out.

I get it. Tanking at this level is pressure. Every mistake is magnified. Every movement matters. But it still sucked to see him peace out like that, especially after how far we’d come together.

The Overnight Exit in Last Call

Meanwhile, over in Last Call, things were just as messy, but for different reasons.

One of our tanks was frustrated. Frustrated with our DPS, frustrated with the wipe rate, frustrated with what he saw as underperformance across the board. That frustration boiled over in our post-raid discussion.

I wasn’t there for it. But from what I heard, another raid leader got into it with him and dropped something to the effect of, “If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

That is not how I would’ve handled it. Not at all. I was in the middle of making something to eat because I don’t eat during raid.

I would’ve tried to de-escalate. Maybe said something like, “If you’re this upset, let’s take a week and transition you out properly. I’ll help you find a team that’s a better fit.” Instead, by the next morning, he was gone. No message. Just silence.

He had sent me logs from Loom’ithar trying to justify his performance, like being 5th overall on DPS, despite being a tank. But it didn’t mean much when our raid wasn’t alive entering that phase. Ranking doesn’t matter when over half your team is dead.

And yeah, I didn’t Vantus the boss that week. Maybe that would’ve helped us kill it earlier. Maybe not. But we did kill it the next week. And now we’re working on Fractillus.

In any case, losing him left a big hole, and the timing was awful.

Why Tank Losses Cut Deeper

Tanks aren’t just bodies. They’re the backbone.

There are only two of them in a raid. They work closely together, and that chemistry takes time to build. Good tanks anticipate each other’s movements. They coordinate cooldowns. They position for the raid. They set the tone of how the pull is going to go.

When you lose a tank, you’re not just filling a role. You’re rebuilding synergy.

And it’s not like replacing a DPS where you can post a recruiting message and get 10 responses. Quality tanks at the Cutting Edge level are rare. And they know it.

What To Do When a Tank Leaves

It sucks. But it’s not the end of the world. Here’s how I’m handling it now, and what I’d recommend:

  • Always be scouting. Even when your roster is full, keep feelers out. You never know when you’ll need someone.
  • Have early conversations. If someone seems off or expresses doubts, talk to them. Don’t let it fester.
  • De-escalate instead of confront. Tensions happen. But leadership means diffusing, not igniting.
  • Offer transitions, not ultimatums. “Let’s find a better fit” works better than “Then leave.”
  • Cross-train players. Having a flex DPS who can tank in emergencies is worth its weight in gold.

Looking Ahead

In Death Jesters, we managed to have a replacement lined up. A tank from our Shadowlands era was ready to step in.

In Last Call, we’re temporarily playing with a tank from our Liberation of Undermine run. He’s stepping in for the next few weeks, but he’ll be out of the country after that. I did have a few promising tank applications, and we’ve selected one. The guy raids on a weekday team that’s roughly on the same level of progression as we are, so he’ll have twice the amount of reps.

Progression slows without a stable tank lineup, but we’ve been able to find some improvements in that tank spot right now.

Closing Thoughts

People come and go in this game. That’s just the nature of it. But tanks?

Tanks are different.

They’re the heartbeat of your raid. And when one walks away (whether it’s due to burnout, frustration, or just needing a change) you feel it.

If you’re a raid leader reading this, my advice is simple: build a deep bench, check in often, and never assume silence means everything’s fine.

Got to be ready if a key personnel changes their mind or life comes crashing down and affects availability.

Trading Time for Gear: Why Our Raid Is Pivoting to Heroic Progression

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In both Death Jesters and Last Call, we’ve been progressing through Normal and Heroic Manaforge Omega since the start of the season, and we’re officially hitting that crossroad every raid team eventually reaches: Do we keep farming Normal for loot? Or pivot fully into Heroic, even if it means some players are missing pieces?

In DJs, we’re still continuing to certain normal bosses (not a full clear). If we really wanted to, all of normal can get cleaned out in 45 minutes. We actually need that gear to help us on Mythic Forgeweaver and onwards.

In Last Call, the answer is crystal: Time matters more to us than gear. We’re not at the point where our gear is impeding our progress.

Making the Shift

It’s tempting to keep clearing Normal every week just to get that one trinket, that one weapon, or the last few tier pieces. In Last Call, we only raid six hours per week. Our biggest bottleneck right now isn’t item level. Our bottleneck is time spent seeing, pulling, and learning bosses.

While other teams can double-dip and run full clears across multiple nights, we don’t have that luxury. Every hour we spend reclearing Normal is an hour we’re not progressing on Heroic, or practicing mechanics that we’ll eventually need to execute cleanly on Mythic.

We benefit more as a team by:

  • Pulling Heroic bosses more often
  • Learning encounter pacing and clean transitions
  • Practicing cooldown timing, and both positioning and movement consistency
  • Giving raiders more time to develop confidence and reps

Addressing the Gear Gap

It’s true that some raiders still have gaps in their gear like a missing tier piece, a low-stat trinket, a weaker weapon. But we’re not losing fights due to gear. We’re losing because of missed interrupts, poor positioning, or phase transitions that could be smoother with more reps. Sometimes we applied cooldowns in the wrong area when we needed them in some other stage of an encounter.

There are other gearing methods:

  • Mythic+ is fully available between crests, vault rewards, and hero track gear upgrades.
  • Players can run Normal in pugs or our open community runs if they still need specific pieces.
  • Crafted gear and sparks are already in play.
  • Champion-level gear can now be upgraded fairly easily via dungeons and crest farming.

The raid doesn’t need to carry this load. Each raider can take charge of their own gearing path while the team focuses on progression.

Informing the Team

I know that not everyone’s going to agree with the approach. Some players will feel left behind if they’re still missing key gear. It’s important to frame this as a strategic team decision, not a punishment.

Here’s how we’re approaching it:

  • Clear communication ahead of time — not the day of the raid. This gives everyone the time to run it on their own.
  • Outline the why: More reps lead to more kills. We’re no longer wiping to damage.

Some players will be frustrated. That’s okay. But the path forward needs to be clear, and the longer we delay that pivot, the longer it’ll take to reach our full potential.

A Final Reflection

In the last Notebook post, I mentioned that Last Call reached Phase 3 on Dimensius several times. We didn’t kill it because we lacked gear. We just needed a little more time.

That’s what this is all about! I have to maximize the time we have to give ourselves the best possible shot. We’re trying to hit Cutting Edge, and that takes reps, not just gear.

If there’s still certain pieces that are needed, it’s time to pray or make a generous donation to the vault gods!

Raids Fail When Leaders Don’t Explain the Why

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We had been deep in the trenches on Gallywix before we finally defeated him, and let me tell you, this boss is no joke. As with most late-tier Mythic fights, we hit that phase of progression where execution hinges on precision, coordination, and everyone knowing exactly what they’re doing. Sounds familiar, right?

What’s been interesting this time around is how much work has gone into our Raid Plan. I’m up to nearly 20 slides now. And yeah, I can already hear some of you groaning. But every revision, every screenshot, every zone marker has a purpose. Or at least I thought it did.

Let me walk you through a key moment that perfectly illustrates something raid leaders (myself included) often get wrong.

The Warlock Gate Wipefest

There’s a point in the Gallywix encounter where we drop a Warlock gate from the back of the room to the center. That’s nothing unusual on the surface, right? This one occurs right before the third coil needs to get neutralized (or using the third bomb).

However, this specific gate serves a layered purpose. It’s timed around canister soaks, or the healer soaks, specifically. The expectation is that the healers will gate into the center to meet up with DPS who are already soaking their assigned canisters, so they can get help fulfilling their mechanic. Sounds simple.

Before this, our healers were stacking with tanks. This change required them to re-learn their movement entirely.

So what happened?

  • Some players took the gate too early.
  • Others too late.
  • A few sidestepped into beams they weren’t supposed to bait.
  • The rest just stood around trying to figure out where they were even supposed to go.

For hours.

The Missing Link: The Why

I gave the callouts. I gave the slide. I even drew the lines. What I didn’t do? Explain the why.

Once I actually walked the team through the reasoning behind the gate timing and placement — how it allowed for quicker healing support, why baiting mattered in that moment, and what the positional advantages were — things just clicked. Execution became consistently cleaner. The team died less. We made real progress.

It hit me: as raid leaders, we assume that giving instructions is enough.

But if your team doesn’t understand why they’re doing something, it’s never going to land with the precision it needs. You’ll get compliance, not necessarily the buy-in. And there’s a difference.

Overexplaining vs. Clarity

I hesitated to explain too much because I didn’t want to overload people with information. I thought, “They’re smart. They’ll figure it out.” But I’ve learned the hard way that clarity supercedes brevity when it comes to raid strategy.

Some things are intuitive to me because I’ve spent hours in logs, watching replays, tweaking plans, and seeing it in action in DJs. That’s not true for the average raider. If I don’t walk them through the mental model I’m using, how can I expect them to follow it perfectly?

Ownership Starts at the Top

This ties in perfectly with a concept from Extreme Ownership by Jocko Willink and Leif Babin. There’s a chapter where the leadership team makes an unpopular call, and the people under them get frustrated — all because no one stops to ask, “Why are we doing it this way?”

If I tolerate confusion or silence, that’s on me. If I don’t create space for questions or curiosity, I’m building a raid culture where people are afraid to raise their hand and say, “I don’t get it.”

And to be clear, there are no bad players, only bad coaches. That includes me. I want to be better.

Next Steps for Us

We’re going to start encouraging more midweek questions in Discord. If someone doesn’t understand something, they should never feel like the only time to ask is in the middle of a pull. That’s already too late. Alas, sometimes it doesn’t always happen though because they don’t know what to ask until they’re actually there.

This happened again yesterday night during our Mug’zee reclear. We had a Holy Paladin in who missed out on progression kill the first time. He did not stack with the group on the second rocket soak and unfortunately he got selected for the third rocket (with the four Gaol set) and it led to him being unsure what to do or where to place it.

Normally, we have five designated players soak the first rocket, then avoid the second rocket. Anyone who gets hit by the rocket receives a debuff so that they won’t be targeted again. By the time the third rocket comes around, the first five players who took the first rocket are now eligible targets for the third one, and it allows us to add consistency to where that third rocket should be positioned, and immunities can be used.

I’m also looking at bringing in a few more CE-level veterans during the offseason — people with leadership chops who can help reinforce strategy across multiple roles and add another layer of mentorship to the team. People who raid week days and are looking for something to do towards the end of the week are also encouraged, so check us out and come apply!

Final Thoughts

Raid leadership isn’t about barking orders. It’s about helping your team buy in, understand the vision, and execute with confidence. Don’t assume they know why you’re doing what you’re doing. Spell it out. Walk it through. And most of all, listen when they tell you they’re confused — even if they don’t say it directly.

Because once they understand the “why,” you’ll be amazed how much faster the “what” falls into place.

It’s Not What You Preach, It’s What You Tolerate

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We had a raider recently who didn’t even realize we’ve been using raid plans the entire season.

Slide numbers were being called out, cooldown assignments had been posted, and key positioning diagrams had been up for every major encounter. Yet somehow, this person (who had been with us for multiple weeks) acted like it was brand new information.

Look, mistakes happen. Miscommunication happens. But this wasn’t a one-off moment of confusion. It was part of a larger pattern.

And it reminded me of a concept from the book Extreme Ownership by Jocko Willink and Leif Babin: the “tortured genius.”

The Problem with “Tortured Geniuses”

This isn’t about someone dealing with mental health challenges or emotional instability. In the context of leadership, a “tortured genius” is the person who’s talented but toxic.

  • They never accept responsibility.
  • They always have an excuse.
  • They point fingers the moment something goes wrong.
  • They’re too good to follow instructions, but never at fault when things break down.
  • And they assume their DPS or logs are enough to justify any lack of accountability.

These players are a trap. They often look good on paper, and they might even be “top performers.” But they are absolutely corrosive to your team if left unchecked.

What You Tolerate Becomes the Standard

One of the most powerful lines in Extreme Ownership is this:

“It’s not what you preach, it’s what you tolerate.”

You can talk about standards all day. You can write raid plans, post cooldown assignments, link guides, and review logs. But none of it means a damn thing if your actions don’t match your words.

If you let someone show up unprepared, ignore instructions, dodge feedback, and stay in the raid team week after week, then that becomes your standard.

The rest of your team sees it. And whether they say something or not, they’re thinking:

Why should I bother putting in the effort if that guy doesn’t have to?

Red Flags: How to Spot the Behaviour Early

Sometimes you don’t realize what’s happening until the damage is done. Here’s what to look for before it gets to that point:

  • They aren’t in Discord for strategy discussions.
  • They never reference or acknowledge raid plans.
  • They need constant reminding of their assignments.
  • They respond to feedback with sarcasm, excuses, or silence.
  • They do well on meters, but that’s where their contribution ends.

If you’re seeing this, you’ve got a “tortured genius” on your hands. And it’s time to deal with it.

How to Handle It (Without Nuking Morale)

Start with a direct 1:1 conversation. Be clear, but not confrontational.

“We’ve noticed a consistent pattern of missed prep and dodged feedback. That’s not going to fly on this team.”

Lay out your expectations: reading plans, owning mistakes, showing up to strategy sessions, and staying engaged with the team. These aren’t optional, they’re the baseline.

If they want to improve, give them the tools. Offer a second chance. Track their behaviour over a week or two. But if nothing changes?

You already know what needs to happen.

Removing a high-output player who’s dragging down team culture is addition by subtraction. You don’t build a CE-calibre team by tolerating passengers with attitudes.

Culture Over Numbers

Cutting someone isn’t about drama or proving a point. It’s about setting the tone.

If you want your team to value preparation, ownership, and collaboration, you have to reinforce that with actions. That means cutting loose the ones who refuse to buy in (even if they can crush a target dummy).

Culture on a team can be fragile. If you let one person ignore the standard, that standard crumbles.

It’s not what you preach. It’s what you tolerate.

Ask yourself the hard question. What are you tolerating right now?