Well, maybe it’s not exactly like my guild officer days. It might be nice to have /gkick functionality again. And officer chat. Oh, God, I miss officer chat…

All joking aside, while the Vanilla WoW 40-man cat-wrangling sessions taught me the bulk of what I needed to become a social media & community manager, the time I spent as a search engine marketing specialist–and mainly the search engine optimization skills I learned–taught me almost as much. It’s funny, though. As a marketer who knows that she started out as a target demographic, I see a huge divide between what an audience needs and wants and what most social media marketers do. I don’t know why it is, but for some odd reason, many of my fellow social media people think that people love advertising, that Twitter and Facebook should be filled with what amounts to commercials, and, of course, that no one would dare unfollow an account for being an annoying bot, bent on helping you earn money while you sleep or pushing something or another on you. Ri-goddamned-diculous.

My promise to the gamers out there that follow CerebralFix’s accounts: While I might encourage you to try out a different game than you’ve mentioned playing already, I will never use our community to sell you anything.

I hear it now. There’s a horrified collective gasp from my bosses and other social marketers, but I’m pretty sure a good chunk of the community managers of the internet are with me on this idea. Maybe it’s all the time we spend in forums, but community managers get to know their audience way better than the average social media “guru” (my God, I hate that term). It’s this familiarity that helps us understand and connect with people, and, while our audience may be smaller, it also tends to be more in touch.

Rules for Earning Your Community’s Trust

I have a few rules I follow to create a small band of loyal misfits:

1. We are always we. To lead a community, you have to be a part of it. Never think of your audience as “them.” You should strive to be one of their friends, albeit the new one who’s a little weird and still getting to know everyone. The minute you act like a stranger walking into a club or like a member of the family, you’ve gone off the path you need. You have to be comfortable, but not so comfortable you’ve got your feet on the coffee table and you’re raiding the fridge.
2. No one wants to see commercials all the time. No one wants to be sold to. Whether we’re talking about used car salesmen or gold farmers who broadcast their cheap currency in Orgrimmar, we tend to ignore anyone who tells us what we want. Forum posts and tweets often turn into glorified infomercials in the hands of marketers, but community managers avoid this. Instead, we make suggestions, but leave the final decision open to individuals. At the same time, however, we also answer questions and encourage people to share their experiences. We put very few (if any) filters in place and treat negative comments as an opportunity for improvement and growth. And we never plant shills. That’s just bad karma.
3. We have a reason to care. Straight marketers often look at their social media channels as a way to push a product, sell it and be done with it. Community managers, however, recognize our channels as two-way streets. We field questions and garner repeat business by doing everything possible to create a positive experience for customers. In short, we make our audience feel valued. Positive comments are shared. Negative reviews receive public answers and queries on how to improve. Off-topic conversations are joined. For a community manager, the value of a community isn’t in the sales they generate, but in the community itself and its enthusiasm.
4. We live online and in a time when we can be very vocal about our opinions. We  let people have their say, and we respond as human beings. We don’t rattle off memorized nonsense, and we can’t cut a person short just because we disagree. We cannot hide behind corporate policy. We must allow both our audience and ourselves to be who we are. Otherwise, cripes, we may as well be automated programs. And who really likes talking to a ‘bot?

After years of wondering how, I somehow unwittingly used my social media mojo to crack the code and join the gaming industry as the Social Media & Community Manager for CerebralFix, a game development studio based in Christchurch, New Zealand.

My new employer. Isn't it fitting that their logo involves a screwdriver to the brainbox?

Does this mean I’ve moved again? Heck no! Austin rocks, and CerebralFix is an amazing company full of amazing Kiwis that, amazingly enough, are allowing me to work remotely while running amok on their Twitter and Facebook feeds and their blog. Our blog.

Dude, I’m a part of something that’s completely freakin’ awesome!

So, I’m in new-employee/oh-my-God-you-mean-I-get-to-make-decisions shock right now. It’s an amazing situation. I think I may have mentioned this amazingness before.

What’s so great about this job? How about the part where I get to tweet and post about video games? How about that? Yeah! The only unattainable dream I have now is the one with a huge moon bounce, one of those playpens full of plastic balls and a never-ending pizza and beer party. Oh, someday…

Anyways, let me just get this out there: Mom, I love you, but you were wrong. I can get paid to love video games and to screw around on the internet.

Here's what my Saturday will look like.

I’m moving to a new city. It’s a drastic change, but it’s needed.

Ever play a great RPG, but get so bogged down in the side quests that you forget what you were supposed to do in the first place? Yep. That’s my life here in Houston.

By the time this post goes live, I’ll have moved. It won’t be difficult to figure out where I am, but, all the same, I’m not spelling it out. Consider this my attempt to get everything back on track: family, work, actual goals–all that. I mean, for Christ’s sake, I stopped trying to become an editor, stopped working on my novel and, really, just stopped caring about much of anything. I need my save file wiped so I can get a do over.

Here’s hoping it all goes well.

Really, I thought I’d do the desperate and lonely thing, but I’m pretty okay with this. I don’t have to buy anything for anyone. I don’t have to get dressed up while the weather is cold. No one expects anything from me. It’s pretty cool.

So, do I get some points or something?

Truly this optimism seems strange to anyone who knew me a year ago.

For those of you that still read and don’t know, I’m spending a lot of time on Tumblr at Skullrot. I call this my “I <3 teh Interwebs” blog because it’s all memes and nifty stuff that could really only exist online. Things like this:

Death metal ABCs are total WIN, right?

Anyways, Here’s to a Bitchin’ 2011!

2010 gave most people I know their fair share of problems, but going into a new year is like starting a new save file: sure, you know all those problems you had are still there, but in your head, it’s a blank slate, a clean start and a chance to get it right this time.

JRPG players know what I’m talking about.

Apologies for the brevity here, and big props to AV for encouraging me to return WordPress.

Guilds and Social Media Boil Down to Two Things: Trolls and Flame Wars

Social Media: Ridiculously Like Running a Guild

In the past few months, my association with Extra Life Houston has twisted and turned in many unexpected directions. First of all, I’m still running the national Facebook Page as well as the Houston Twitter account. I swear, it’s consuming my life in a not-unpleasant way. I enjoy the barrage of events, the attention it takes and the responsibility.

The only thing I can compare it to is back when I was in guild leadership. Every fundraising or awareness event is like a real life raid. Every donation is like a boss down. Every addition to the group that works out is a relief, and every slacker is a reason to gripe.

Most of all, every social media interaction is like forum trolling.

Trolls, Flame Wars and Noobcakes, Oh My!

And just like when I used to moderate forums, answering questions and muting mouths, the majority of my time consists of listening to questions and comments. For the most part, this culminates in answering questions, thanking people for their Follow Friday support and, when it’s a slow day for commentary, posting “industry news” (read: awesome videos).  But more often than I’d like, the comments and the events descend into murky areas.

As a former guild leader and many-times-over guild officer, I have many tools to deal with odd comments and weird behaviors. In social media, it’s as simple as a snarky comment in the right direction or some logic to upset the balances. When it crosses the virtual barrier into real life, though, I’m lost. I’m dealing with people from all walks of life, but in my head, it still reduces to MMO archetypes–noobs, carebears, hardcores, casuals, etc.

These groupings work well online. You can tell someone that they’re new and they don’t quite understand how things run yet. You can say that being too concerned with emotions yields negative results. It’s simple to say that you or someone else needs to take a step back because perspective is disappearing. That’s easy online. You say it, and they either accept it or don’t. In real life, though, such comments meet with seething anger, blind rage, tears, righteous indignity, whatever. People are so difficult offline!

From Social Media to Offline Interaction

Go on. Schedule an offline event. Much like a raid with the promise of epic loot, it isn’t difficult to get attendees. It is, however, difficult to predict the volatility of the personalities in attendance. I found this out yesterday. One person’s group of friends was too aloof to interact with other people, another had no interest in anyone except their leader. The core group tried to create some kind of mix, but the resistance was uncanny. It was like each group was static and not interested in a pick-up group at all.

Life is a PUG! Come on, people. Don’t fight it. In order to grow, in order to branch out and do new and different activities, at some point, you have to leave your comfort zone. You can’t flame with everyone, and you certainly can’t lurk.

Clockwise from dude in the blue shirt: Extra Life Houston Chairman Allen Ragasa, the back of PR Committee Member Ryan Cayari

Extra Life: My New Project

My life has recently taken a huge turn for the awesome. About a year ago, I was approached by a friend who was working with a gamers’ charity going by the moniker Extra Life. Started in Houston by Sarcastic Gamer, the group originally sought to aid juvenile cancer research.

Well, guess what: pretty much everyone agrees that being a sick kid sucks. So after the successes of Extra Life in 2008 and 2009, the Children’s Miracle Network decided that tapping into the gamer market might be a slick way to raise money, especially since no other organization had thought to create a philanthropic 24-hour gaming marathon by having people sponsor gamers by the hour–much like runners and bikers raise cash by the kilometer or mile.

A Crash Course in Charity Fundraising and PR

A little over a month since my first meeting, and blammo! I’m waist-deep in committee whatnots. I’m co-running the PR sub-committee with my new friend Ryan, and we’re wading through unknown territory. Thanks to the time I spent working with the University of Houston in the Development and University Advancement wings, though, I’ve got an inkling of where Extra Life needs to go.

Changes on Things I Learned from Video Games

So what kind of awesome stuff can you expect to read about now?

• Gamers giving back to kids by raising money for the Children’s Miracle Network
• Awesome events throughout the Houston area, and maybe beyond that
• My new friends at Space City Nerd, without whom many of these incredible events couldn’t happen
• The trials and tribulations of being the fledgling community manager for the Extra Life Facebook page as well as @ExtraLifeHOU
• And, of course, how video games shape my world view

My posts will be sporadic. It’s 8:58 p.m. on June 7, 2010, and this is seriously the first spare moment I’ve had in weeks. This charity committee stuff is enough to make your head spin, but Extra Life is for a really good cause.

Gamers helping kids.

And Mom said my time playing everything went to waste.

(P.S. If you couldn’t tell, I’ve learned a metric tonne of HTML since I’ve been away, too. Take that, worthless liberal arts degree!)

Look, I love Plants vs. Zombies just as much as anyone else. One decent game doesn’t make a system. Look at the Wii. It had Wii Sports. You’re using it as a coaster. No, really, you’ve got your Dr. Pepper sitting on top of it.

Let’s go down the list, okay?

1. The iPad has two options: watch or interact. There’s no in-between. You’d have to hold it with one hand and point with the other, and you know your arm would get tired. Or you could sit it in your lap and let your neck get sore. Either way, it sucks.
2. The iPad isn’t the portable behemoth we were led to believe. You know those issues with glare and general inability to see anything on a smart phone while outside? Yeah. Double the size, and you still have the same problem. But bigger. Woot.
3. The games on the iPad are expensive! And they’re all casual. Now, like I said, I like some casual games, but I’m not paying $10 for something that was $2.99 last week. The only things that go up in value as time goes on are classic cars and classic console games. And that’s only if eBay makes it so.

Man, I don’t even have to go into more reasons. You want an iPad for its geek factor? Go nuts. You want one because you’re an on-the-go kind of person and you don’t want to deal with the hassle of a keyboard? Again, have at it.

But do not–DO NOT–come crying to me when it’s not the gaming wunderkind you thought it would be. The only current game I could see ported to the iPad is Heavy Rain, and that’s only if you’re willing to give up HD resolutions.

But I’ll probably never give up MMOs. They’re fun, even if it’s fun tinged with a deep-seated need for Excedrin and a mute button.

No, the truth of the matter is that I’m frustrated. Chapter Nine of Final Fantasy XIII has the most erratic and needlessly difficult boss battle I’ve played in years. Know what? I’m still not finished with it. I try about three times per day, and three times a day, Lightning and her crew get their asses handed to them. So I’m using the most mature approach I know of: I’ve started over, and I’m grinding out as many items as I can so that I can have fully specced weapons and accessories.

In the meantime, though, my reluctance to use a strategy guide is killing my free time. I still have to go back and finish Persona 4 and Persona 3, especially since there’s a new Persona supposedly in the works for the PS3.

(And the reason there’s no pic is because I don’t want my ass sued back to the stone age.)

Watch the above commercial and tell me there’s not something chronically wrong with copywriters and the guys that approve nationwide commercial campaigns. I dare you.

Seriously, how can anyone in this decade equate teenage driving to Crazy Taxi? There’s some big differences between video game and real driving, but I’d really thought the analog sticks, shoulder bumpers, triggers and buttons on a game controller were a dead giveaway. After all, it’s nothing like a steering wheel, gas pedal or clutch.

More importantly that real schematic discrepancies, this is insulting to the gaming community. Aside from possible licensing reasons, were there no viable alternatives to Crazy Taxi? The game was popular for a very short time, and it  just isn’t commonly played anymore, least of all by teenagers. I thought ads–especially those using or geared toward teens, whose attention span is as expansive as a gerbil’s waistline–are supposed to be timely and relevant. But time and time again, agencies miss this mark with gaming. We’re all teenaged boys, stuck in the mid- to late-90s, rocking out to Creed and drinking Surge. At least that’s what Hyundai would have people believe.

Ad execs: for the love of God, Vishnu or whoever you deify, please stop thinking of gamers as Bill S. Preston, Esq., and “Ted” Theodore Logan. We’ve moved on from arcade cabinets and angular graphics. You should, too.