The goal. Fill the raid before raid night. You count as one. Everyone else has to be talked into it.
Energy. Four a day. Every approach costs at least one. Showering, scouting and farming cost one each.
Interest. Each person has 0–100. At 100 they join your guild. Each attempt adds roughly the tactic's power, times how well it fits their traits, minus their Resistance. The same line on the same person gets weaker every time. They've heard it.
Stink. Goes up one a day. Above 4, in-person approaches get weaker and germophobes won't open the door. Above 7 it's bad. One tactic gets stronger the worse you smell. You know which one.
Heat. How much the world is noticing you. Shady tactics add it; it cools by 3 overnight. At 40 people start warning each other. At 70 restraining orders start arriving and recruits start leaving. At 100 there's an intervention, and the game ends.
Traits. Hover a trait for what it means. Authority figures and your ex nearly double the heat of anything shady. Married people resist until their spouse joins. Rich people don't need your fifteen dollars.
The network. Recruits mention it to their people. New prospects show up with a head start, and every night each recruit has a chance to nudge someone for you. The guild spreads on its own, eventually. That's the dream.
Saves automatically in this browser. "New game" wipes it.
It's 2019. Classic is back. You've waited fifteen years for this and spent none of them on personal growth.
A forty-man raid needs forty people. You are one. Nobody you know plays. Nobody you know wants to. Nobody you know wants to be near you, honestly, and that part is on you.
Recruit them anyway. By any means. Shower occasionally. Stay out of court.