I look pretty incongruous, a Paladin with a Samurai sword, but at least I’m not a goddam Elf with a Shotgun. I’ve run up to this guy on the road, in the middle of nowhere, and we’re hiding behind a tree because we’re about level 12, and those dudes over there are level 18 lumberjacks. They’ve been cutting down trees for about thirty odd years, we reckon, to have levelled up so much in lumberjacking. What else do you need to know? Shouldn’t it be a prestige class that ends at about level 12? Anyway. I see him coming, and the tradition greeting is to jump up and down on the spot aimlessly. This is the World of Warcraft version of “Bro!”. Jumping in one spot conveys all meaning, from “fuckit!” to “sweet!” to “dude come over here”. This is how I greet him, as I greet all newcomers, and how they greet me - a jump, and a “dude”. Dude! We say. We jump. We cast buffs on each other. I jump up and down enthusiastically, and order him to complete a dungeon quest with me. Brute force is the way to go. To shout “You! You will adventure with me!”, usually gets the desired result of “um, ok, lolz”. Much slaughter ensues. Oh, the slaughter is the same. The monsters look different sometimes. Sometimes they take longer to die. But somehow, somehow, it distinguishes itself from Microsoft Golf, in that these swings, while just as repetitive, are therapeutic in a way that Golf is supposed to be, but will never be. Turn around and kill your caddy instead. I think that’s because there is a form of catharsis involved that putting into a hole, no matter how zen, will ever quite reach. And that’s it, that’s all there is to it. I don’t know why I go back, but I do, even if you can get magical dwarves and elves with shotguns and 20th level lumberjacks.