Once I pique my colleague’s curiosity, she’s full of questions about Warcraft and my character. I’ve been playing World of Warcraft since it came out over seven years ago. I’m not very good at it, it’s true, but I do like it. I like that I can be a six foot tall purple elf, with foot-long ears and face tattoos and I’m still considered the “sexy” race. I like that I can pretend to have agility +140, while sneaking up on an enemy and do my best work from behind.
She asks me what my name in the game is. Marpesia. A dagger-winged butterfly named for an Amazon warrior who specialised in poison-tipped arrows. Because, nobody ever suspects the butterfly. Also helps that my weapons of choice are two daggers and throwing knives. Remembering there are different classes, she asks whether I tank or heal, and I say no. I do damage; lots and lots of up-close damage. My skills are things like: garrotte, eviscerate, slice and dice, killing spree and fan of knives. She’s a little shocked by the bloodthirsty nature of it all. I shrug. That’s my class. If I don’t do a lot of damage, my tanks will die over time and my healers will be next. It’s my job to take that boss down as soon as I can, as cleanly as I can. I feel that responsibility keenly.
Is it stressful? It can be. There are times when so many things are happening at once (fire, arrows, steep edges) that one mis-step causes the entire raid to die. It’s important to be alert, committed and patient. So very patient. She laughs and says I must be in-charge; I say no. Emphatically.
No comments:
Post a Comment