According to recent statistics released by Sony, the average MMO gamer (I assume for Sony games) is a thirty-one, with eighty-five percent of them being male, living in a standard family structure, and belonging to the middle income bracket. The image that I conjure up of this player is much different than the ones that seemingly exist in the game. I don’t know about you, but this is generally the group of “characters” I end up with:
Terry, a twenty-eight year old guy, living in his grandma’s basement, out-of-work, and lives and breathes the game. He has eighteen alts, all the crafting classes covered, the best gear, and you always find him as a guild leader or group leader. Strangely, he is so highly organized and knowledgeable you ask yourself why he is living in the basement, without a girlfriend, and no job?
Jeff Jefferson, who plays an Ogre mage aptly named JeffJefferson. This kid is twelve-years old, and his mom has found that the recent MMO is a cheap and proficient babysitter. While mom is off getting some at the bar, the group is getting their fill of Jeff who constantly begs for money, equipment, and cheats. He is of the age and mentality that he thinks there are special power-ups and moves in the game — what little he reads, he still trying to get that special power to unlock by moving North, North, Jump, West, Duck, North, North?
Wanda, a forty-five year old, divorced over weight mom of six, who has no apparent income and often complains her kids have no shoes, socks, or pants, yet she is playing twenty-four — seven on the game with a rig that would make Jeff Gordon blush. She is a whiz at statistics, spells, and skills yet she tells you she can’t find a job. The only thing that grates you more than her stories, is that she calls you “Hun” all the time — belittling you down to one of her six mangy kids.
Mike, the thirty six year old bachelor, who is tanked by 5 PM on three cases of beers — and for the love of god don’t ask him which beer is better, or you better close the chat channel. Mike is introverted and without girlfriends; yet all his characters are scantily clad females with names like LargeTitus InYourFace. After you comment on his deplorable name, he keeps telling you, “Get it!!?!! its Large tit s in your face, get it? Get it??”. after about a minute of you shaking your head sadly, he says: “Get it!!?!! its Large tit s in your face, get it? Get it??”. Ya, Mike I get it!!!
Brad Jockitch, the over-the-hill-muscle-bound-boob, that recalls his glory days when all the world bent over backwards for him, how the chicks dug him, his boss glorified him, and his family put him on a pedestal of pure ivory. Now Brad is sunk to poppin’ oxycotin every fifteen minutes, half of the time AFK while he is off using the “bio-break” or getting himself another whole-wheat tuna sandwich. “I was one-tenth of a second away from making the Olympic Shot Put team!!” ahhhhh Brad, shot put isn’t measure in time? …………… Long tenable silence, “Did I say Shot Put ((gurgle)) ((gurgle)) I meant Lacrosse, sorry I have sixteen various kinds of painkillers in my system.
Tina, To-Hot-Handle, Torres. Oh ya baby, I often get Tina in my group, ya baby!! Twenty-two, hot, and sexy….willing to talk the talk, and walk the walk….go to her website and she is dripping all over the site in hot and sexy poses. She is willing to find backwaters of any world and seek out the promiscuous in all and all a good night. The strange thing is, is that she has a horribly sounding voice — something between a buzz saw and a pig being strangled to death? Ahh, Tina, lets not do Teamspeak…..
And finally, Svenoluntski Horg’ufanslengorthoria, some swedish multi-millionaire who could pay me more money than I can dream of, to dance naked in Time Square …. could even make Bill Gates blush with envy, yet he is more concerned with playing with a bunch of fat American tools in a dungeon called Chaotic Chamber of Scintillating Hellfire. He types perfect grammatical English, yet can barely chirp a word in English — everything he says sounds like he is asking for another scoop of Hagen Das Ice Cream — Sorry, Sven, I don’t have any Strawberry Ripple HagenDas!!
Ahh yes, my fantastic a typical MMO group. The problem is, you ask, is where do I fit in that list of characters? Well, mull that over while I pop another 1995 Bush Lite (excellent year for American beer), I walk my sixteen dogs, papoose four of my troll looking kids on my back, pop a few painkillers, order my next $8000 dollar Dell, while filling out my government cheese request, and talking to my rabbi why I can’t find the perfect man — man, did I say man, I meant woman, yah, that’s it woman — darn those meds….