ABSTRACT
She is sitting on a slanting rooftop, sensing the sun-baked tiles burn through her sturdy leather pants. Her slow and steady breathing makes her protective shoulder pads move a little, up and down. Her knives are as sharp as ever, one in each side securely attached close to the hip bone, her impressive green mohawk adorned with two braids that come down on each side of her slender neck. She gazes at the horizon, at the glittery waves, the sea birds circling, and the big ships that land down at the pier like clockwork, letting off passengers with things to do and people to see in Booty Bay. The Bay of Booty, she thinks to herself, half giggling. A male low-level orc jumps into the water to go for a swim, his cloak floating behind him. ‘You are now AFK: Away fromKeyboard’, the dialogue box claims, and yet I am right here, attentive, my fingers persistently playing the computer. Booty Bay is right at the border of the jungle in Stranglethorn Vale (Eastern Kingdom, Azeroth, World of Warcraft), a small town housing everything from Happy Bobber’s fishing supplies to The Salty Sailor Tavern, as well as an important port for intercontinental travelling. I write well on that rooftop, with the birds singing in my headphones, the
sounds of waves and a busy day at the harbour blending with the musicality of the jungle (mostly soft percussions). Up on that roof, my body is light and my head is clear. The jungle itself is inspiring as well, but far too distractive. Here, my writing energy is immediately transformed into consecutive efforts to stay alive-to keep her live, and to have her sneak up on people and run her sharp blades deep into their backs before they know what hit them. It is a PvP server after all.1 She eats some jungle-stew, based on tiger meat and apples, and drinks some punch. She feels tipsy and laughs her husky troll laughter. In the corner of her eye, or actually she needs to turn her head (‘You are no longer AFK’), she sees a fatally powerful (well-geared level 70) human warrior woman approach her.2 The warrior looks pretty hot, she must admit, even if she is not really into humans. More importantly in this moment, the warrior can easily take her out, there on the roof, in the stark light of day. It is too late for stealth. She gets to her feet, takes a leap over the edge; I hold my breath for a fracture of a second, and she comes down on the landing with a thud and a sigh. She loses some health, but nothing to worry about. She still has some stew.
