Online gamers have existed way before either Call of Duty or Halo (shocking, right?), and although competitive play continues to evolve, one thing’s remained constant—those trash talking, junk food gorging, tough guy impersonating gamers still fall into one of several categories:
We’re talking “What’s afk mean?” amateurs here, the kind who have kill to death ratios of 1-50 or play Starcraft II as if they’re running the campaign in tutorial mode. These guys are greener than chlorophyll and—if on your team—can frustrate you to the point where you’ll ask yourself, “Would it hurt any worse if I violently lodged my head through my computer screen?” Probably not. But in the words of the immortal Helen Lovejoy, you should “think of the children.” If not them, then at least Bambi. Come on… her mom died. Celebrity counterpart: Chris Klein in Street Fighter.
Boom! Headshot. Boom! Killing streak. Boom! Bullshit. You’re sitting there, wondering how L33tKillZ_92 got you through the wall for the seventh time in a row with just one well-placed shot. You don’t suck that bad do you? Well you probably do but something still doesn’t seem right. That’s because it isn’t. Either this guy’s consulted Lance Armstrong for illicit services, or the admin is even more lazy and incompetent than the French cycling union. Celebrity counterpart: Lance Armstrong.
No, not the green, furry kind that still live under your bed; the anonymous, protected-by-the-veil-of the-internet kind that make it their mission to ensure both you, and everyone else, are as miserable as Donald Trump was after the presidential race election. Trolling can include—but is not limited to—team killing, back stabbing, game delaying (old school Starcraft players will understand), and of course, everyone’s favorite: spamming unforgivingly loud Miley Cyrus music that’s designed to make your ears bleed. Celebrity counterpart: Charlie Sheen before getting axed from “Two and a Half Men”.
They don’t care if you’re having a bad session, even if your mother just died. To them it’s all about perfection. These guys are more hardcore than Jenna Jameson on a porn set. If you botch a single objective, you’re done. If you ask a wrong question, you’re done. If you can’t keep up and aren’t versed in the game world’s lingo, you’re done. Joining these games always leads you to wonder why you ever bother in the first place. After all, if you want to experience the exact same quantifiable level of abuse, you can simply go to work and get paid in the process. Celebrity counterpart: Christian Bale on the set of Terminator Salvation.
They’re like Cheerios: bland but abundant. Gaming to them is meant to be a hobby and not a way of life, which automatically implies they’re unlikely to still be a virgin, like most gamers. Casuals aren’t a threat to you or other gamers unless they happen to attend your school and, while looking up cheats for GTA IV, accidentally stumble upon a cosplay site featuring pictures of you dressed up as your favorite MMO raid boss. Outside game counterpart: Paul Rudd in any movie.
Contrary to popular belief, they aren’t the same as elitists. Though they share similar characteristics—ego, narcissism, and some strong B.O. as a result of few showers—stat padders are like a pro golfer’s caddie: sure, they might have some reputation on the greens, but at the end of the day no one’s really impressed. It’s tough to take guys who lug someone else’s gear around seriously, just like it’s tough to take someone who hides behind his entire unit and picks his spots seriously. These players spend more time fawning over their record and making sure everyone’s aware of it than they do actually playing the game. Outside game counterpart: Mark Messier during his twilight years.
They unleash condescending words and phrases that you didn’t even know existed or were possible, sanctifying sailors and construction workers. These guys are cut from the same cloth as trolls but rate slightly lower on the dickhead meter, restricting their juvenile, imbecilic behavior to mere remarks. Sticks and stones may break bones but their choice words are certainly designed to make you feel more miserable than those nights you come home and cry yourself to sleep after another failed date. Outside game counterpart: Muhammad Ali during any pre-fight conference.
The concept of playing a game for pure enjoyment is foreign to these people, who run numerous accounts to finance said numerous accounts. Buoyed by their tireless bots, these jaded souls bring everything down to a monotonous grind. Game farmers run mining schemes so elaborate and complex, they cause Charles Ponzi to roll over in his grave in envy. Outside game counterpart: Bernie Madoff… after he became Bernie Madoff.
Screaming into your mic, typing in caps lock, and posting inflammatory remarks disparaging their mothers in the hopes of generating a response all accomplish nothing. You’re not sure if they’re blind, deaf, or simply ignorant of the fact that the keyboard can be used as more than just a controller. Typically, not having to put up with excessive rhetoric is a good thing, but when your team keeps losing matches or rounds because several players fail to communicate effectively, or at all, that’s when you slowly start to lose your sanity and transform into the angry German kid. Celebrity game counterpart: Kevin Smith as Silent Bob.
POWER TRIPPING ADMINS
The biggest scum of the online world. In a position of authority for the first time in their life, they wield that virtual gavel rather liberally—and with extreme prejudice—as a result of all the crap they took in high school. These dudes hate everyone: you, your doctor, Mother Theresa, Neil Patrick Harris, even your dog. Trying to get them to change is like preaching monogamy to a Mormon—don’t waste your breath. Celebrity counterpart: Denzel Washington in Training Day.