I went to lunch with my brother today.  This is a somewhat common occurrence.  We are both soldiers for the Empire.  We usually talk about programming or family business, but often we get deep into discourse over his recent gaming/macro-ing exploits.  I have often wondered what it might sound like to the casual observer sitting next to us in an adjacent booth.  Today I had the displeasure to find out.

Seated near us was another pair of thirty-something, t-shirt garbed micro-brethren locked into their own vigorous banter, gesticulating rapidly, almost shouting with undue enthusiasm over their own on-line exploits.  Their conversation went something like this.  “And then I went, wap, wap, bam, bam, bam” Hands were in the air, chopping in rapid succession, tiny little jabs meant to simulate the miniature feel of the actual on-screen weapon held by their own tiny avatar.  “And then he went jawaah, bop, bop, and I went fahwing, fwap, fwap, and he went down.”

I was embarrassed for them.  Really I was.  It reminded me of being a goofy teenager, standing in the hallway of my high school chatting with my gaming buddies.  “And then we both took out our holy symbols and rolled 20's!  Pow!  The skeletons were dust.“

Matt