Hugging a Bear

“I want to be able to turn into a bear,” my mother-in-law said, studying the character creation screen.

“Who doesn’t?” I said. Our family had joined forces to hook her up with a game and play time for Christmas. Up until then, she had been playing games in which the object was to match similarly colored bubbles together until they exploded and gave her points. This was fine, but we knew she needed more adventure in her life.

After carefully choosing the delicate features of her night elf, she watched the loading screen with interest, enjoyed the opening sequence, and then faced the only part of the game that has ever given her trouble.

"You want to go talk to the guy with the exclamation point over his head," I said.

"Where?" she said, swiping her mouse across the pad. Her night elf immediately dropped her head, stared at the ground, and bounced impatiently.

"This way," I said, making a complicated pointing gesture that, in retrospect, probably didn't help.

Obligingly, she hit an arrow key, the space bar, and moved the mouse again, somersaulting her Druid into a nearby bush. I realized then that while I had been circle-strafing since nearly before I could walk, this was the first keyboard/mouse game she'd ever played. I got a drink, and settled down to walk her through her first quest: kill ten mangy nightsabers. After she'd tested her devastating druidic magic on a few terminally-surprised squirrels, she was ready to go.

I don't want to brag on her behalf too much, but legends were born that day. Wrestling with the controls, she pinballed off tree trunks, cracking everything that moved with her staff. The mangy nightsabers never stood a chance. She turned in her quest. Drums rumbled, trumpets blared, and a golden light flowered around her. She was level 2.

I wished her luck, and went to work, promising to check up on her often and see if she needed any help.

The next time I saw her, her level 5 druid had just run into a town of furious furbolgs, hoping to give them a /hug because they looked like bears. It didn't end well. After that, I logged in to find her lost in Darnassus at level 8, jumping in a fountain.

At level 10, she and my wife celebrated by throwing a Darnassus bear-form dance party. I still have the screenshot: seven bears forever locked in mid-groove, rocking the house down. By 15, she had an alternate character. She would have leveled faster, but she was spending a lot of time backtracking to help new players through the first quests.

She tells us that the reason she likes World of Warcraft so much is that life doesn't often give you rewards when it should. When she drives to work at five in the morning every day, no one gives her an enchanted weapon when she pulls into the parking lot. When she helps ten people over the phone, a pile of gold doesn't drop into her lap. But when she logs in, she faces challenges, conquers them, and the prizes pour on in.

Now, she has more high-level characters than I do, better gear, far more gold from working the auction house, and the diplomacy not to rub it in my face. I'm not entirely sure I could take her in a duel.

So keep this in mind: a lot of different types of people play World of Warcraft. The next time a night elf druid saves you from a pack of hungry raptors, it may be her. If you confidently challenge a night elf druid to a duel. and she stops peacefully fishing just long enough to destroy you, it could be her too.

If she gives you a /hug right after, you'll know for sure.
http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/community/stories/archive/story1.xml