Cataclysm, the latest expansion for World of Warcraft, will hit shelves next week. Millions of copies will be picked up by eager hands and left clumsily hidden under welcome mats by delivery drivers.
The face of Azeroth will be changed forever, the very foundations of the game will be reforged, and I will be playing Red Dead Redemption.
I’ve played my share of Warcraft. I’ve done my time in the Deadmines, re-specced to take on Prince Malchezaar, and watched Dalaran slow to a crawl thanks to my somewhat-antiquated video card.
I’ve spent hours in an achievement haze, doing busywork for ephemeral awards. I’ve reported more gold-farmer spam than I care to recall. But I’m not joining in on the latest content blast. Why? Because of all the many ways that Warcraft has scarred my mind and soul, the most profound is this: I now hate elves.
You’ve got to understand here — elves have been a part of my life as long as I can remember. Tolkien elves and Gygaxian elves and Pini elves and Santa’s elves: If it had pointy ears and lived someplace far from any drive-through espresso stand, it was part of my cultural landscape.
And then came Warcraft. I mostly played Horde, so at first elves were my rivals and occasional enemies. But then they bought in a different set of elves as Horde characters, because for some reason elves are like potato chips — they’re always inventing new flavors. Now you can’t throw a Deadly Saronite Dirk without hitting an elf, usually on purpose.