The Archetypes

People frequently scoff at the difficulty (or rather, perceived ease) of my job, so I feel compelled to break it down.

In my line of work, there is a diverse menagerie...nay, bestiary, of people who transcend the normal level of awkwardness, introversion and social ineptitude that we, as a society, have come to expect and tolerate from gamers in acceptable levels.

For classification purposes, and my own entertainment, here are some of the more rare genera of the gamer biosphere.


The Announcer and the Narrator

Easily identified not by sight alone, but aurally. You can expect a high volume of high volume verbiage, extruded by voices straining on the edge of adolescence. To anyone and everyone around them they describe, in acute detail, the goings on of whatever the current game may be, regardless if it's singleplayer, multiplayer, if anyone is in the same game with them or not and even when there's not another soul within shrieking distance. This does not discourage them in the least from continuing their Villain-like monologue, even if their entire unwilling and captive audience is one poor, lone arcade manager.

What to look for: Pre-pubescent squawking and voice-cracking and/or theater majors.
Preffered Method of Dispatch: Strangulation or, if available, asphyxiation...preferably with a sound-proof bag or pillow of some kind.

The Accuser

While the Accuser could easily be mistaken with the previous species during heightened excitement, these special creatures are actually quite camouflaged until entering a multiplayer game. The moment they do, however, their normally docile tones and colors are discarded for more...vibrant trappings. The parallel world they enter upon joining a game, be it online or over the lan, is one fraught with con-men, cheaters and charlatans. Indeed, only they remain bastions of truth upon their virtual death...and like the puritans of old they scream their accusations of 'cheater!' and 'bullshit!' at the sinful masses.

What to look for: Children who come in on Sunday afternoons in nice clothes.
Preferred Method of Dispatch: Clubbing with a blasphemous book (Necronomicon?), or perhaps with a large roll of porno mags.

The Inquisitor

While the previous monsters preferred a long-distance approach, offending your senses from afar, the Inquisitor prefers to also violate your personal comfort bubble in ways that defy traditional rage. Often casually approaching to either saunter up in the seat right next to you, or better, standing with one elbow propped on the back of your chair, they then proceed into what can only be describe as a grueling gauntlet of interrogation. It doesn't matter if you're looking at pictures, reading, watching a video of someone getting hit in the balls or (and this is the worst) entrenched in your favorite game, seconds from the Big Win. It just doesn't matter. They will get their answers.

Strangely they rarely care about answer being provided as much as the answer to their next question...confusing I know. A sample might go something like this:

"Hi! Wat'cha playin'?"
"Oh, this is-"
"Ooh, whats that do?"
"That's, uh, that's-"
"Who's that!?"
"He's-"
"Why are you shooting him!?!"
"I-
"OH WHAT'S THAT!?"

And so on. Until police are called.

What to watch for: An approach vector that can not be predicted, avoided, or survived. Maybe also a spiral notebook and MiB sunglasses.
Preferred Method of Dispatch: Lethal tripwire mines between you and all other spaces.

The Beholder (Not to be mistaken with its far-more-tame D&D counterpart)

Up to this point there was still hope for a semi-normal life, but beyond there lies no hope. Only the gaze. The Beholder is a monster so vile, so repugnant that all resistance in the mind to his advances just shut down. What you're left with is a frozen shell, unable to respond or flee from the horror of the silent stare. That this thing exists is proof to me there can be no divine creator. Much like the Inquisitor they will approach you with determination and a purpose and you may even initially mistake them for the former...oh if you were only so lucky! After a few tense moments preparing for a barrage of questioning that never comes the horrid truth will slowly sink in. A Beholder has attached himself to your screen...and he ain't fuckin' goin' nowhere. The only real defense is to attempt to ignore him, or in failing this (inevitable), feigning ignoring him in the futile wish he'll lose interest.

He's not going to.

At this point you might think I'm exaggerating and I'll openly admit that all prior descriptions had a twinge of showmanship in them, but this...this is as real as it gets. There was really only one Beholder, at the start of things. While he's moved on and been replaced by (marginally) less horrid doppelgangers, he remains high-octane nightmare fuel among staff.

My mind literally shrinks in horror at the logic the brain of this pseudo-person must have gone through to find such a sequence of actions normal enough to imagine and then execute.

His method is deceptively simple: It starts long before he ever enters my arcade where, I surmise, he neglected flushing any portion of his body or clothing with soap or water for many days. Once this critical phase had been archived to his liking, he would then come in with no legal tender whatsoever. Finally, he'll place himself close enough to your person to feel his stink waves radiating outward. Then he'll continue to stare, silently and unblinking, at whatever's happening on your screen.

Perhaps the worst of all, it doesn't matter what's there, be it a game or a book or hardcore sado-masochistic pornography...it will entertain him more...and longer...than you or any sane person.

I've had to repeatedly tell him to give other customers space because, for fucks sake, he was creeping them the fuck out.

What to watch for: A face closer to your screen than your own (seriously).
Preferred Method of Dispatch: Eyegouging.