“Why are you dancing naked in front of the bank, Tyler?” I cast an eye over his character’s ensemble. “Semi-naked.”

Laughter peals through my headphones over the chat server, and I’m unable to tell if Tyler’s the one laughing or another guild member listening in.

“I am not naked, I am wearing my Sage armour set,” he retorts.

“You mean the one that looks like you have no pants on?”

Tyler’s female Elf character on my computer screen continues her sexy movements, and a human male avatar joins in. “Don’t judge! Do you know how much gold this armour cost me? I’m trying to make some money back.”

“And do you know you’re a twenty-two-year-old guy flirting with someone who’s probably also a guy? Did you ever consider that?”

“And he could be a hot girl who likes playing a guy. Aha!” His triumphant voice pushes through the mutterings from the other guild members. “He just gave me ten gold.”

“Definitely a guy, then. You’re so sad...”

“But richer!” The elven version of Tyler stops dancing and words appear on the screen.

Deleet blows you a kiss.

You sigh at Deleet.

His character approaches and stops in front of me. The best part about playing an online game? All physical contact with other people is virtual, and that’s how I like life. Most of the time. My head twinges again at the encroaching reminder of my passion-filled night.

After yesterday evening and the day I’ve had, I need to escape. At work, more customers than usual decided ‘awkward’ was the word of the day, closely followed by ‘rude’. My years working in the Perth pop culture store filled with clothes and varied fandom accessories taught me to plaster on a smile and handball to my manager anytime I can’t cope. All I’ve wanted since around 11 a.m. is to come home and get stabby with monsters online.

Unlike customers, Orcs can’t call me a bitch, or talk to me like I’m five years old. Plus, I can kill them without facing a lengthy jail sentence.

Better still, this is a raid night: Several hours with my online friends locked in an imaginary scenario—often a dungeon—where everything wants to kill us. But if we kill the monsters first the rewards are plentiful. Some of the best loot in the game is found on the hardest enemies—the bosses. The team play and co-ordination needed to kill these most difficult foes takes practice and skill. The process can take weeks of frustrated nights behind keyboards, with drinks and food to help us through the constant onscreen death and destruction, but as a team the sense of achievement at the end is amazing.

Then we progress on to the next, bigger challenge, until we reach end game, and the biggest boss of all.

Life would be perfect, too, if killing a boss was the easiest way to level up, because that, I’m good at. Skill, co-ordination, and success? Not a feature of life in my real world.

Today more than ever, I’m desperate to lose myself in the raid, hopefully ending the night with an achievement. Or some shiny new armour.

“Nice. You finally crafted your Deathbringer robe,” says Tyler.

I click to open my portrait on screen and admire my latest creation. I spend more time dressing the imaginary me than the one I see in the mirror at home. My hidden, childish desire for dress-ups in flowing robes and shiny weapons is realised in this fake world. In game, I stand out from those around. In life, not so much.

My real-life, declining wardrobe is the direct opposite. The only detail on my grey game t-shirt is the coffee I spilt down it earlier, and my sweatpants don’t share the same allure as the shining red and black robe on screen.

Last night, I was Evie, press-ganged into attending a party with Erin, and attempting to function as a normal human being. Tonight, I’m a Sorcerer, Sinestre, and entertainment consists of a large bowl of nachos, dip, and several energy drinks.

Socialising behind a keyboard, voice only, means no chance I’ll end up in bed with any guy I’m with tonight. Not that any I play with are candidates. I know half the people I game with, including old school friends I’ve played with for years. Now in our early twenties, we’re heading separate ways in real life, but relationships never change in the game.

“Yep. I also bought a new necklace earlier so my Wisdom is higher. Should be a good boost to my damage.”

Silence.

Telling silence.

“What’s up guys?” I ask. “Did someone not show? We are raiding, right?”

“Uh. Sin. Can you heal tonight?” asks Tyler.

Excuse me? “Heal? I’m a damage dealer.”

“Yeah, we kinda promised Thor he could raid with us again,” says real-life friend, Cole, in a cautious tone.

“Who the hell is Thor?”

“Thorsday. Paladin. Huge-ass damage. He stepped in last minute when you dumped the raid,” replies somebody I only know as the character Lorlien.

I bite down on my lip to prevent myself snapping back. “I did not dump the raid. I missed one evening because I promised Erin I’d go to the bloody stupid party, and now I’m relegated to healing?”

“What the hell’s wrong with being a healer? You don’t care when I’m saving your ass!” puts in Spencer.

“Sorry. Just don’t like the role. My healing is crap.”

“Naw, you rock whatever role you play, Sin. C’mon. We promised Thor a permanent spot if we beat Logmar with him in the raid.”

“Permanent as in taking my place?” I snap. “Seriously?”

“No, Sin. You just switch spec and heal. He’s bloody awesome,” Tyler says.

“And I’m not?” Anger builds in the pit of my stomach. Yes, I can heal, I did early on in our group questing, but I don’t anymore.

“That’s not what we’re saying. He has better gear, maybe once you catch up—”

“Who exactly is he?” I demand.

“My cousin’s, mate’s mate.”

“And he’s called Thorsday? How original. Let me guess: blond, human male character? Am I right?”

“Yeah. And?” asks Tyler.

“As in Thor? Is he fantasising he’s a Chris Hemsworth lookalike?”

“Maybe I am.” An Australian accent, soft spoken, hints of amusement, joins the conversation. “Good evening.”

I flick to look at the chat server and see Thorsday in the list of users. Hmm. “Sure,” I say with a laugh. “And I look like an elven queen.”

“Actually, you kinda do, Sin,” says Cole.

“Because my hair is a matching colour sometimes?”

“Nah. You’re tall and a bit skinny.”

“The term is slender, Cole. And my ears aren’t pointy.”

“What kind of Elf are you?” asks Thorsday with a small laugh.

“A Storm Sorcerer who throws freaking lightning bolts at people,” I snap. “I don’t practice my healing spells. Paladins have a healing option too. You heal.”

“Yeah, nah.” The sound of a can cracking open crosses the line. “I saw the numbers from the last raid you were in. My damage output is higher than yours. You heal.”

I blink, heart rate rising. “Is that a subtle way of saying you’re better than me?”

“Sure. Okay. I’m better than you.”

I click my mic closed and mutter expletives, then flick the Game of Thrones POP!s lined up on the desk in front of me one by one. Arrogant. Bloody. Dick. I came here to throw myself into fun and relaxation with my mates, to feel a sense of importance after being belittled all day.

And this is what I get.

“How long’s Mr. Hemsworth with us for?” I ask, switching my mic back on. “If he’s so elite, he should be with a proper guild.”

“We are a proper guild, Sin!” protests Tyler.

Blue words flash onto my chat bar in game: whispers from Tyler.

Deleet: be nice he’s okay my cousin says he’s a good guy and knows his shit.

Sinestre: he can’t have my place.

Deleet: we have room for one more.

Sinestre: he’s not part of the team and he sounds like he’ll cause trouble.

In the background, Thorsday talks in gaming jargon the casual players would have no idea about. He knows his character class inside out, quoting percentages, scaling, armour upgrades, and more. I bet he spends his whole life calculating to a millisecond his damage output.

“Disagree,” I reply to one comment over how Sorcerers can’t match Paladins.

He ignores me.

Completely blanks me.

“Guess I’m doing something else tonight,” I say. “Enjoy the raid.”

“Don’t go!” calls Cole.

“I’m not going anywhere, I have some quests to finish in Aleria.”

Silence. So much bloody silence tonight.

Thorsday breaks it. “Are you always this childish?”

“Excuse me?” I cough back.

“They’re not kicking you out, they just need you to take a different role.”

“C’mon Sin,” pleads Tyler. “We need you.” He elongates the word ‘need’ and I clench my teeth.

Nobody calls me childish. “Fine. This time. But I damage deal next time.”

“Evie!” interrupts a voice from the real world.

I pull away the noise-cancelling earphones, which always fail when my housemate Erin bursts into my room and yells. This girl’s respect for privacy ranks zero, as does her filter.

“You look like crap, Evie, and why aren’t you ready?” My diminutive best friend stands with a scowl on her face, wearing a cute floral dress covered by a green cardigan; an outfit I recognise as ‘time for a night out, Evie’. Her glossy black hair clipped from her face and make-up applied confirms my suspicion.

“I can’t go out again. I’m still recovering from that bloody party.”

“You swore you’d come to the movies with me when I asked you last night.”

“I don’t remember, and I was very drunk. I have a raid, I already missed one this week and can’t miss any more.” I gesture at the bright computer screen.

“You spend time killing dragons with your friends almost every night at the moment! Spend some time in the real world again, you need to. Just a couple of drinks and a movie.”

I re-arrange items on my desk, which don’t need re-arranging. “I’m not killing dragons.” I sigh at her ‘who cares’ face. “Who’ll be there tonight?”

“Aha! Is this because ‘he who must not be named’ might be there?”

“No.” Yes.

“Yes. One drunk night in his bed and you behave like he’s stolen your honour. What’s with you? We all make mistakes.”

“One lapse of judgement and too much alcohol, and I succumbed. I’m embarrassed. This is why I don’t go to parties.”

“You were pretty drunk,” she says with a smile. “You danced around the room drinking from a bottle of Alizé Bleu shouting ‘I have a mana potion’ until you tripped over.”

I rub my forehead and cringe at the memory.

Erin sits on the edge of my unmade bed. “You were drunk but you did give consent, right?”

I flush red. “Not only did I give consent but I was the one pulling his clothes off first. No unconscious intoxication on my part.” Erin blinks at me but fights laughing. “Stop it! It’s not funny.”

“Sorry, Evie, but it is.”

“Who do you think knows about what happened between us?”

“No idea. Probably me, you, him, and whoever he’s bragged to.“ She wrinkles her nose. “And most people probably guessed, since your faces were glued together for an hour, and then you left.”

Ugh. “Exactly! I’m keeping a low profile until this blows over. I don’t like finger-pointing and sniggering.”

A cough echoes into my ears and blood draws from my face at the next words. “Your mic’s open, Sin.”

Oh, holy mother of crap. I click over to the list of names using voice chat. Eight people in the guild are connected—and listening; some who don’t know me beyond the game, and now know a very different side of me.

Such as Thorsday. I hold my head in my hands.

“Did you hear all that?” I whisper.

Snorting laughter continues.

“You bloody bastards!”

“You were talking in public.”

“You kept quiet though, you should’ve spoken so I’d know you could hear.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” says Tyler. “Who is this guy? Someone I know? Does he play?”

“Obviously,” laughs out Cole.

“Screw you,” I snap back.

“Tetchy.”

“Kinda makes my naked dancing look tame, Evie.”

“Stop. We need Sin for the raid, don’t piss her off or she might leave,” Cole says.

Exactly. Mind made up, I yank off my headphones and close the game, heart thumping with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. I love these guys, and the majority of the time they treat me no differently to each other. Half of them play female characters online and the sexism either misses my ears or is saved from when I’m not playing. Talking about my sexual conquests in front of them...uh, not good.

“I didn’t hear what the guys said, but hopefully it makes you want a drink?” Erin gives me a light shove towards the doorway as I stand. “Change into something else.”

A text hits my phone in seconds. Tyler begging me to log back on and raid, guilt-inducing comments about letting them down for a second night. Assurances nothing else will be said about my indiscretions.

“I have to stay,” I say to her and myself. I don’t know who this Thorsday guy is, but I need to show the guild I’m committed and they should hand me my bloody role back.

Erin huffs loudly and stomps out of the room shouting comments about how I should talk to a professional about my addiction.

I log back on with a bright hello. One comment about my other extra-curricular activity and I’m gone.

“Was that Erin?” asks Cole.

“Yes. “

“Who’s she going out with?”

“No idea. I can’t remember.”

“Right.”

“So, you raiding or not, Evie?” interrupts Tyler.

“One word about...it and I’ll log straight off. I don’t care if we’re fighting when I do and you need my heals. You can all die horribly.”

“I know a healer if you don’t want to raid,” says Thorsday. “You obviously don’t.”

“I’m a part of this team,” I say in a cold tone. “Are you?”

* * *

Our characters meet outside the grey, castle-like building stretching into an orange sky: Elf, Human, Dwarf, and Hobgoblin. I recognise my friends’ avatars and the new one: human, blond hair, and admittedly impressive armour, who stands nearby.

I laugh and take a swig of Red Bull. He really is trying to make himself look like his namesake; this world is a bigger fantasy for some than others. Thorsday takes over with a run down on our strategy for tonight. Does he think he’s in charge after one night helping the guild?

Begrudgingly, I admit to myself that with his help, the guild made progress towards the end game last night. But that doesn’t give him the right to change everything; I don’t like change and I hate not feeling in control. Adding somebody else into the team disrupts my safe world, never mind that he’s also elbowed his way into a key position. Mine.

He’d better be as bloody good as they say.

We step through the portal and the music increases with dramatic effect as we prepare for an evening of battle. I move towards Thorsday, as close as my avatar can.

Show me what you have that’s so impressive then, I type as a ‘whisper’ so only he can see.

There’s a pause before he types a whisper back, Don’t worry, I will.