People just don't understand.

They don't understand the determination, endurance and courage that one must have in order to travel through the world's wilderness. They don't comprehend the absolute bliss that results in finding something so rare that people would kill for it. Most of all, they don't understand the bonding that occurs with your fellow brethren after you have completed the most treacherous of adventures.

This is the World of Warcraft.

Those of you who play MMORPGs, or Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games as the noobs would know it, seem to get a lot of flack from the rest of world. You're known as being "antisocial," "nerdy" and in some cases, "acne-inclined." But that's because those of us who don't play these games are ignorant. We aren't aware of how addictive it can be trying to find that Adjudicator's Staff, which increases damage and healing done by magic spells by up to 64 when equipped, or the Crystal Band of Valor, which improves your hit rating by 16.

Instead, we look upon you in wonderment, questioning why you aren't a little more productive with your life. You could be out spending your weekends getting wasted or smoking weed till you can't find your own two feet, but you'd rather be in front of the computer screen, organizing your spell books by elemental type.

Most of all, it's not as though you play these games for just an hour or two every other day. Nay, you choose to go on 12-hour binges of non-stop slaying and pillaging, drinking enough caffeine to keep a narcoleptic awake. Some may wish to call you an addict. I, however, believe the correct term would be "devoted fan."

And why gaming? Why must you become so obsessed with clicking the left mouse button and hitting the F5 key? I believe if anything, a lot of people look down upon you because you choose to become addicted to something that is so minimal in one's life. Rather, you should become obsessive over something that would have a more significant effect on you and your loved ones, like gambling. At least with gambling, if you lose you've got something to show for it.

That being, of course, a second mortgage and not enough money to fly home.

However, if you choose to continue exploring the virtual world and making friends with complete strangers, I would strongly recommend that you put your magic staffs down and join the world of Second Life. I first heard about this game from an article in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, which then led my roommates and me to several minutes of Wikipedia and Googling.

Basically, this is like The Sims on crack. You take the form of a person and enter into a virtual land similar to the one we walk on. What differs in this game from others is the fact that you buy stuff with real money. For instance, you can own land for just a small fee of $5 a month. However, if you wish to acquire your own island, which I'm pretty sure is everyone's virtual dream, it'll cost you about $295 real U.S. a month. What a steal.

This game has become so realistic that it has its own economy, which works on the Linden dollar, and has even led to people to get real paying jobs doing tasks within the virtual world, like making virtual clothing. Furthermore, there has been a recent arrival of terrorist groups who go around blowing up virtual buildings and people, and even more impressive is the "virtual riot" that took place between the French National Front and the Second Life Left Unity group.

Of course, leave it to the French to cause all the problems in virtual reality.

But you see, this is something worth getting addicted to. You've got real money involved; you still form relationships with people you'll probably never see apart from a Web cam; and most of all, you never have to leave your computer chair.

People won't look down on you, either. Instead you'll just be considered too cool for the real world. Because who needs to see Mother Nature or deal with face-to-face communicating, when you can do it all in the comfort of your mother's basement?

Reach columnist Eric Uthus at opinion@thedaily.washington.edu.