He’s sweating all over his mom’s office chair on his $5000 prebuilt pc playing Minecraft on a pvp texture pack, breathing like a marathon runner. He spots his target, the wild Gamer Girl. He locks on, his eyes narrowing. He is preparing. He starts mashing his keyboard at 1000 wpm. He is focused on one thing and one thing only, and that is ruining your time. He starts autistically screeching as he gets repeatedly turned away and ignored. It all rises to its max, the climax. He can’t take it anymore. As he shrieks in anger, his abysmally low levels of testosterone rise to the top. His adrenaline is rushing up, filing his head. He lets out a piercing howl that vibrates through the night as he flips his table up and start breaking everything in sight. He picks up his PC and 360 no-scopes a window with it. He beats his monitor as hard as he beats his meat when his favorite gamer girl stream goes live. He rips the door off of his hinges, and runs, screaming horribly vulgar things, into the night, never to be seen again. This, my friends, is the wild Gamer.