I can't imagine a less erotic game than World of Warcraft. Quake 3 is where it's at.
Lug in several pounds of computer equipment in a cramped basement at the height of summer, playing FFA and CTF and Arena TDM until 5 in the morning, the whirring of fans and keyboard clacks as loud as the explosions, the jeering screams, the grunts and shrieks of pain from our digital avatars. You're pouring sweat onto your corner of the room, eyes straining and wrists screaming in agony, fighting the clouding of cheap vodka and cranberry juice on your mind as you strafe jump corners and race to red armour just in time to tank a direct rocket hit and retaliate with a railgun shot. You both survive. You both disengage. She jumps from her setup and runs to you, punching you right in the nose. You wrestle her to the ground. She lets a line of your blood drip onto her tongue and drags it slowly up your face.
Every setup in the room simutaniously chirps "5 MINUTE WARNING". You and her are already on the dusty stairs, the heat of a cheap hanging lightbulb dancing with the thuds and crashes of your bodies. She flips you onto your back and pins you.
"You're still bleeding," she sneers. You feel something hard against your stomach. Someone shouts for another soda.
