Jeff: You can play as a Barbarian, a Wood Elf Ranger, a High Elf Cleric, an Erudite Wizard or a Dark Elf Shadowknight.

Tom: Erudite wizard?

Jeff: That's what it says.

Tom: Huh. They went a little heavy on the elves, didn't they?

Jeff: That's the funny thing about the fantasy genre. It promises unlimited imaginative scope, but it's always the same gallery of elves and rangers fighting some pointy-eared, blue-skinned humanoids by torchlight for gold and funny-named weapons.

Tom: It's sub-Tolkien humbuggery, I say. Although I do love how when you name your character they give you all these asinine runic letters. Just in case you want your character to be called Ömñösêláákk. Hey, come to think of it, that's not a bad name.

Jeff: So now we're walking around. We've got a nice God's-eye view of the action, we've armed and armored ourselves, and we're out in a forest fighting whatever goblins or monsters that come along. Make sure to use your spells.

Tom: I'm not at a high-enough level to use any spells yet.

Jeff: So we kill monsters for a while, garner experience points, then head back to Kelethin to buy better weapons and armor.

Tom: So it's mostly just hacking monsters and then shopping.

Jeff: They used to call these games "hack-and-slash." It's more like "chopping-and-shopping."

Tom: We're basically Candace Bushnell with broadswords.

Jeff: I'll give this to "Champions of Norrath": Each time you play, the maps are randomly generated. So you never visit the same dungeon twice. And the music is pretty good, too, if a little "Peter and the Wolf"-y.

Tom: We've now spent 45 minutes killing things and finding gold and gone back to Kelethin, the shopkeeper of which is called Nenmar.

Jeff: We don't like Nenmar.

Tom: No. Because the brother gives you jack for your old stuff and charges you up to your eyes for new stuff. Ömñösêláákk has been risking life and limb for this kingdom, and he's ripping us off. There's no way these "well built padded leggings" of Nenmar's are worth 3,000 gold pieces. Though they would go awfully well with my helmet.

Jeff: I see you're getting into the shopping.

Tom: The fighting is so tedious that the shopping is all I have to look forward to.

Jeff: Look at the names of some of this stuff: "Choker of Embers," "Masterwork Circlet," "Earrings of Warding," "Reinforced Short Pick." I just picked up "The Ring of Tainting."

Tom: Sorry about that. I think antibiotics clears it right up. I myself just purchased the "Long Staff of Impairing." That must be what you get when you hang out with someone with "The Ring of Tainting."

Jeff: Let's go fight some more monsters.

Tom: I like walking around talking to people, if only to hear lines such as, "Tunare willing, things will get back to normal before too long." Tunare willing, whoever wrote that will be hit by a bread truck.

Jeff: We're back in the forest of Lesser Faydark now.

Tom: Jesus Christ. This game is perilously underfunded imagination-wise. These orcs we're fighting have wargs!

Jeff: They're not wargs. They're called "dire badgers."

Tom: "Champions of Norrath" is "Beowulf" meets "Lord of the Rings" gets a lobotomy.

Jeff: How's your gay-o-meter doing now?

Tom: Off the charts. But I want to keep playing if only to get that "Summon Skeleton" spell.

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