Clearly, we lost the war against the Burning Legion, and reality was destroyed. We are trapped in our faded memories of it. We cannot conceive of anything else, and that is why we return to it time and time again. No matter how many times we die and how much we suffer, we return to over and over for more Sisyphusian punishment. We are trapped in a hell of our own making and oblivion is the only release.
Most people are simply not awesome enough to handle being a gnome. I can kill things whose toenails are bigger than I am. I command hulking demons to do my tiny bidding. I have more hit points that most warriors. I'm ten pounds of badass in a five-pound bag, with ten more pounds of cute crammed in for good measure.
Not big on pink hair, though; stylish grey for me. Pigtails for the win!
It's very hard to rationalize our relationship to alternate characters. Here is a person whom we have not only never met, but whom it is impossible for us to ever meet, yet we are perfectly willing to share all manner of goods and cash with them with no expectation of compensation at all. There's also the matter that we have shared knowledge and a common set of friends. It could be the case that I use my dark magics to possess other people and ride around in their skin, making me the true character and them just fictions of a fiction.
Alternately, if we want something less "reality"-bending, perhaps they are old college roommates of mine. That would explain why, when I get mail demanding "Ne-ni, I need some mo-ney!", I don't just brush it off and get mad. For some reason, I'm visualizing that last line said with a Puerto Rican accent, which brings to mind a possible sit-com where I live with an immigrant night elf priestess who's always getting annoyed by my madcap bungling, and there's an elderly dwarven couple that lives upstairs and hangs out with us. I think this idea for I love Neni! has real potential.
The language-mangler is deterministic. It computes a hash on each input word, then uses that hash to select a word from a pre-generated list of words the same length as the input word. I do not, at the moment, recall if the hash is dependent on just the one word or if it is sensitive to the rest of the sentence. That is, "elf" in common comes out as "kek", but "darn elf" might not end in "kek".
Since the number of pre-generated words is fairly small, this transformation is many-to-one and thus not reversible. That is, "elf" and "lol" both come out as "kek".
This word-based mangling means that each language can be given a unique, identifiable characteristic by making the list of words used be phonetically consistent. That is, Gnomish sounds kinda Scandinavian while Orcish is full of guttural sounds. With systems that replace individual letters, this sort of consistency is almost impossible to achieve. Such systems do make it easier to only partly-mangle text, representing partial knowledge of the language in question.
I view tradeskills as content. Making exploding chicken robots or assembling my own set of armor is a hobby. It's fun for me, the player. I am willing to spend my character's money for the entertainment value provided by a pursuing a tradeskill. If I'm really lucky, I'll break even.
It occurs to me that this Hearthstone-network nonsense is merely another rationalization by people who fail to accept that we are, in truth, demigods. My inquiries show a very high correlation between being able to shrug off death and being able to communicate telepathically. I theorize that in our reawakening, our souls do not fully re-enter the corporeal realm, and that a part of us remains behind in the spirit world, acting as a sort of antenna that allows us to intermingle our thoughts with those of others.
The question then becomes, if we can transcend death and speak across continents, why are we not the rulers of our world? Why are we a caste of heroes and champions, as opposed to masters of our societies? Why do we still follow orders from those who see fit to do little more than stand around? This only lends further credence to my hypothesis that we are actually trapped in some sort of hell, forced to relive the patterns of our lives without being able to examine them critically.
I've previously wondered about the physics of things. For instance, gravity pulls you down at a constant rate. There's no acceleration, so it's clearly not a conventional force. In fact, there seems to be no acceleration at all in the game. Things go from zero speed to constant speed and back in the blink of an eye. Momentum does not exist.
However, all player races travel at the same speed, whether they be short little gnomes or tall old tauren. Thus, I hypothesize that there is a "speed of sentience", which is how fast an intelligent being can move. In fact, there's three speeds at which you can move: stopped, walking, and running. There is no in-between; it's analogous to electron orbitals. Monsters are clearly less intelligent than us, hence they can move faster. Mounts, being even dumber, let us outrun them. This clearly means that epic flying mounts rival the IQ of a brick.