Kevin Caseyon how to win friends or die tryin'

I've met a lot of new people lately, without once leaving my own sofa.

They have fearsome names such as MK Coldkilla, L3thal Enforcer, Carnage Carl and Odin's Anger and we hook up every night to annihilate each other.

I won't say we're friends, but we form fleeting ties as we're thrown together on-line to play shooter games. Everyone is instantly united behind a single purpose - to win.

There are many on-line shooting games. Some have family appeal; some are hardcore. Yet for all the various battle scenarios and powerful graphics, the most vivid thing about playing them is the sound of other players' speech transmitted live within the game on headsets.

Although coalitions of willing players are drawn from as far apart as Asia, north and south America and Europe, English and bullets serve as the lingua franca. Death matches are the great leveller.

In the newly released Shadowrun, the air crackles with strategic planning in the moments before the match begins.

In the heat of battle, the conversation seldom gets more profound than "Holy shit!" or "Watch out for the sniper!", but the odd unexpected comment like "Everybody look at me, I can dance", keeps spirits up in the online warzone.

Some prefer to let their gameplay and their scary monikers do the talking. The appropriately named "Masta of Disasta" came once to lay waste to all comers in a truly awesome performance. His scoresheet had more kills than all the other players put together. One eliminated player, still eavesdropping on events in the war zone as this one-person apocalypse went to town, summed up our feelings: "Wow, the Masta of Disaster is one tough cookie".

I do find myself judging other players based only on their online aliases. I once embarked on a ham-fisted vendetta to destroy an opposing gamer with the provocative handle of "The Aryan Race". Conscious of my international buddies, I decided to eliminate him. Needless to say, I failed completely and died trying.

At times like these, when my battle judgment has broken down, I have owed my life to complete strangers who, acting as team medics, administer "resurrection" magic so I may rejoin the fray.

Fools are not suffered ("Shut up!"), and the phrase "Kex (that's me) is down again? 'Yep'" rings out repeatedly. With evocative names and disembodied voices, gamers become comrades, make snap decisions about life and death in a five-minute lifestyle lived at a frenetic pace. Ultimately, the best anyone of us can hope for is a minor part in a minor victory and the welcome sound of a stranger saying "Good job".

Then, in the midst of the mayhem, real life sneaks a peek. A dog barks in Ohio to be taken for a walk, a baby cries in Quebec or dinner is served in Dundee and the war must come to an end.