Back and forth, the little white ball streaks up and down the screen. Two mighty champions face each other with teeth gnashed in concentration, their eyes never leaving the tiny, furiously bouncing orb. Sweat pours from your brow, causing you to curse your lack of a headband as your eyes are seared by the salty sting. So engulfing is the reality of Table Tennis that you simply don't notice the clacking of analog sticks over the staccato pok-pa-pok of the raging Ping-Pong rally. Days after we played, we were still walking around the office making little Ping-Pong noises by clucking our tongues.