An Extra Life

Death is naught more than an inconvenience.
I can withstand the onslaught,
under which most would crumble;
carry a load upon my pixelated shoulders
and not stagger to betray the weight
of my impressive inventory.
A potion, a spell,
or perhaps an apple pie
shall heal my mortal wounds.
I am witty,
I am cruel,
I am the benevolent hero.
Wield a staff, a sword, a bow,
or a pitchfork in a pinch.
I am all powerful,
now that I have gained a few levels
and my helm has an attack bonus.
I live a thousand lives,
fall in love a hundred times,
feel the sting of betrayal,
the exultation of success,
and the onset of a fangirl obsession.
And with the push of a button,
I can start all over:
fall in love,
be betrayed,
and succeed once more.

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Prompt: Favorite past time.
Words Forbidden/ Additional parameters: Don’t use the name of your hobby. Just describe what it is.