Let me try my best to convince you:
Instead of putting up your tree stand and waiting for luck to be on your side, you get you a blind and put glass on the horizon. You see a pair of doe working their way through 100 yards out. Ain't no way you'd take that with a bow, or maybe even not a crossbow. The Dragon's on sticks with one in the chamber, you click off the safety and steady your breaths as you try to pick the fat bitch out the bunch. A few minutes later you see that nice 8 point, and he got him some doe fever. You know he's comin in, but the wind switches up on ya, and he get's a whiff, and if you'd have bow in hand, you knew the day was over.
But the Dragon is your friend, and as your reach the bottom of your breath, the trigger squeeze get tighter and you let the .457 fly. You hear something you've never hear in your life before, and that's the thwack of the round as it pierces the hide. The buck runs 20 feet and turns around and looks, while the doe bolt around, but that sound is so new they are still trying to figure it out. The buck beds down and the doe are out to 140. You got two tags so you give it a mil and let another one fly. Click, pop, thwack and you got a hell of a story to tell, all with a descendant of grandpas Red Ryder.