Game Changer

Once upon a time,

A young girl came of age while living inside a fallen tower. The tower was also home to a beast, who made the girl his ward. Although he fed the girl, he paid her little attention except when he played. His games were typically self-involved, yet he often demanded her undivided attention as he faced his challenges. Unfortunately, the beast was temperamental, and if the girl distracted him or wavered in her interest, she was met with rage. Other things had the ability to anger the beast, and if he lost a round in his game he would throw things, yell, and rage anyways. The girl eventually escaped the tower, but her mind was forever trapped with the memories of her guardian whenever an opportunity to play presented itself.

Whether it’s involved writing, drawing, or music, I’ve been telling stories since before I was in preschool. I’m not sure how I would have survived my childhood if it hadn’t been for my imagination. I know I can’t live without it as an adult.

There’s always been a particular appeal in creating my own worlds with their own rules, as opposed to immersing myself in a world someone else made, where the rules are complicated and allow unwanted things to happen.

Being with a gamer like Azul puts me in an interesting position. Some of his games I enjoy watching unfold as much as any book or film.

Unfortunately, for every Arkham Knight, there is a game like Killing Floor.  The first time I saw the mutated aberrations in Killing Floor 2, their blood mingling with their victims smeared all over the hospital walls, I actually threw up. When the monstrous boss Patriarch zapped onto the screen, Quentin ran under the bedcovers and whimpered at his rattling voice.

It went better after that shocking initiation. However, earlier this week my boyfriend joined an online gaming party and played Killing Floor. He wore his headphones so as to minimize the disruption for me, and I decided to take a nap. 

Unfortunately, as video games often elicit a strong response from their players, so did it with the team. And all I could hear was one voice shouting obscenities in frustration.

My father.

I woke with a sob in my throat and tears on my face, my boyfriend cupping my face with his hands.

“I am not him,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. He left the game soon afterwards and spent the remainder of the evening watching nostalgic videos with me.

I’d like to say gaming wasn’t ruined by my childhood, but obviously this is not the case. However, this new chapter of my life is not defined by the past ones. Azul has been playing Kingdom Hearts for the past few days. He will return to Killing Floor 2 today, but I think it will be fine. He knows not to yell in anger, and I know not to fall asleep on this one. 

What matters is that we try for each other. We will always try, because it’s our world and our rules.

–G.G.