Whatever Happened to the Games We Loved?

Video games make you violent. I had undeniable proof of that controversial statement because I was going to kill my roommate. Granted, he was the one playing games, not me. Nonetheless, they were going to be the cause of his forthcoming murder.

For the third night in a row, I was being kept up by my roommate playing Rocket League. Every goal, for or against his team, was met with a cacophonous scream. Important tactical information like, “I got it,” and, “My bad,” was being shouted down his headset mic onto Discord. The constant buzzing of his car’s engine poured out of his desktop speakers. Two walls and an apartment of space between us did little to dampen the volume. I glanced at the time on my phone. My alarm for work would be going off in less than three hours.

I contemplated getting up and telling him to turn it down. However, I knew my complaints would do little to improve the situation. He would apologize and keep quiet for a while. Within half an hour though, he would forget, and his excitement would rise alongside his volume.

Plus, I do not handle confrontation well. My preferred style is to act passive-aggressive and let issues fester. I rolled over, tried to go back to sleep, and buried the violent urges to strangle my roommate deep inside my soul.

Besides if I was being kept up, then the same was probably true for our neighbors. Perhaps one of the more sociopathic apartment residents would come over, break down our front door, and shoot my roommate in the head. Problem solved.

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