Dual-Wielding

During High School, I would wake up early so I could play video games with my brother or my father before I had to go to school.

I sit at my wooden desk, a thick, black laptop computer in front of me. A small, green wooden table sits behind me. On the green wood, I set a thin whit laptop. I turn on the same videogame on both computers. My little brother isn’t awake yet, but I want to be ready to play when he is. While I’m waiting, I decide to start playing the game a little without him. The game shows me a third-person view of my character, and my brother’s. My character wears the plate armor of a crusading knight. My brother’s wears the woven robes of a traveling priest. My character wields two battle axes, one in each hand. My brother’s wields nothing save perhaps a walking stick and a tome.

I wonder if my little brother will get up at all. I got to his room, paying no mind to the noise I make. I ask my brother if he will wake up. He mumbles something in response. I take it as good enough and return to the game. I play both mine and my brother’s characters at the same time. It isn’t easy, but playing with my brother rarely is. We have the same interests, but not at the same time. When he’s ready to play, I’ll have left for school. When I’m back, He’ll want to play, too. But I won’t have time to doddle. I’ll need to work on homework, late classwork, and study for upcoming work.

The mornings are the only time we can share. For in the evenings, I have no time to spare. I hear an alarm, it’s not my own. Someone is awake. I’m no longer alone. Someone to play with before I go to school. It’s my dad; he’s awake, now. I ask him to play. Agrees but admits he’s not ready yet. I go downstairs to the gaming-console. It’s connected to the TV. I turn a multiplayer first-person shooter with split-screen. I  take out two hand held controllers for us. My dad’s not ready yet, so I start playing without him. I play both my character and his at the same time. It’s harder to play two controllers at once. It’s harder than it is with the two laptops and the fantasy world.

My dad’s finally ready, and he comes down to play. But so does my brother. I tell my brother he’s too late: I’m already playing with dad. My dad tries to calm him: he tells him we should compromise. My dad probably intends that we take turns with the controllers or set a timer and switch between that fantasy land and the first-person shooter. I, however, don’t think of any of those options, and my dad doesn’t describe them aloud. So do what I think he means and bring the laptops down. I turn on the fantasy land with knights and priests, crusading through forests and jungles. I still play with my dad, but also with my brother. One hand on a keyboard, the other on a controller.