Hit Points
At five o’clock a loon gave a mournful cry, and Soup and I triumphantly returned to Video Horizons for guild therapy.
When we arrived, the Nest was dark. The lights were out, the blinds shut.
I paused in the doorway. Soup peeked under my arm.
“Welcome,” Fezzik’s voice said from the darkness. “Join the circle.”
I took careful steps forward, blindly feeling in front of me. Soup followed, touching my back. I was too exhausted to push him away. My knee cracked into a chair. I sucked in through my teeth, carefully felt my way around the chair, and sat down.
Soup sat next to me and put his mouth to my ear. “Miles, why did you crunch Scarecrow’s nose for Meeki?”
“Shh!” I said, glancing at Fezzik’s giant form. In the darkness I couldn’t tell where the guild leader was looking.
“Do you like her?” Soup whispered.
“She’s gay.”
I didn’t tell him I hadn’t even been thinking about Meeki when I’d thrown the ball at Scarecrow. I’d only been thinking about winning at Four Square. It had felt heroic, smashing the nose of an asswipe who’d clearly deserved it. That feeling had only lasted a second, though—after Soup had pointed out that I’d stood up for Meeki and before she’d decided to take the moment for herself.
Aurora’s blurry white hair floated through the darkness and joined the circle. Zxzord snoozed in the bunks. My eyes adjusted, and I saw that Meeki was already sitting across from me, arms folded tightly around her chest. I swallowed.
What had happened in G-man’s office? Had she told him what I’d done? If being unsportsmanlike lost a player 1,000 points, how many would I lose for possibly breaking someone’s nose?
“Are we ready to begin?” Fezzik asked.
No one answered.
All I knew was that if the blame for Scarecrow’s bloody nose fell solely on Meeki, then I would get to keep the points I’d earned in Four Square. That would mean I’d only need two golds and a silver in the remaining tournaments.
Pff. Only.
There was a click, and a flashlight illuminated Fezzik’s giant pale face. His mouth hung slack. He spoke in a haunted voice.
“A gamer in China cuts off his own hand so he’ll stop playing games. A gamer in America runs down his father with a car because his dad took his copy of Halo away. A gamer in Sweden calls in a terrorist threat on a StarCraft opponent’s house, and then watches over the webcam as a SWAT team shoots the opponent’s little sister through the chest.” Fezzik’s floating face looked left, then right. “It’s time . . . for video game tales . . . from the grave!”
I could practically hear Meeki’s eyes roll. For once, I agreed with her.
“Fury Burds,” Fezzik said. “Do video games cause violence?”
Silence.
Everyone in the circle except Fezzik had seen me throw the ball at Scarecrow’s face. But no one was saying anything. Soup’s silence made sense. He was unreasonably dedicated to me because I looked like his deceased, abusive stepbrother. I’d somehow earned Stockholm syndrome by proxy. But what about Aurora? And why did Meeki want to take all the blame?
“I don’t think so,” Aurora said.
“Great,” Fezzik said.
I tensed as he handed her the flashlight. Please don’t give me away, Aurora.
She held up the light, throwing shadows across her face. “My boyfriend gets real mad sometimes. But I don’t think games make him that way. He says they help him let off steam.”
“And what do you say?” Fezzik said.
“Nothing, usually,” Aurora said.
“I mean, how do you feel about violence in video games?”
“Well,” she said, “he’s never hit me or anything.”
“Have you ever thought he was going to hit you?”
Aurora looked at her fingers and shrugged.
“Is not hitting enough to make a good boyfriend?” Fezzik asked.
She shrugged again and passed back the flashlight.
“Thanks for sharing, Aurora,” Fezzik said. “Scroll?”
She passed him her scroll and he stamped it.
Wait, we get points just for saying obvious shit?
“Video games definitely don’t cause violence,” I said.
“Miles!” Fezzik said. “Excellent. Why not?”
He passed the flashlight to me. I’d had this argument with my dad a thousand times. Now I could finally earn points for it.
“Well, correl—”
“Put it up to your face,” Fezzik said, pointing at the flashlight.
I tried not to look annoyed as I angled the light toward my chin. “Correlation does not imply causation. If video games made people violent, then Japan would be the most violent country in the world. It’s not, so . . .”
I tried to hand the flashlight back so I could get my points, but Fezzik said, “You don’t think there are any instances where video games make someone violent?”
I froze. Did he know what had happened on the Four Square court? Had he seen? Was he sneakily trying to get me to confess? I knew video games didn’t make me violent. Douche bags like Scarecrow just made me want to throw balls at them. Still, I needed to shift the focus away from me.
“Uh, violence is just human,” I said. “It comes from feeling threatened.” I looked at Meeki. “Like, if someone calls you a bad name . . .”
“Or something really racist,” Aurora said.
“Right,” I said. “Or something really racist. Then you just want to lash out. That has nothing to do with video games.”
I passed the flashlight and my scroll to Fezzik. While he stamped it, I looked at Meeki. She kept her eyes down. I kept staring until she finally looked. I smiled. She scowled.
I could not win with her.
“Anybody else?” Fezzik asked.
Soup raised his hand and took the flashlight. “Once, in Super Mario 64 on DS I took an . . . an innocent penguin . . . and I . . . I threw him off the side of a sky island.” His eyes gleamed like gold in the light. “Sometimes I can see him in my dreams . . . falling forever.”
“Thanks for sharing, Soup,” Fezzik said, taking back the flashlight. “Who here has heard of the Tetris Effect?”
Aurora raised her hand. “Is that where you play so much Tetris, you see blocks floating on the backs of your eyelids?”
“That’s it,” Fezzik said. “Those patterns can trickle into other parts of your life, like when you put groceries on the shelves. And the effect isn’t limited to Tetris. If you play too many video games, you can start seeing pieces of it everywhere. And not only visually. But patterns for how to be successful in life.”
It was dark, so I grimaced. I could see where he was going. I had played plenty of violent video games, but I never felt like decapitating my stepmom when she counted my breakfast calories.
“You only have one choice in most games,” Fezzik said. “That choice is violence. You push buttons to shoot, stab, punch, kick, or snipe people in the head. I want to ask you guys if you think this behavior translates into the real world.”
Another silence.
“Yo, why do people get pissed at Grand Theft Auto but never at LEGOs?” a voice said from the bunks. “You ever stepped on one of those things? Fuuuuuuck.”
“Hush, Zxzord,” Fezzik said. “You’re supposed to be healing.”
Aurora raised her hand. “Not all games are violent. Like LittleBigPlanet or Katamari Damacy or—”
“Animal Crossing!” Soup said.
“Yeah,” I said, “Plants vs. Zombies isn’t going to make me go on a rose-cutting spree.”
“Plants are violent enough as it is in the real world,” Aurora said.
“Wait for the flashlight, Aurora,” Fezzik said, passing it toward her.
When it came around to me, I had something important to slip in, so I held on to the flashlight.
“I mean, even violent video games can make you empathetic,” I said. I looked at Meeki. “Maybe you use your violence for good.”
“Ugh,” Meeki said.
Fezzik finally turned his attention to her. “Meeki, would you like to talk about today’s incident on the Four Square court?”
I held my breath. Please don’t turn me in.
Fezzik tried to hand Meeki the flashlight, but she waved it away. “I don’t want anyone seeing up my nostrils. I’m buying you all tweezers, by the way.”
“Okay,” Fezzik said, “do you want to talk about it without the flashlight?”
“No, thanks,” Meeki said.
“You’re going to lose a lot of points for that punch. A hundred thousand.”
My stomach clenched.
“You’re just lucky his nose wasn’t broken,” Fezzik said. “Otherwise, it might’ve been more.”
Meeki looked bored by this.
He kept on. “You’re here for a specific reason, Meeki. You hit your brother in the head with a Wiimote. I think it’s good that you stood up for yourself with Scarecrow, but you should know better than to resort to physical violence.” He gave her a long look.
Oh God, I had to stop this.
“If you talk to me about what happened,” Fezzik said, “I may be able to talk G-man into reducing the number of experience points you’ll lo—”
“I’m glad she did it,” I said.
Fezzik nodded and handed me the flashlight.
“Scarecrow was being a jerk, and he deserved to be punched in the face. I don’t think violence is good. But I don’t think Meeki was wrong. She was standing up for herself . . . and I think that’s really cool.”
“Yeah!” Soup said.
Meeki gave me death eyes. Fortunately, Fezzik was taking the flashlight back, so he didn’t see.
“Sometimes you need a healer,” he said into the light. “And sometimes you need a warrior. Meeki is our warrior.” He shined the light on her. “But the Four Square court isn’t a battlefield.”
I swallowed. “Exactly.”
Fezzik held out his hand to me. “Scroll?”
“Oh!” I said. “Sure. Thanks.”
I handed it over, and he stamped it. “Miles, I’m giving you an additional five thousand points for good teamwork and for being open about your feelings.”
“Thank you!”
Meeki scoffed. “There are other ways of being violent besides punching people, y’know.”
“Like what?” Fezzik asked, trying to hand her the flashlight.
She didn’t take it. “Let’s see . . . Like railroading over other people’s turn to talk, or making someone take the fall for something terrible you did, or being creepy about a girl you just met.”
I clenched my hand between my legs.
“What do you mean by that, Meeki?” Fezzik asked.
She didn’t respond.
“All right,” he said, flustered. “You need to go meet with G-man for your demerit.”
Oh no, she hadn’t gone yet. What if she was just waiting to tell G-man?
Fezzik stood and turned on the Nest’s lights. We all squinted in the blinding fluorescents. “The rest of you can have some quiet contemplation time before the woodpecker rattles for dinner.”
Soup stacked our chairs. Before Meeki could leave the Nest, I stopped her by touching her arm. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to turn me in.
She glared at my hand. “Touch me again, and I’ll spend the rest of my points laying your sorry ass across the floor.”
I dropped my hand.
She slammed the door.
I felt Soup by my side.
“What is her deal?” I asked.
Soup scratched his hair. “I dunno.”
“Is she pissed because she wanted to be her own hero?”
“Probably!”
“But she was just standing there, doing nothing,” I said. “Someone had to stand up to that douche bag.”
“Yeah. You.” Soup smiled. “You can tell Gravity that awesome story of when you were like ‘Bah!’ and Scarecrow was like ‘Graaaaaaah nooooooooo!’ and then was like Brrlluuuuhhhhhh.”
He dramatically fell to the ground.
I couldn’t tell Gravity that story, not without telling her about V-hab. Unless maybe I told her that the incident happened on a random street corner somewhere. I heard someone say something racist to some girl and decided to step in . . .
I crawled into my bunk. “I’m going to take a nap. It’s been a long day.”
“Okay, Miles,” Soup said. “I’ll work on your cross-stitch.”
“Perfect.”
I stared at the star stickers and tried to feel good about the tournament. I had won a bronze medal in a sport, was 150,000 points closer to my date, and had avenged a girl’s honor by crunching a douche bag’s nose, even if I hadn’t meant to.
I tried to rest, but couldn’t.
Nobody puts princess in a castle.
What the hell did that mean anyway?