I had a team of young lads playing the murder-mystery room this morning. It was only about three-quarters of the way through their game when I realised it was Friday and that surely the should be at school.
But one of their mums had booked the game so…
Apparently it was some sort of teacher-training day. Or at least that’s what they said when I asked.
But anyway, I happened to mention that I considered taking time off their game when I heard one of the team mention the game Fortnite. Because I hate Fortnite. I think it’s one of the worst games in existence and yet I seem to be in the minirity on this.
But hey, at least I now know what the faces of seven teenage boys would look like as they try to comprehend how an old man – i.e. me – can possibly have heard of Fortnite.
I told them I was a gamer.
I then had to list games that I play to prove this fact.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt pressure like it.
”Go on then,” they said as a hive mind. “What games do you play?”
I play a lot of games. Like A LOT. I have the knowledge of hundreds of different control schemes and game mechanics stored in my brain. I was buying games when they still had manuals. When you had to go into an actual shop to get them. Heck, when they were on cassette and took forever to load…
Could I come up with anything?
Not for ages.
I’ve been living and breathing Hitman for the past couple of weeks and even the shiny bald head of Agent 47 eluded me.
Those kids probably left thinking I was just desperately trying to be cool.