His right hand splayed across his keyboard, then arced up and dive-bombed the Enter key.
"c u doods"
His UAV slammed into the side of their big-rig at the edge of the airfield. His plane crumpled, but when his engines hit the cab the whole mess went on its side, then slid across the tarmac from the force of a bright orange blast of fire. Something cooked off and another blast unraveled the trailer like a cardboard tube.
I alt-escaped and set it for home. "What the hell was that?"
He was cackling again. "How do they not see that shit coming? I've been waiting to try that one for - "
"What in the hell makes you think that's all right? You just killed probably a dozen people!"
"Hey, man, don't play on the PvP server if - "
"What server? There's no server! They - "
"They should switch teams, or countries, then. Whatever. They shouldn't play if they're not up to it. Total war, dude. It's part of the thing."
"The thing?"
"They wouldn't let us do it if it was against the rules."
"What does that mean? Not let us do it? They don't!"
"Then why can my plane even get steered down there? They can control all of our rigs, you know. They could've just booted me."
"They can't just flip a switch, you asshole. It's not like they predetermine what you can and cannot do. They don't code the missions. You control the rig."
"Well, whatever. Then God allows it. It wouldn't be possible if it wasn't allowed. It wouldn't be possible if it wasn't fair game." He shrugged and that was when I made up my mind. He walked off to the game room.
If he'd had a girlfriend and she was legal, I would've screwed her to learn him. He didn't. So I took a claw hammer from the guy fixing my rig and followed him to the game room. The other pilots whispered like kids about to watch a fight. "He's going to smash his Xbox, watch," said one.
I grabbed Griefer's game controller. When he reached for it, I grabbed his wrist, pushed his hand down on the coffee table, and smashed the back of his knuckles. To make sure, I took the claw to his fingers. "Give me the other one," I said, holding out my hand.
He cried. He rolled around on the couch cradling his wrecked hand. His fingers were going the wrong ways.
The pilots stared. They might've come at me if they weren't just Freshmen. Freshmen don't take on Seniors.
Griefer opened his mouth and started to say something, so I swung the hammer again. Broke his jaw.
"Don't take it so seriously," I said. "They wouldn't put hammers in if we weren't sup-posed to use them."
Will Hindmarch is a freelance writer and co-founder of Gameplaywright.net. Do not talk to him about zeppelins or we will be here all day.
