by Russell Puntenney

Video games are weird. Sometimes they work like they’re supposed to, then sometimes there’s like a glitch in the system or something and you end up losing to a 10-year-old in Morocco who can’t even do long division.

It’s not like you think you’re the best gamer in the world, it’s just no one has actually beaten you fair and square yet. No, based on the feedback you’ve so generously offered every time some poser steals a win against you in some worthless piece of trash game you swear you don’t even really care about, it’s pretty clear there are really only five reasons you’ve ever lost:


Sure, you could just run the same play over and over again like that guy that just whooped your ass in Madden, or snipe from that perfect hiding spot all game like that kid that just killed you thirty times in a row in Call of Duty, but how lame is that? So lame that if it were a movie it’d be one you stop on when you’re browsing Netflix just to laugh about how much it sucks? Exactly.

And that’s the reason you lost, not because you weren’t skilled enough to stop your opponent. Please. It’s because you chose not to stoop to their level. Ever heard of a little thing called “class?”


Sure you lost, but it was the first time you’d played in over a week, what do you expect? You were rusty. Plus you weren’t even your usual team, or you were using a different gun or whatever, and you tried this new strategy that you seriously like never use. Plus you were distracted because your phone kept blowing up and you were sitting in a different chair than normal and there was a glare from the kitchen and pretty much everything about that game just seemed a little off.

Granted, a loss is a loss, this one just happens to come with an asterisk. Let’s see that same chump beat you after you’ve had a chance to warm up first.

Then it’s game on.


Obviously you get a free pass for sucking at video games if you’ve been pounding Milwaukee’s Beast with your brozers all night before you play, everyone knows that. It’s not like alcohol is going to make you better at controlling an avatar on a TV screen, now is it? Of course not. It’s not like poker or something. This isn’t bowling. It’s hand-eye coordination in its purest form, something the whole point of drinking alcohol in the first place is to specifically try and disrupt.

Who cares if you lost eighteen games of Battlefield last night? If you were too insanely slosh-faced to remember, it never even happened brah!


Funny how even with all the incredible advances in technology, they still can’t make a goddamn video game controller where the stupid buttons just do what they’re supposed to every time, can they? How the hell are you supposed to compete when the game can’t even interpret your commands? Let alone the fact the cheap ass they matched you up against had an internet connection so shoddy you had to play the whole game in slow-motion. Go figure.

Let’s face it: Michael Jordan FERNANDO TORRES is just another basketball FOOTBALL player if you make him pass the ball every time he tries to shoot. Why should you be any different?


Turns out it’s pretty tough to pull off a victory when the video game gods decide they’re going to just hand the game over to your opponent right at the end. Who knew?

Clearly it’s not your opponent’s fault, so it’s not like you’re immature enough to take out your frustration by yelling at him through your TV screen like a crazy person even though you know he can’t hear you or anything, but it is annoying. Apparently the computer just felt the Jaguars deserved to win this game, so that’s why it let Blaine Gabbert complete a Hail Mary for a game-winning touchdown as time expired even though Peyton Manning hasn’t gone five plays without an interception all game. Because that’s totally how that situation would play out in real life.

Not like those same twists of fate ever swing in your favor or anything. No, when you randomly heave a grenade across the board and end up killing three opponents you had no idea were even in the area for a stat-boosting triple kill of doom, for example, that’s not luck.

That’s skill, baby.