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I woke up at one in the afternoon on a recent Saturday, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache. I had stayed up way too late with my friends and was now paying for my night of carousing. My blood alcohol level when I went to sleep: 0.00.
I had elected to spend my Friday night indulging my inner nerd and engaging in an epic battle for galactic supremacy with my friends. Of course, this meant I had to refrain from drinking in order to have my full powers of concentration; one cannot hope to emerge victorious from the field of conquest unless you’re fully focused on the task at hand. But you know what? I was totally fine with that.
I’m by no means opposed to a night of pounding the brewskies with the homeboys, but not every weekend. It gets stale, much like the beer coming out of beat-up kegs. Every once in a while I want to have fun without the baggage of a night of drinking. Hangovers and the stumble-walk home get old.
So there I was in my apartment with my roommate Anil and my two high school friends, Chris and Nathan. After painstakingly setting up a LAN network and making sure everyone was connected, we all fired up our favorite space-based strategy game and settled on teams. I would be paired with Nathan against Chris and Anil. A tough fight to be sure, but a winnable one. The battle began.
Immediately I scrambled to build up my forces and increase my building facilities. I worked my way from one planet to another, effortlessly smiting all resistance in my path. I was kicking ass and taking names like nobody’s business.
Suddenly a blinking light appeared in the corner of my screen and a gritty voice intoned, “Enemy forces have arrived!” What? Where? I frantically scanned the map, looking for the intruders who dared tempt my interstellar wrath.
And there they were, a group of space frigates led by my arch nemesis: Anil.
“Dude, how did you build up that fast?”
“Gotta build up your economy.”
“Dammit!”
I was in trouble. If that planet fell, my flank was exposed and my rapid annihilation was sure to follow. What to do?
I was saved by the timely arrival of some reinforcements from Nathan. It bought me a few crucial minutes to get some defenses in place…and of course, build up my economy.
On and on it went, a virtual cacophony of explosions, laser blasts, and starships streaking through space. The chaos in the game was mirrored by the atmosphere in my apartment. My friends and I hurled insults at each other and orders at our teammates, our manic energy sustained by a fountain of caffeine. I’m certain we were as incomprehensible as any partygoer who’s had a few too many.
“Hey Chris, see that planet there?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s mine now.”
“Not if I build send in my capital ships.”
“Your capital ships got nothing on my bombers.”
“We’ll see about that.”
We traded planets and ships for a while until my team was hopelessly outnumbered and forced to retreat from a key planet. From there, it was only a matter of time until my home world was a smoking ruin, laid to waste by the evil empire of Chris and Anil. I’ve got to remember not to neglect my economy next time.
Why put myself through all of this? The strain of the long hours, caffeine, and snacks which will undoubtedly give me a heart attack? Because it’s fun. It’s the same logic many students use when they decide to go out and drink.
Drinking has its own perils in the forms of hangovers, stupid decisions, and potential legal trouble. But it also has its own rewards. I’ve had lots of fun hanging out with friends at parties. I just don’t feel the need to do it every single weekend. A little variety in my weekend repertoire ensures I’m never bored, and I’m sure my liver will thank me for it later.
I’ve scheduled a rematch for a few weeks from now. It will be at my place again. I’ll supply the caffeine since I’ve got the worst habit while my friends provide the network cables, computers, and of course, battle snacks.
I have a new strategy this time: don’t forget the economy, stupid.
Contact CU Independent Writer Rob Ryan at Robert.ryan@Colorado.edu.
