It is 2am. He is 37. There are 2.45 other people in the silent house. There are 23 people in his Mount & Blade party. There are 0 reasons to be here.
He told himself not to start playing at 9.30pm because he had to go to bed at 10pm. So he didn’t. But after scratching at the web for an hour, picking at links and watching Paradise Circus in a constant loop on YouTube, somehow Steam was available. Somehow an icon was clicked. Somehow, this happens.
It is 2am. He is not really alone as the green glow from the stars in Steam space prove. Each light is another soul fighting a zombie horde, solving a puzzle, winning a war with steel or abrading themselves upon badly written narrative.
The PC shuts down, he struggles to his bed where someone was waiting, but now sleeping. He needs to rise at 5.30am and not shamble into the office carting around heavy bags beneath his eyes. Ah, it’s Saturday, but it makes no difference: there are things that need doing.
Little man comes calling, puts a shoe beside Daddy’s head, perhaps in the hope it will make him stir, let him know it’s time to go out. The discordant music of plates plinking in the kitchen; someone else is tending to domestic bliss. He is letting the side down – he is expected to be up for the challenge of family, not up for Steam and down for day.
Wrestle out of bed. Sleep is for wimps, wimps who don’t play games.