Many family rooms have them: the wonky video game controller that one martyr is always forced to play with, saying something like, “I guess I’ll use the bad one.” But that’s never the end of it. No one uses the bad controller in silence. It’s a loud struggle—but a worthy one.
As long as there have been consoles and basements and childhoods, there’s been at least one worn out controller plaguing their innocence. Sometimes one can see it upon entering the video game room: there’s duct tape around the base, a splint holding the trigger, and the surface looks like it was dragged behind a motorcycle. Here a game of musical chairs occurs, though it feels more like Russian roulette, because having the wonky controller means you’re going to be killed pretty quickly.
Silently Suffering the Bad Controller
It’s handed out like a leftover veggie dog at a barbeque, and the chintzy owner begins giving elaborate instructions. “Press A two seconds before you actually need to press A,” he says. “Just hold down the trigger the entire time, and try to ignore the electric…
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