Daddy’s First Fortnite Victory

Remember Fortnite? It’s the violent video game obsession of millions and millions of kids across the globe. We attempted to ban it at the Hamann household, but we’re weak.

For those of you who aren’t in 4^th grade, Fortnite is a game where 100 avatars get dropped on a digital island packed with weapons. The last man/woman/skeleton/lama standing wins.

Luca is fantastic at the game. Watching him is like watching Michelangelo play Fortnite. Elijah is also quite good, but it makes his temper explode. He’s had to replace 2 controllers with his own money due to rage. I’ve had to establish a no screaming rule because if often sounds like cats being tortured in our basement.

Hmm. Reading those last couple paragraphs make me reconsider the Fortnite ban again. But the truth is, I love playing the game with the boys. There are modes where we can play as a team, and I act as a gigantic albatross. The boys often have to warn online players that their dad is currently playing and things are going to go poorly.

My favorite mode is when I play solo and the boys act as my coach. There’s a hilarious role reversal where they become the dad and I act as a petulant 9 year old. They’ll gently tell me I’m doing terrible and I’ll snap at them for bad coaching. Elijah has written me off as a lost cause when I was zero for 4,000 games. Luca hangs in there, encouraging me with one eye while staring at YouTube with the other.

Sunday, I had an hour of free time while the flavors of my spaghetti sauce got to know each other and I asked Luca for a Fortnite coaching sesh. As I fumbled through the first few minutes of the game, Luca had his nose in a tablet and would occasionally mumble, “Don’t take that gun,” or, “Don’t go there.”

By pure luck, I managed to get into the top ten and the game intensified. Luca finally took notice of my play. He stood behind me, giving me instructions on how to maneuver, how to build little forts to avoid getting killed and where to hide from the good players.

Suddenly, I was in the top three. A personal best for me. Luca started screaming at me to hide. For the love of God, hide.

Right outside of my crude fort, the two remaining good players duked it out. Luca’s hands gripped the back of my chair. He whispered, “Don’t. Move.”

The two good players finished their battle and one remained. By some miracle, he or she had their back to me, trying to figure out why their remaining opponent was such a chicken. I made my move. Luca screamed, “Shoot! Shoot!”

I aimed and fired my weapon. Into my opponent’s butt.

The screen froze and the words “Victory Royale” flashed.

I am a 46 year old man. I have a mortgage. Two cars. A wife, two kids. I am an executive with an office and a parking space. But winning that game was the greatest success of my life.

Luca and I jumped up and down and screamed. We hugged. We kissed each other. If there was champagne handy we would have poured it over ourselves.

I looked into Luca’s eyes and there was real, honest pride in them. His son had won.

I think I will retire while I’m at the top.