Chapter 1: The Day Gaming Scatter

When I woke up, every shooter player in the world lost their skills—like say dem divide am by hundred.

As I open my eyes that morning, sun still dey peep through the window blinds for hostel. I fit hear generator hum for distance, and the smell of yesterday beans still dey for corridor. I check my phone sharp sharp. Na so everywhere for game community dey buzz. People dey complain, dey yarn anyhow, some dey even joke say na spiritual attack. One guy even post for status: "If you sabi aim today, abeg drop your pastor number." My own just be say the world don turn upside down, because the way people dey miss shots, e resemble when NEPA carry light in the middle of match—everybody just dey off balance.

Ordinary players no even fit handle basic recoil or sabi how to move and shoot at the same time again.

You go think say na joke. I dey watch clips online, some dey walk like person wey dey learn how to ride okada for the first time, trigger discipline zero. Even my cousin from Ibadan message me, say, "Guy, I no fit shoot again o, you sure say them no use juju for us?"

But na only me remain normal, still dey hold my correct C+ rank.

I just dey look my hands, dey flex my fingers, confirm say nothing spoil for my side. Na so I still sharp, like say na only me remain wey dey chop correct egusi soup for the whole world. Everybody dey complain, but I just dey steady.

As I queue enter ranked squads with my roommates, na so I singlehandedly wipe the whole enemy team finish.

My guys dey for Discord, dey shout, "Jide, abeg no kill dem finish now, leave something for us!" Omo, na you be baba for this street! Na your village dey behind this skill! But my trigger finger just dey itchy. E shock dem as I clear the squad without sweat. E be like film trick.

Before I know am, dem start to accuse me say I dey cheat, begin roast me everywhere online.

Twitter, Facebook, even WhatsApp groups—everywhere red. People dey drag my username like gala for traffic. My roommate even show me meme wey person use my DP, write, "Na this guy dey spoil the game for all of us." The thing funny and annoying at the same time.

Later, I sign up to become pro player.

The whole matter don dey tire me. I just reason say since the game don scatter for casual level, make I try pro scene. Na so I fill form, upload gameplay clips—dem accept me before I even finish arrange my network cable.

Na so I carry my team win Major championship for Makurdi, shock the whole world.

For Makurdi stadium, crowd full everywhere, people dey wave flags, dey shout. Dust dey rise as crowd dey stamp leg, vuvuzela dey blast for background, and the smell of suya dey mix with sweat. After we win, my teammates lift me up, as if I be trophy. Newspaper headline the next day read: "Makurdi Boy Redefines FPS, Naija to the World!" My mama even call me for phone, dey pray and dey cry join. E sweet me well.

But as fame dey sweet, wahala dey cook for corner.