Quintin Smith: "Warhawk?" I said, sitting for the first time on my new roommate's tiny sofa. This was last October. We'd just ordered pizza, filling the dirty room with cheesy anticipation.
"Warhawk," he replied, turning on the TV. "Secret best game on the PS3!"
"...Warhawk?" I asked again. This guy was never wrong, so it's not like I was skeptical. But really... Warhawk?
"Warhawk," he said, finding a match instantly and handing me the pad.
Six months, two failed relationships and one wet winter later and I'd logged a hundred hours into Warhawk. Not only that, I must have happily watched my friend play a dozen more. And it's not like I can blame my addiction on getting really good at it or anything. I mean, I got good, but not good.
