It is 1998 and my father’s nicotine-stained fingers are much more nimble than my own. I need his fingers because without them Solid Snake will die.
Metal Gear Solid is a videogame, ostensibly, about infiltration. The protagonist, Solid Snake, must access a nuclear weapons disposal facility and neutralize a nuclear threat. Eventually Snake is captured and tortured and my childlike eyes are tortured too. My hero is dying.
My childish digits are incapable of the rapid tapping required to refill Snake’s health meter. It’s difficult even for my father, and I can see there’s an option to submit but my father is ignoring it. Maybe his temperament meant he refused to be bested by mechanics, maybe he wanted Snake to survive, maybe he knew I wanted Snake to survive. It didn’t matter. All I really know is Snake survived, the game went on.