I always loved when my brother made me play video games with him and hated it when I had the controller. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

In our family, it has long ago been settled that I have no skills when it comes to video game controllers.

I mash the wrong buttons. I block when I should swing my sword. I jump into open mineshafts.

That’s in the games, not in real life. Still, the way my brother goes on about me, maybe he really would like me to get stuck in a mine somewhere.

Somehow my hand-eye coordination goes wonky whenever I have to play anything that requires even a remote amount of skill.

Recently we started “The Curse of Monkey Island.” The game follows a pirate named Guybrush Threepwood as he tries to reunite with his love Elaine, whom he accidentally turns to solid gold by giving her a cursed engagement ring. Whoops.

Throughout the game, players have to collect clues and foil treacherous plots and have banjo battles with other pirates (and that’s just the start of it).

Immediately I was out of my depth. Despite this being merely a point and click game, I nevertheless managed to shut down the game within my first two minutes of holding the controller.

Thenceforth I lost controller privileges. I could only watch my brother and sister play, which was really a relief, because both of them are much better than me.

Also, they kept up a train of witty commentary, such as “Look out!” “Try clicking that!” “Shut up, Alex!”

And I didn’t even talk that much. Okay, so maybe I did. Point is, I didn’t keep up a constant stream of chatter. I did pause to take breaths.

Wouldn’t you know, they proceeded halfway through the game before I even had time to admire the story.

When the time came to face the dread pirate lord LeChuck, my sister thrust the controller into my hands.

“It’s your turn to play,” she said, with a cool nonchalance. As if it was easy!

I pushed a few buttons, quivering with nerves. But the game stayed open, and LeChuck’s evil visage roared at me.

I tried to think of what to do. I had a whole inventory of items. Should I use a helium balloon on the pirate? Or perhaps cooking oil?

Then I shut down the game again. My brother let out a scream that was as bad as LeChuck’s.

“Now we have to repeat everything since the last savepoint!” he cried. “Curse you, Alex!”

While I didn’t turn to solid gold at his pronouncement, I sort of wish I could have. Then at least I’d provide my brother and sister with some value, even if it wasn’t of the video game variety.

So my siblings ended up completing “The Curse of Monkey Island” without me. I never even found out how the story ended.

At least I’m sure of one thing. If I was ever turned to solid gold, my siblings would come find me and turn me back.

If they’re not distracted by their video games, that is.

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Copyright 2025 Alexandra Paskhaver, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Alexandra Paskhaver is a software engineer and writer. Both jobs require knowing where to stick semicolons, but she’s never quite; figured; it; out. For more information, check out her website at https://apaskhaver.github.io.