Dinner with GamingOnLinux

Bellevue, Washington was a busy place this time of year in the summer. Inside Valve’s headquarters, employees to visitors alike were abuzz with excitement, as they were celebrating GamingOnLinux’s 15th anniversary. Champagne was being tossed around, bottles shaking and liquid bursting into the air, as people shouted with joy. Cakes and other sweets were quickly filling up a table that had been set up for this very purpose, as well as cards from those who appreciated Liam Dawe’s work on GOL.

Strangely enough, Liam had invited me to have dinner with him on this very occasion. It was odd considering the feud we had about a year ago and us blocking each other on social media. Something told me the rum and coke he had beside his plate of steak and lobster was making him numb about the incident and was willing to overlook the fact that I had one day suddenly expressed my frustration towards him.

“Not a fan of seafood, huh?” He asked me as he took a stainless steel nutcracker and unmercifully cracked at the shell of the lobster claw, fragments of the shell flying into the air as he squeezed his grip.

“Nope,” I replied simply, instead cutting into my medium-rare New York strip.

He chuckled. “No veggies with those steak and potatoes?” He shook his head, pushing his bifocals up his nosebone. “I forgot how you Americans eat. From how you eat, to what you eat.”

“Yeah, and apparently us Americans are ’traitors’ to you too,” I said, still gently cutting into my steak.

“Oh, come on,” he replied. “Give me a break. It’s just a joke.”

“Yeah. And this ‘joke’ of yours is something that you repeat every year. You call us ‘idiots’ and yet, do you even look at the rafter in your own eye? Do you realize who the actual dumbass is here?”

To my surprise, he actually took the insult in gracefully. He shrugged, taking the exposed meat out of the lobster claw and dipping it in cocktail sauce before popping it into his mouth. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Tell me, Liam, what did we actually do to you personally?”

He thought for a moment, cracking more parts of the shell. “Nothing, I suppose. I mean, it’s not like you guys blockaded me from coming into the States.”

I crossed my arms. “Never hurts to think before you open that God-damned, Atlantic-ocean-sized mouth of yours.”

“That’s my problem, Mark,” he responded, surprised that he actually called me by my name as opposed to “the guy behind Linux Gaming Central.” “I just don’t have a thinking faculty. I only spew out what comes out of my mouth. I don’t take the time to realize that I might get people’s feelings hurt at the things I say.” He pours himself another round of rum and coke, taking a sip out of the glass before setting it back down on the table.

“And don’t forget, you are way too quick to jump to the wrong conclusions, and the sad part is, some people who follow you will immediately believe anything you say, without bothering to check the facts first.”

He laughs again. “Oh, come on Mark,” he repeated. “Why do you look so uncomfortable and on guard? Relax, man. We’re here to have a good time!” He takes my empty glass and pours his concoction into it, setting it next to my plate.

This was not like him. Not the narcissistic, arrogant, stubborn, eight-year-old sack of horse dung that he is on the Internet.

Upon seeing that I refused to take a sip, he continued, “Well, anyway. I heard you’re retiring.”

I shook my head. “Not necessarily. Just needed a break, was all.”

“Oh? Then why is Linux Gaming Central not around?”

“Because, even though LGC might not be around, I still survive and breed onto a different form.”

“So you’re saying you started another website?”

“Yes. So don’t have the nerve to label me as one of those ‘many attempts’ that ‘come and go over the years.’ Because I’m still here.”

He puts his hands up as if he were surrendering. “Alright. My bad. I didn’t mean to assume the wrong thing.”

“Maybe instead of always looking at things from a glass-half-empty perspective, try to look at things from a positive point-of-view. Maybe you wouldn’t complain so freaking much on social media and casting a bad light on everybody other than yourself.”

“Complaining is a coping mechanism,” he said in defense, reaching into his back pocket and getting out his vape pen. I could tell at this point in the conversation my insults were starting to dig into his skin. “After writing for GOL for 15 years, it just sort of comes with the territory. I used to be sensitive like you. But over time I’ve become callused in terms of people’s feelings. I say whatever I want.” He inhales the pen, leans forward into the table, and exhales the vape, as if he wanted to get the vape in my face.

“And you’ll block anyone who dares to have an opinion that’s contrary to yours,” I added, backing up in my chair slightly so as not to catch the disgusting billow of smoke coming from his mouth.

He nods. “Yup! Dude, you should see how massive my block list is.”

“I already know it’s a pretty decent size. Because I know I’m not the only one who’s had a beef with you.”

He shrugs. “It’s for the sake of my sanity, Mark. It’s not like I’ll be streaming one day and see bullets flying through my walls behind my chair.” After he finishes exhaling his bit of vape, he puts the pen back in his pocket and sucks some more of the rum and coke down.

I didn’t respond. I finally dug into the mashed potatoes on my plate, sticking a forkful in my mouth before cutting another slice of steak.

“Man of few words, aren’t you?” He asks, halfway done with his lobster, chunks of the shell still flying in the air with every crack that he took.

“Yeah. Because unlike you, I actually care about other people’s feelings, and take a moment to think before I needlessly say something that might offend them. And when I do offend someone, I make sure I apologize. Just like I did with you.”

“Well, speaking of apologies, the reason I invited you here…was because I feel like I owe you an one.”

“An apology? For what?”

He rolls his eyes. “For being a dick, obviously. I’m sorry that you decided to throw all that hard work from LGC out of the window. I admit, I really liked your writing style. And you were pretty much the only one that cared to link to any of my work.”

“There goes the pessimism again. You complain no one links to your work, you complain you never get interviewed, you complain you don’t get enough appreciation. Dude. I was a patron of yours for a few months. I even bought you a copy of the System Shock remake because you were complaining you didn’t get a copy. You didn’t seem to have any appreciation for that and yet you still blocked me. You complain nobody interviews you, and yet apparently the interview I had with you a few years ago doesn’t count. I linked to your work all the time. Hell, even after you decided to block me I was still linking to your articles. And I know there’s plenty of other content creators out there who link to your work too, you frigging ungrateful cockroach. It kind of amazes me how people have been able to put up with you this long.”

He smirks, pushing his glasses up again as he looked at me right in the eye. The freaking nerve of this piece of crap. “There we go. You’re talking now.” He finishes his glass, pouring himself another. “Well, again, I apologize. Sometimes I don’t see the good in life like you do. There, I said it. Happy now?”

I shrugged. Truth be told, I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. Part of me felt like he was just saying that just to try and butter me up. I knew as soon as this party was over and he was sober, he would resume being that narcissistic animal, have God-awful opinions on everyone and everything, and complain how no one apparently appreciates what he does.

He shakes his head. “I wanted you to be a part of this occasion because I wanted to talk about this diplomatically as opposed to you insulting me at every opportunity that you get. But I’m starting to regret this decision -”

“You can’t really have a diplomatic discussion when you’ve had three glasses of rum and coke,” I interrupted.

“I’ve maintained GOL for over 15 years,” he groaned. “Why can’t you just take one day out of your life to celebrate the occasion rather than roast me to death?”

I shrugged, digging into my steak. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had me here. There goes another thoughtless decision added to your ‘mistakes’ list. But I do appreciate the apology, if you actually mean it. I might just have a little more respect for you after all.”

Suddenly he gets up from the table. He stumbles as he walk-runs over to the table of cupcakes and other pastries. He jumps on top of the table, submerging his body into the sweets, rolling himself on top of the treats.

“See, Mark? This is why I don’t have my driver’s license. This is how I lost my girlfriend. This is how my son hates me. I barely even know how to take care of the poor guy.” He continues to roll across the table, icing and cake crumbs spreading across his body.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Pierre-Loup Griffais and Lawrence Yang egg him on, encouraging him to continue his drunken behavior as they threw their fists up into the air and shouting.

At that moment, I felt like I was the only person in that room who was sober. And yet, for the first time since I got here at Valve HQ, I finally started to crack up. Watching Liam drunkenly roll across the table was quite entertaining.

“Who needs these?” He asked, more so to himself than to me, as he took an envelope from the basket of cards he got, took a lighter from his other back pocket, and slowly incinerated the paper. “Screw GOL, right Mark?

“I remember someone had commented on your retirement post that I should go and screw myself, and that I am a ‘pandering piece of meat’ who thinks that he’s better than everyone else. Well, I hate to admit it, but it’s actually true.” He says this before he spits out a piece of cake from the corner of his mouth.

“Hate to break it to you,” a female voice uttered, “but I hope you’ll be able to pay for this.” I turned around and saw Kaci Aitchison enter the room, putting a long receipt on our table.

“Ah, right. Forgot about that,” Liam replied. He got up from the table of now squished pastries and hurried over to our table, squinting his eyes as he looked at the bill. Then he looked up at me.

I crossed my arms. “If you seriously think I’m gonna pay for this -”

He chuckles deeply. “I’m kidding, man. Stop whining. I’ll take care of you tonight. Especially since I get so much more money than the chump change you got with LGC.” He fumbles for his wallet, digging out a credit card and handing it to Kaci.

“So, did you enjoy yourself tonight?” he asks after Kaci leaves, belching before he takes another swig from his drink.

“It was actually entertaining watching you,” I replied, finally finishing my dinner. “Maybe you’re not so much of an arrogant prick after all.”

“I’m fun when I’m drunk, aren’t I?” he chuckles.

Kaci comes back with the card and receipt. Liam examines the bill one more time, before he sloppily writes his signature at the bottom. “So do you take back anything you said tonight?”

“No, not really.”

He smirks. “Fine by me.” He gets up again, leaning against the wall for support. “You mind giving me a hand getting out of here?”

As I led him to his hotel for the night, letting his arm drape over my shoulder for support, I thought about the events of the night. Maybe deep down, he actually was a nice guy, but he just doesn’t want to admit it. I might have just had more respect for “the guy behind GamingOnLinux” after all.