Seven pairs pairs of eyes gleam in the dark as they intensely stare down the floor-to-ceiling battlefield, split into 4 equal segments.
Artillery fire is followed by large explosions, which is followed by notable tremors in the darkened room, which results in cries of triumph and terror from the seven inhabitants.
Battle tactics, promises of revenge, and oaths of loyalty are shouted across the room, punctuated by the occasional profanity over a lost life or a destroyed asset.
Chocolate chip cookies are tossed and caught as if the game were actually frisbee, and the Mountain Dew flows like water. The pizza reserves ran dry long, long ago.
Underneath the torrent of noise is the incessant titter of fingers frantically pressing buttons, like panicked spiders performing dances of death on their controllers, as well as the pleasant noise of the box that sits quietly in the corner, humming its satisfaction, as it watches its slaves with its all-seeing green eye: The X-Box 360, King of the Hangout, and ruler over the average teenage mind.