Last night, not long after I put my kids to bed, I made some coffee and turned on my PS4 to play Fortnite. It wouldn’t have made the best spectator experience: I sat perched on an in-game cliff for several minutes, barely moving. I wasn’t playing stealthily, trying to avoid detection from other players. I wasn’t even armed. Instead, I was staring intently at a giant purple cube, hoping it would move. Five minutes into the match — in which I somehow remained unharmed — my patience was rewarded. The rear end of the cube rose into the air slightly, hovered for a few moments, and then the big box rolled forward before settling once again into a motionless stance.
This is what Fortnite has done to me. I’m spending my time obsessing over a...
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