Managing editor Glenn Battishill and sports editor Chris Bils are locked in an eternal battle to determine who is truly the best, a gaming nerd or a sports nerd. They will alternate facing each other in alternate arenas to determine who is the top nerd.

Chris is 1-0 after defeating Glenn at the game of “M3c91,” a variation of “Horse.”

Glenn: This week I knew defeat was impossible. I’ve played so much “Call of Duty: Black Ops” since its release that my game disc is literally broken. Much the same way Chris would wear out a basketball.

Chris: Let’s just get this much out of the way: I knew what I was getting into with this one. As a 20-year-old male, I am somewhat embarrassed that I have failed to develop satisfactory skills in first-person shooter games. Kind of like Glenn has neglected the game of basketball, I suppose.

Glenn: When deciding where I would do battle with Chris I chose the map “Nuketown” because it is the smallest map and easiest to navigate for N00bs like Chris. The score limit was set at 1500 points (50 points per kill) with no time limit. I knew Chris was going to have a hard time when he was totally lost at the equipment selection screen, barely knowing the difference between any of the games many weapons.

Chris: I felt like I had been dropped into an alternate version of FIFA where I was forced to play in Italy’s third division and pick teams without their rankings listed. I just ate Chex mix and let Glenn figure it out for me. Bad idea.

Glenn: I selected a solid load out for Chris; the accurate and automatic Commando rifle, the powerful M1911, flash bangs, grenades and a landmine, because after all, it’s not the weapons that matter but the skill we use them with.

Chris: Skill… right. As the game opened up and I was dropped into what appeared to be someone’s suburban house, memories came flooding back. Horrible memories of being blown to bits at Halo parties my freshman year of high school. I suddenly remembered why I stopped playing these games in the first place. Basketball star Kevin Durant, help me!

Glenn: Your foreign gods will do you little good here.

Chris: I decided to take the least dangerous route possible, walking down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Glenn: A popular route and one that I had rigged with a landmine. Nothing quite satisfies the soul as much as seeing your rival explode.

Chris: Ok, so this isn’t your grandma’s kitchen. Instead of finding fresh-baked cookies I found only fresh-baked me. Back to square one.

Glenn: After suffering a humiliating defeat at basketball I decided I was going to kill Bils in as many ways possible. Next up would be the flamethrower I had attached to my machine gun. I lied in wait at the bottom of a staircase biding my time before Bils decided to descend the stairs.

Chris: Small steps. I decided I should at least get a shot off this time. I wasn’t about to hide, though. As I started to descend the stairs, I saw that Glenn was at the bottom of them. “Why isn’t he shooting me?” I thought. “Could this really be my first kill?”

Glenn: Chris finally remembered that he was supposed to be shooting at me, so he squeezed the trigger as he descended the stairs. Unfortunately for him, aiming is an integral component of firing a weapon and his bullets spray all around the room hitting everything but me. As he reached the bottom step I pulled the trigger and flames shot out of my weapon and engulfed Chris, quickly charring him.

Chris: I hadn’t been burnt this badly since I accidentally fell asleep outside this summer. Tragic.

Glenn: Next I decided, “Why waste a bullet on a ginger?” and switched to my throwing tomahawk and proceeded to stalk Chris around the map.

Chris: Ok, so I was starting to grasp Glenn’s strategy. If I get close enough to kill him, he’s probably going to light me on fire or blow me to smithereens. Just as I was thinking this, a tomahawk flew through the air and split my head in two.

Glenn: Next I was just going to stab Chris, plain and simple. I saw him run around the other side of the bus parked in the street and I silently followed until I stood mere inches away from him. “Behind you,” I said coldly.

Chris: I would be a stupid, stupid soldier. When someone is behind you with a weapon, you should not, under any circumstances, turn around. Glenn 4, Me 0.

Glenn: This is about the point when I let my ego get the best of me. Next, I was going to run right at Chris, dodging all of his wild bullets and stab him in the face. This didn’t work out the way I hoped when Chris suddenly remembered how to aim, sending a stream of bullets flying through me. I switched to a sniper class and re-spawned with a vengeance.

Chris: Imagine my surprise as Glenn lay dead in front of me. In fact, I think I was almost as surprised as he was. Having been informed that “Call of Duty: Black Ops” is a Cold War Game, I had the perfect sports parallel to inspire me. Glenn is now the Russians and I am the USA. This is no longer a random suburban neighborhood, but the Olympic hockey rink at Lake Placid in 1980. Do you believe in miracles?!

Glenn: Nyet.

I took a moment and made Chris stare at my screen. “This is the PSG1 sniper rifle, Chris,” I said, beginning a rant. “With this gun and its variable scope I can easily see you from anywhere on the map. This is the Michael Jordan of guns. It never misses.” I demonstrated its effectiveness as I headshotted Chris while he was in an alleyway and I was perched across the street.

Chris: If the PSG1 sniper rifle is the Michael Jordan of sniper rifles, I can only assume I have been assigned the entire Cleveland Cavaliers’ roster.

Glenn: The situation did not improve much for Chris. He would occasionally get a kill when I was trying some strange and extreme execution like dropping a mortar strike on him or when I was texting my girlfriend.

Chris: A kill is a kill is a kill is a kill. Wait, that’s way too many kills. There’s no way I ended up with that many.

Glenn: As my score neared 1500 I switched entirely to the Ballistic Knife, a Russian made knife that shoots out of its hilt with a great degree of accuracy. I mentioned to Chris that if he hit the right arrow on his controller then he could see my position on his radar.

Apparently hypnotized by this new information he stood perfectly still and studied his radar as I knelt about 20 yards away and shot my knife at him. It was a direct hit to the heart and Chris collapsed dead leaving me victorious with a score of 1500 to 450.

Chris: At least I didn’t break a sweat walking back from Glenn’s College Avenue apartment. I thought I was going to have to revive him with the emergency Gatorade I purchased from the Eagles’ Nest. We’re coming back to my world next time!