The Gamer

The gamer took a large hit of Narconade and strapped on the Hypno-Helmet for another round. Within moments the drug took effect and the simulation began. This particular game was his current favorite. While his body lay slumped and forgotten on a stained and tattered couch in a dimly-lit, filthy room, in his mind he was blasting undead alien enemies with a shotgun, their bulbous heads exploding in gloriously realistic ways. The gamer proceeded through the intricately rendered and detailed virtual environment, firing round after round at every humanoid creature he encountered.

In the distance he spotted a temple, shimmering in the desert heat. The gamer was making real progress! He had never before made it this far. His heart rate increased. He began to sweat profusely. He uttered strange, animalistic sounds under his breath, and there was a certain excited stirring in his crotch. The gamer was entirely unaware of his physiology – he was focused purely on reaching that temple and killing everything that stood in his way. An exo-zombie lunged at him from the left...he quickly leveled his weapon and dispatched it with a blast to the face. The stirring in his groin increased. He was now fully aroused. A chuckle escaped his lips, followed closely by a long, dangling string of thick saliva. He was fast approaching the temple, an imposing stone structure vaguely Egyptian. Through the internal speakers of the helmet, he could hear faint chanting which seemed to emanate from within the temple. He could now see bizarre symbols carved into the temple's pillars.

The gamer was trembling in anticipation. He reduced a few more reanimated alien corpses to green and purple piles of smoking gelatinous matter and began to ascend the steps leading up and into the inner chambers. A fierce, ominous wind swept across the desert. The chanting increased in volume and intensity. He reached the entrance to the first chamber and paused. Somewhere in the murky, hidden depths of the temple, perhaps aware of his presence and waiting in ambush, lurked the Alien Overlord, the ultimate foe and final target in the game. The gamer had invested weeks if not months of his life on the game. Defeating the Overlord had become an obsession. Though he rarely slept, when he did he dreamed of the alien planet. Often he could not distinguish between his dreams and his time in the Hypno-Helmet. He lived in a world of overlapping, amorphous realities and merged fantasies. In this moment his consciousness was completely occupied with the task at hand – finding and killing the Overlord. All other thoughts, all memories, all awareness of the 'real' world were lost to the void.

He took a deep, anxious breath and entered the inner sanctum. The eerie chanting suddenly ceased. It was unnaturally silent inside the temple, like the vacuum of deep space. He proceeded slowly, each step deliberate, peering intently into the darkness with his weapon raised. He reached a large gallery, with tunnels leading in all directions. Nothing moved in the still gloom. The gamer's entire being quivered in anticipation like a giant, hungry nerve. Which way should he go? He could see no markings or symbols indicating the location of the Overlord's chamber. He was momentarily paralyzed by indecision. His mind raced, his hands trembled. Finally he summoned the courage to move, choosing to go forward on pure instinct.

As he entered the far corridor, the darkness seemed to tighten around him, moving in and enveloping him in a black cloak. The Hypno-Helmet provided a total sensory experience, and at this point he could actually smell the putrid stench of something ancient and hideous lurking in the dark. He was in a perfect state of awareness now, like a paranoid coyote slinking through the moonlight. Sweat and drool pooled at the gamer's feet. He was now moaning in a low, guttural voice. He took a few more cautious steps and stopped abruptly. Movement directly ahead! A massive shape of indistinct features and proportions was writhing in the shadows. He knew immediately what it was: The Alien Overlord was within reach! Don't panic, the gamer told himself. Don't panic!

He tightened his grip on the weapon and yelled, “Come on, fucker! Bring it!” He chambered a round, preparing to fire. Nothing in all his life compared to this wonderful, glorious moment. Victory, validation, and satisfaction of the highest order were within reach. He savored the pleasure of imminent climax. What a delicious sensation! If only real life offered such sublime experiences, he thought. A huge smile appeared on his face. He started forward, hoping to provoke the Overlord into action. He was successful. The creature suddenly lunged at him from the darkness, a shrieking, squirming mass of teeth and tentacles...and abruptly froze in midair. It hung there motionless, its shriek reverberating in his ears with an unnerving staccato rhythm. The gamer attempted to fire the shotgun, but nothing happened. His virtual hands and virtual weapon were frozen in place on the helmet's view-screen.

The he heard it – a loud, persistent banging from above his head. He instantly understood what was happening, and it was not good. His neighbor upstairs was pounding on the floor, and the ruckus had shaken the terminal to which the Hypno-Helmet was attached, disrupting the game. The gamer realized that his war cry must have been loud enough to upset the neighbor...not the first time that had happened. The gamer was absolutely mortified, and he sat there in shock, his mouth agape.

It took several minutes for the gamer to compose himself. When he was sufficiently calm, he carefully removed the Hypno-Helmet and set it down on the couch beside him. He put his head in his hands, feeling defeated. He was so close to completing the game! So close to killing the Overlord and ridding that planet of alien zombies! The gamer was on the verge of real tears. He had invested so much of his time and energy that his sense of purpose and self-worth were intrinsically linked to the game. He whimpered and shook spasmodically. The more he thought about it, the more upset he grew. He then began to get angry.

The gamer sat up, stretching his back and arms. He reached for the Narconade and finished the canister in one hit. The drug's effects were intense and immediate. His mind raced. People are always getting in the way, he thought. They fuck everything up. All I've ever wanted was to be left alone to my Narconade and Hypno-Helmet. I'm not hurting anyone! Why are they always trying to stop me from indulging in the only things I truly enjoy in this dismal, doomed, rotten old world? Planet Earth is a shithouse. People kill each other every day over meaningless nonsense. Wars are waged on the poor, helpless, and innocent. Violence, greed, misery, and wretchedness of every variety plague this pitiful planet. Human beings are a virus.

At least I found an escape, he thought. At least I have something I am passionate about. I keep to myself and cause no trouble...and they keep interfering! The gamer's rage was increasing. That fucking neighbor! He knew I was playing...probably interrupted the game on purpose! He's probably laughing about it right now. Fury rose in the gamer like sick fire. He was naturally passive and non-confrontational, but a perfect, crystalline idea entered his mind. It was suddenly clear what he must do...and he must do it NOW, before any doubt, second-guessing, or intrusive over-analysis tainted his resolve.

The gamer rose from the couch. He was gaunt, emaciated, and filthy, reeking of a thousand showerless days, but filled with a new sense of purpose and freshly discovered destiny. I must kill that asshole neighbor, he thought. It was all so clear to him now. Retribution! Validation! He scanned the interior of his tiny apartment, his gaze cold and intense like a bird of prey. He spotted the perfect tool for the task – a baseball bat from his long gone childhood days in little league. He retrieved it from the corner, admiring its nicely balanced heft and enjoying the weight of it in his hands. The gamer felt powerful again.

Clutching the bat, he calmly opened the door to the hall and left his apartment for the first time in days. The glare of the hallway lights surprised and stunned him, but he adjusted and made his way down the hall towards the stairway. He ascended to the next floor, now holding the bat in both hands as if approaching the plate. He reached the second level landing and was presently aware of a strange smell...a putrid, rotten stench, actually. What kind of appalling things do these people eat? Has something died? He gagged and felt nauseous. As he struggled to contain the contents of his stomach, the hall lights flickered. He then became aware of an eerie buzzing sound emanating from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. The gamer was starting to feel weird. For a surreal, disconcerting moment he was not sure if he was still playing the game or not. He reached up to touch his head and found no helmet there. The hall lights blinked out, and he was instantly plunged into total darkness.

Pure, primal fear fell upon him like a cold wind. “What the fuck!” he yelled. “Who's there?!” He gazed into the black, straining to see down the hall, and becoming ever more aware of the stench and the horrible buzzing sound. He felt like he was going crazy. He felt profoundly ill. He stood motionless, his heart racing, his body trembling. Then he saw it – something was moving in the darkness...something massive and menacing. It was moving down the hall now, FAST. It was rushing at him, a shrieking, writhing mass of teeth and tentacles. The gamer screamed as the Overlord descended.