Log 01

Home Coming

My controller was about to break under the abuse I put it through that night. I flicked the left analog stick to and fro, clicked in the right thumbstick, hammered down on the R1 button, and grit my teeth hard. My tongue occasionally flicked across my mouth as I continued to mash buttons. A cacophony of swords clashing and clanging blared through my TV set. The console clicked every so often as it continued to read the disc, desperately trying to keep up with the grueling duel that was being fought. After three minutes of the torturing the controller, a wail of death drowned out the clashing swords and splintering shields. Golden text appeared on my screen reading, "Trespasser Defeated."

I slammed my controller on my bed and pumped my fist up high.

"BOOM! THERE IT IS! UH!" I exclaimed to myself. "That's what you get for spamming dark magic! Don't mess me with me!"

A sharp ping came from my TV's speakers. A closed envelope icon flashed across my screen in the upper right corner.

"Is this hate mail?! Yes! YES! Oooooh I can't wait to hear it! Ohboyohboyohboy!"

I clicked on the envelope. A small media player appeared in the center of my screen and played a voice message. My opponent was nice enough to congratulate me on my victory? That sure was nice of him!

"What the - was that, you - cheap ass -?!" The voice of preteen boy(girl?) knifed my eardrums. "Can't fight me like a decent human being, you gotta spam R1?! Get good, you casual - scrub."

You had to laugh, you just had to. I typed out a quick reply on my controller's QWERTY keyboard attachment. I had to thank the young person for such a good time. It'd be rude of me not to.

"You were spamming dark magic," I wrote to the kid. "Excuse me for having a magic barrier and a 100% dark defense stat bonus on my shield. It's not my fault you have to rely on cheap magic. Also: R1 spam with a lightning buffed falchion is the best spam :)"

After sending the child my reply, I decided to save and quit. It was getting a little late. It was 1:32 in the morning and I had to rest up for my only class of the day. Unfortunately, it was at 8 AM. Like any good college, you had to pick all the worst times for your classes; but like any good college student, you had to stay up late playing video games. It was worth missing some sleep over, especially when you had a good run like I did.

Once the console powered down, I shut the lights off, fell back into my bed, and snuggled with my pillow.

"I'd say that was a pretty successful night," I sighed with relief. "Looks like I'll just have about 6 hours of sleep before I have to get ready for class. Might as well turn in now."

I laid my head back and stared up at the ceiling of my room. The darkened lavender walls stared back at me, while the sticky glow-in-the-dark stars and planets shined a dim lit blanket over me.

"It's been a heck of week, huh? There was those dumb presentations we had to do in Public Speaking, the group discussions for that dumb fairy poem in English Lit with the neckbeard professor, and that was about it. What's going on tomorr-uh-today I mean?"

I thought back in my mental journal. I didn't think anything was due that Friday, so I was in the clear.

Something clicked within my fried brain in that brief second.

"Hold on...when's that Anthropology research paper due? I still have to interview people for my social communities topic."

It was due next week, right? Next month? Next year? Please, God, tell me it was in my next lifetime.

I whipped out my cell phone and waded through a few junk mails from my college. My pupils dilated.

"Oh, son of a mother grabbing...it's due tomorrow...? All five pages...? With a works cited...?"

My eyes strained as I read the due date over and over again. There was no way that was possible. Was God punishing me for something I did? Did He not like me playing video games like I did every night? Or was it because I wore that white skirt after Labor Day when I was fourteen?

I'd worry about it in the morning. I just tossed my phone onto my nightstand and strangled my pillow. I buried my face into it.

Dang it all.

The next day, I arrived at my university early despite having a delayed opening due to some snow. I sat down at a bench in the library, surrounded by the great American classics (or should I say the worst books I ever had the displeasure of reading in my career as an English major), and pounded the keys on my laptop. Five pages, just had to write five pages worth of hot steaming B.S. for my research project with a bogus works cited page.

The project was about clubs and student interaction around my university's campus. I had to interview students about social life on campus, how commuters and those that lived at school enjoyed their respective lifestyles, how big the clubs at the school were, all that jazz. It was pretty much anything to do with social interaction among the young people. It was supposed to tie in with the class's study of society and people's behaviors over the years. I really was going to do the work. Seriously. It's just that I got preoccupied with more important matters, like killing a whiny prepubescent boy-girl in a video game. Clearly, you can see my plight.

I finished the essay within an hour, with just thirty minutes to spare before class started. All I had to do now was print this elegant piece of trash and hand it in. There was just one teensy little problem though.

The printer didn't freaking work.

I tried emailing the essay to myself and opening it on the computer that was connected to the library's best printer. Couldn't download it because the net was down. I tried putting the document on a USB memory stick to transfer to the computer that way. Didn't work either; it wouldn't recognize the file at all. The thing didn't even show up on the computer screen, yet it appeared just fine for me on my own laptop. I tried the USB transfer on other computers and the file appeared; this stupid printer-computer just would not read the file. To make things even more lovely, this printer-computer was the only one that wasn't broken that day...and it would not let me print my work. Needless to say, I said many colorful phrases that would make even the manliest of sailors blush.

With all this desperate struggling, I had ten minutes left before class started. It would be a big blow to my grade on this project (more importantly a big blow to my pride), but I had to face it. I was going to get a grade reduction for this, there was no avoiding it.

Everybody handed in their essay when I arrived in the classroom; the professor, a cute old lady of 74, beamed as stacks of equally ripe B.S. were slapped into her hands. When I walked through the door, she caught my eye.

"Shee-On Ha-maw-saw-kee!" she said pretty loudly. She could never pronounce my name right. That's what I get for being Japanese-American. "Do you have your essay for me?"

"About that," I said with a grim scowl. My voice trembled as I spoke. A thick venomous layer of anxiety coated every word I said. It burned my very tongue.

I placed my laptop in front of her on her desk. This was the only hand I had left to play. It wasn't going to be the flush I wanted, but it was all I had.

"I was rushed out of my house this morning so I didn't get the chance to print it," I lied through my teeth to get some sympathy, even though this excuse was as old as she was. "I tried to print it in the library, but it wasn't working at all. I tried for a whole hour, but it just wouldn't print the paper. I know this isn't acceptable, but I just wanted to show you that I DID do the work. I can print this out for the next class, but I wanted to prove that I did the essay."

The professor's smile vanished. I knew it, I was going to get bumped down a letter grade...maybe two for that filthy lie I spat out at the start. She scrolled through the whole five pages, reading tidbits here and there. After a minute, she looked back up at me. This was it.

"Oh, it's fine, Shee-On," she waved her hand at me with a smirk. "This is proof enough. You can hand it in next class. It's not a problem."

"Do I get a penalty for the hard copy being late?" I asked, still feeling the poison dripping from my mouth.

"No, no penalty at all. Don't worry about it."

What? No penalty? No penalty at all? Was this real life?

"So..." My bones shook more than they did when I first walked into the room. "I start with full credit and I can just hand it in next class with no penalty? No penalty at all?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"O-Okay then. Th-Th-Thank you very much. I-I'll just go take a s-seat now."

"Are you okay? You look horrible; your skin's pale. Do you need to get some water?"

"No. I'm fine...just fine...super fine."

"O-Okay, Shee-On..."

I took my seat and readied a blank document on my laptop for taking notes. I was dead inside. I didn't know whether I should be happy, whether I should still be frightened, or if I should just kiss her wrinkled feet and deem her my savior. I didn't feel anything. I wasn't alive and I wasn't dead; I was just hollow.

That was way too close. I made a mental note from that day onward: never forget when a major essay is due ever again...and to thank God that I could tell a good lie when I have to...and for having a sweet old lady for a teacher. I knew it was all over and done with, but my heart still raced. I never wanted to cut it that close again. I knew I was never ever going to get that lucky a second time. Maybe it was a good idea to cut back on the late night gaming during the school week. Save it for the weekend.

"So I downloaded the thing from that SteamPunk service thing last night."

A student sat in front of me talked to a friend who was beside him. His voice was so baritone that I couldn't help but overhear his conversation while I set up the headings in my document.

"It was $30 bucks so why not?" he continued.

"That's a pretty good deal. Heck, I'd do it if I had the money," his friend replied.

That was odd. There was a sale on SteamPunk today? I wondered how much money was left on my PayBuddy student card. No! No! Focus on the lecture! I couldn't afford a bad grade in this class, or any bad grade in general. But there was a sale and I didn't know about it? I always know about sales!

"It's worth it," the first boy went on. "There's a monthly fee which sucks, but you get a lot of bang for your buck. I played a little of it last night and I was hooked. I skipped two classes this morning to play some more of it too. I'm, like, level 10 now.

"You freakin' nerd," the second boy sneered.

"I got a new computer so I've been dying to try a cool game at optimal settings. The World just so happened to fit the bill. Is it so bad that I'm having fun?"

"When you become an introvert because of it, then yeah I'd say it's bad. You know what they say about male shut ins. If you're a girl shut in, people reach out to you, but if you're a dude than you're basically screw-"

"Shut up and pay attention to the professor. Do your work," the first boy said, brushing off his friend with a grimace.

"You're the one who started talking to me!"

"I said shut up."

The World, huh? That name sounded familiar. I think I had heard of that name somewhere before. Maybe I spotted the name across a video game forum somewhere on the net, or maybe it was in some online article, I don't know. I typed the game's name into a search engine and a couple of articles popped up regarding it. Most of them were professional video game critic sites. I, of course, ignored the ones from IGM and mainly stuck to reviews made by the game's players across other sites. They were all pretty positive. I didn't really find anything overly negative about the game. The consensus was that it was fun, fresh, and that it was one of those games that can stand the test of time. An instant classic. That was kind of a bold statement, a little cocky if you asked me, but it did catch my attention.

The professor had her back turned as she wrote some info on the white board, so I figured this was as good of a time as any. I activated the handy SteamPunk application on my laptop. I found the game under the Special of the Day tab.

It was a fantasy styled action RPG. It was the first MMO to be released since Pluto's Kiss, that crazy computer incident or whatever a couple years back. There were several classes to choose from in this game, you could live another life in another world, there was a promise of an unforgettable experience...the usual things any MMO boasts. There was also a monthly fee and the base game was on sale for $3o. My desktop computer back at home met all the system requirements. It seemed like a good deal, minus the subscription, but there were a few more bits that put me off.

You needed a VR mounted display to play the thing, as well as the special controller. So that would run me a couple bucks more. With all these bells and whistles, I thought that was a lot of cheap plastic for just one game. Even so, the promise of Virtual Reality action sounded cool. It could be worth it...or it could be the worst game I ever played. $3o plus the headset, controller, and monthly fee. It could be a lot of fun, but why were they charging so much money? Was it actually worth investing in? I thought it was some kind of scam. There was no way I was gonna throw down what little money I had left for this.

Yet my cursor hovered over the Buy Now button.

What was it about SteamPunk sales that made me want to instantly buy everything? An MMO was a big deal. I ccouldn't exactly just jump right in with all this money business. Maybe there was a bundle deal at GameHalt for it. This was my last class of the day anyway, so I could make a quit trek over there and check it out. The store's website said that they had it in stock at the time, so it was worth a look-see. Window shopping's always free after all, I told myself. There was no harm in browsing around, right?

After class, I made that jaunt to the local game shop. Lo and behold, the game was on sale in a bundle pack. It was sitting right there on the front counter with shiny gilded letters engraved on the box art, as if beckoning to any poor soul that cast a glance at it. The pack was half off at $60. What really got me was that this was the special edition that had a steel book case, a special controller and VR headset that was decorated with symbols and Greek letters for some reason or another, a free one month subscription card inside the package, and the set was in "new" condition. It was cheaper to buy this pack than to buy all the items separately. I picked up the box (and boy, was it heavy) and just looked at it for ten whole minutes.

Was I really considering buying an MMO like this? Was this really a good idea? No, no it wasn't. I was out of my mind. I had enough games to suck the social life out of me. I didn't need another one.

I put it back down on the counter and decided that enough was enough.

"Total comes to $63.46," the cashier said as he put the heavy box in a fairly large bag.

I stood there with my credit card in my hand outstretched to the cashier; I stood there like an idiot contemplating the mistake I was making. He gripped the opposing side of the card and tugged, but I wouldn't release my hold on it. It was glued to my fingertips.

"Miss, you need to let go of the card," he said with a dull look in his eye.

"I know."

"Let go then."

"I can't."

"Don't you want the game though?"

"I guess."

"If you let go, awesome multiplayer action awaits you. I hear this game's really good. It's pretty hot."

I wished he stopped using those honey-laced words.

"I know..." I whined. My grip on my card starting to fade as he kept up the attacks.

"Just gotta let go and you'll get your brand new special edition Ah! There it is...that's nice...that's the stuff. Now I'll just swipe this."

Soon enough, my card came back to me and $63.46 just flew right out the window. Why? Just why?

"And here's your game. Have a good day and enjoy," the cashier smiled at me.

"You too," I grumbled.

I spend the entire walk home looking down at my purchase with bloodshot eyes. What had I done? I just blew $63 on a whim; I never do that. I never buy games that expensive.

"Kill me," I muttered.

I returned to my home fifteen minutes later. The small house of mine looked even smaller now, and much more empty that it had been before. Usually when I came home from school, Mom was already going out to work. This time, though, she wasn't here. She must have left early. There was a note on the kitchen table, where I'd find her sorting through her briefcases and purses before she'd leave. The note was really sloppy, probably because she was in a hurry, but I could still make it out. I was used to seeing chicken-scratched notes from her.

Shion,

I had to go into work early. Some people can't do their jobs right so I got to clean up after them. I left some money near the coffee maker in case you want to order out. I won't be back home until midnight. Just make sure you eat.

Also, your father's birthday is next week so don't forget. As much as I don't like you going over there, I guess you can say a quick hello since it's his birthday. I guess I should do the same to keep things civil. If you want to get him a gift, that's fine, but you use your own money. And don't waste your money on anything expensive. He doesn't need anything.

Call you later to check on you. Love you.

Mom.

She was going to be home later again, I saw. That wasn't a big a deal for me. I had a new game to try out and nothing was going to ruin my good time. Though...$63 was a lot to spend on a good time. Mom would hate me if she knew I spent that much on a game; she despised my dad whenever he brought home a game for me that cost that much.

My dad and I loved video games. Before my parents split up, Dad and I would play all the time. When he'd get home from work and I'd get home from school, we'd play for hours until Mom yelled at us to turn the console off. It was hard trying to see my dad when I got older, so we stopped playing together. My mom wouldn't talk to me for a whole day if she found out I spent the day with him. We'd get into fights about that frequently, but none of us would see each other's way. Mom and I were too stubborn to compromise. Most of the times, I'd lie and say I was hanging out with my friends when it was just to be with my dad at his apartment. I wonder if he still played at all in his free time. I gave him our old console to keep playing, but it's been gathering dust from the few times I've been over his place. I hoped he didn't give it up. That was our thing.

I heated up some bite-sized pizza rolls and ran up to my room with a sports drink in one hand and my GameHault bag in the other. I opened up the box, read the instructions for installation, popped the software DVD in, and I was set. The game installation was quick, but the software for the VR headset and controller took the most time. After that, I "read" the terms of service agreement, the rules of the game on the official message board, and started the grueling process of creating a character. This was the hardest part of any MMO or RPG. Forget the dungeon crawling, the boss fights, or the player versus player combat, it was all about making that character you'd be stuck with for the rest of the game.

I ran my eyes over the classes first.

"Twinblade...Long Arm...Heavy Blade...Blademaster...Wavemaster...Heavy Axe," I read each description as I tapped the controller against my chin. "I've played enough games with buster swords, broadswords, and such. Let's try a Twinblade; dual wielding is always fun."

Next was the character's face, body type, hair, clothes, tattoos, and such.

"Let's touch up the face a bit...make her thin but not too thin...give this gal a cool outfit...a good hairstyle that's not too girly or boyish...and-she-is-done!"

I thought I did a decent job with my character's clothes. She had an opened scarlet jacket that ended just above her mid-section; the sleeves stopped at the elbow. The center of the jacket, where the buttons were, were adorned with gilded embroidery, and a symbol of a dagger wrapped in thorns appeared on the back. I picked out a buttoned up black vest to have underneath the short jacket, with white stripes riding down the buttons. I also got crimson boots that stop at her shins, black gloves on both hands, and a very peculiar brown leather belt to put around her waist. The belt was a little too long for her, a slender 5'9 avatar, so the end of the belt hung from the back of her waist like a tail. The last bits of her ensemble were black biker shorts, two golden bangles around both wrists, and two sheaths at her sides for her weapons. Her facial features were the last thing I edited; I gave her short scarlet hair that was a tad spiky, giving her a tomboyish styled look.

I moved pretty fast through the menus after that. It wasn't too bad for me considering I hadn't played a game like that for years. Now what about a name? That was the toughest part for me for any game, personally.

"Hmm...I got daggers...and this belt that hangs off my avatar's waist is like a small tail."

I hovered the cursor over the virtual keyboard and punched in a name.

"How about...this?"

I moved to the bottom of the menu to confirm all of my work. There was no going back after I pressed the button. Everything looked okay to me; I guess this was it.

I pressed the button. The screen faded black. I was falling. Golden rings hovered around me in a Technicolor tunnel as I made my descent. In a few minutes, I'd be in The World for the very first time.

"Daggertail," I said to myself. "Sounds fitting somehow."