Recycled wood covered the scene. Aluminium reinforcements held it together. Flurries of smart paint glowed and shifted around in all colors, synched to the loud, high octane music. A half sphere of uneven screens crowned the stage. To the left stood a desk for the casters. Sleek design. Polished white.

An elegant personality walked in. Oblique cut dress, animated motifs and the crystal+ immortal skin upgrade. Maxed out charisma in real life. Her cybernetic enhancements signaled wealth right now. They would be trivial in two or three years once the technology spread to the mainstream. The economy of their post AI world. Overpriced innovations hard crashed to overabundance as automation caught on.

“Welcome to the eleventh Continental Final. From the great marshes to the glass plateaus, from the inner valleys to the hook peninsula, the best players have converged here, today, to jack in and compete.”

Birds eye footage of the named landscapes filled the screen. Each biome had a turn on the main display, then moved to a side screen. The local arcades followed in an engaging montage. One after the other, they flashed in, zoomed to their owner, their local celebrities, and then the regulars. All framed by a mashup of concrete, glass and neon.

“Out of the many, one group will emerge. To victory. A flicker of glory torn out of reality, as the world turn slowly.”

On cue, the crowd exploded. Applauses and cheers. Signs encouraged favorites, displayed silly memes and clever puns. The player smiled when he spotted a cutout ogre punching his ear on the third row. He was getting some traction. His bet on the announcer would pay out for sure if he survived long enough.

“As per tradition, the competitors will be the first to experience the new content patch.” Another shouting session from the live crowd.

“Our resident expert, my colleague and my friend, world champion, tank extraordinaire,” the crowd exploded again, covering the player name. Not that it mattered, famous as she was, “will join us to cover the patch note and co-host the game.” More noise.

The celebrity walked in. Synthetic robe, electric blue. She had the look of a professional soldier, which she was in a way.

She took over, read the patch notes as they scrolled on the main screen. The developers coordinated their updates with major events to destabilize cookie cutter builds and fix the latest cheese tactics.

It was just the tip of their strategy to promote emergent gameplay. The procedural engine did most of the job. Randomized skill progression, map types and a slew of other values for each game. A unique experience every time.

“We have a new biome, the Mushroom Jungle, a place where colossal fungi reach for the sky over a peculiar landscape. Parasites, mutations, wicked mobs and strange loot await.” Another round of applause.

Her voice was deep, laser focused. The player thanked his lucky start that she only casted the game. He’d seen her replays. She would have been one deadly opponent.

“This new feature has been hinted for a while. Today, it’s finally here. Account bonded items.” The audience went wild. It took a good thirty seconds until the room calmed down. “Players will be offered three artifacts at character creation. These items will level alongside the players. They will grow through their own skill sphere.”

The player welcomed the feature, skill selection was his favorite part of the game. Now, he’d get to optimize his artifact’s build on top of his own. Sounded fun.

She continued, “similar to skins, this new artifact follows players from one game to the other or it can be traded on The Marketplace. To prevent abuse, the account bond will only activate if players reach level 25 before the end of the game or if they finish in the top ten.”

Amazing, a new source of revenue. He already made decent money by selling rare skins. Artifacts with an in-game effects would reach indecent prices.

“Their personalities will add a new layer of interactivity to the game, including an improved tutorial for new players.” She got murmurs this time.

Hopefully, the AI wouldn’t be too annoying. He played solo to be alone. No conflict. No drama. Only peace.

“Next are the balance changes. The game developers acknowledged the multiple complains about Maiming Blades. Their activation chance has been lowered by 20%.” She proceeded with a myriad of major and minor adjustments, earning more applauses and some heckling. The crowd didn’t appreciate the increased price point on potions, nor the decreased range on teleports. They would survive.

The first presenter continued. Gave a tour of the event’s organisation. The rigs for one hundred competitors, spread over four conference rooms. The in-game options to follow the match in real time. Spectators had to use their own rig to experience the time acceleration. The live audience would only get the best moments curated by an AI. The game lasted four hours, the players would experience twenty-four days of stretched time.

That technology alone had been a major disruptor in the real world. Compounded with true AI, the human journey had flipped around. Useless consciousness lost in a see of binary worlds. No need to work. No need to survive. Only awareness.

The assistant turned to the players and said, “Time’s up, please move to your designated rig and sync up.” Twenty-five players in this room, converted to held pods of VR stations. Thick cables covered the ceramic floor, bound together with bright yellow tape, they spread from the stations to obscure machines stacked in the back of the room. Smart paint on one wall acted as one giant screen. It played the public stream for the event, alternating between a bird's eye view of the amphitheatre, framed shots of the casters and videos from the scene’s main screen.

He proceeded to his assigned rig. Presentations started for the famous players. Camera drones flied around the room, tracking who ever the casters named.

He spotted the famous group, Art Delvers, two pods away. Somewhat old. They’d been at the top for a while. Relaxed, they greeted up their fellow competitors. A dark-haired woman, their famous rogue by the look of it, waved at him and winked. He half-waved back. He didn’t wink.

He was almost done with his rig when he heard his name. He switched his visor to translucid and looked at the screen wall. Saw himself fiddling with his rig, looking lost. His real-life name and in-game nickname hovered under him alongside two tags. One as a New Challenger, the other as a Solo player. He cleared his throat, raised his arms like contestants were supposed to do.

It seemed to work. Unknown fans in the crowd shouted Choo Choo, lost to ambient noise. His first taste of fame. Not sure how he felt about it. Wished he could care.

He sunk in the cushioned chair, adjusted his pants and booted up the game. The transition hit him, reality shapeshifted, his mouth tasted of metal.

He needed that one. Had promised too much money to his new caster. It would take months to recover from an early death. All in.