It’s six PM on a Friday night and Dean Parker is looking through a box he has been storing in his closet. At 22 years old with a girlfriend you would think he had better things to do. Unfortunately his girlfriend was off visiting her mother in Pima. It’s a good drive east of Tempe Arizona, where Dean’s apartment is located. That means Mary, Dean’s girlfriend, will be gone all weekend while he hangs out at home.

He thought about going to a bar and having a beer or two but it just seems weird to go alone. The few friends he used to go out with stopped inviting him after a few weeks when he always turned them down to hang out with Mary. Now they would hardly talk and didn’t answer the phone when he called earlier. They probably couldn’t hear their phones over the music of whatever place they were at.

So here Dean is, looking through a box of things from his childhood. When he moved out of home a few years ago he packed up his room and only needed a few boxes to carry everything he had. The rest of them had already been given away or trashed. This was the last one from his childhood.

Taking a seat on the couch in his one bedroom apartment he opens the box and peeks within. Inside there were a number of souvenirs from his past. A picture of his junior prom, beads from a new year’s party on Mill Ave, and others. Pushing things around in the box Dean tosses a few things in a trash can nearby but leaves others. Not able to part with some of the memories this box contains he knows it will probably end up sitting in the bottom of his closet again.

Almost done, he gets to the bottom of the box. As he pulls a gray plastic box from within memories flood his mind. Weekends from when he was in junior high playing video games all day. Summers sequestered in his room as he spent hours working toward the accomplishment of completion. One at time, always focused toward the gratification of victory. He remembers beating every game he had for the old gaming system.

Dean turns back to the box and pulls out the few games he had saved from his past. Setting it all aside he packs the box up, returning it to his closet. Back in his living room he goes about connecting the remnant of his past to the flat screen TV. With everything plugged in He pushes the old cartridge into the top of the machine until he hears a satisfying click. Hoping that it still functions he presses the power button.

The lights on the front twinkle to life and an electronic whirring sound emanates from the ancient device. “It works” gasps Dean. He didn’t really think it would after so long. What ensued was a night of retro gaming reminiscent of his past. He played for hours but eventually the feeling wore off and he was bored again. It wasn’t the old school graphics and the low resolution that was the problem though.

“It’s fun, but I’ve already finished the game before.” There just wasn’t the draw to finish and win the game like he remembered. Already late at night, and with little desire to continue, he powers down the consol. Turning off the TV and the lights he heads off to bed. Laying there as he drifts off he can’t help but relive the time he first received the video game consol as a Christmas gift. That and the feeling he got at finishing the first game he got for it.

The next morning Dean got up and did some cleaning, but his eyes kept going back to the gray plastic box next to his TV. He has newer games then the ones he found last night for the most recent consoles. There was just something about the old one that drew him in. When finished with the bathroom Dean leaves the apartment and goes to a nearby game store.

Browsing the aisles of new games he comes to a glass display case. This is where the old games are kept. Finding the ones that match his old consol he sees only four different titles. Two of them he has at home and completed years ago. Of the last two he hadn’t played before one was some kind of memory game. Never into that kind of thing he focuses on the last game cartridge.

Dean never heard of the game before but it sounds interesting. The title is Dark Ages: The Death of Magic. There is no box, so all he has to go off of is the small picture on the cartridge. It depicts a castle with lightning coming out of the clouds above. Making up his mind Dean looks around to wave down an employee of the little store.

A minute later the store employee walks over. “Hi. I’m Ron. What can I do for you?” The guy was obviously bored from his tone but he was paying attention, so there is that. Dean waves at the glass case in front of him. “I would like that game.” Looking to where dean is pointing Ron pulls a key out of his pocket and fishes the game from the case.

“There is an interesting history for that game. Have you ever played it before?” Dean is curious about what Ron is referring to. “No I haven’t. What is so interesting about that game?” Ron’s boredom seems to evaporate as the conversation becomes more engaging to him.

“It has never been beaten. Well, at least that is the rumor. Most of the game is like many from that time. An RPG with a top down view. Get some spells and a sword to kill things. Travel around and solve puzzles. That sort of thing. It was a few of the puzzles that really caused a lot of the rumors.”

Dean looks at Ron, his own interest bursting forth. “What could be the problem with the puzzles?” A big smile breaks out on Ron’s face. “That’s the thing. They were all weird pictures like the ones that were popular in the 90s. You know the ones you can stare at long enough and a dolphin or something appears?”

He pauses until Dean nods, indicating he remembers. “They were all like that. The pattern that appears always leads to the solution for the puzzle. No one has been able to see all the patterns though.” With that declaration he ends his lesson on classic game history. Dean can tell Ron was one of those people who tried to beat Dark Ages and failed from the enthusiasm and wonder in his voice.

What greater mystery than a game no one has finished? If Dean was being honest with himself he would admit to getting a little excited as well. Not that it mattered much. With his choices limited he thanks Ron for his help and takes the cartridge to the counter. Dean pays the five bucks for the old game and leaves for home.

Back in his apartment on a Saturday, Dean starts up his game and begins a marathon. He played through the day and into the night. After a few hours of sleep he went back to playing it again. He played his video game through Sunday and even when his girlfriend got back in town from her trip.

Over the next couple weeks He played nearly every free moment he had. When his girlfriend Mary came by he was preoccupied with Dark Ages, thinking about the latest puzzle he was working on. “What is up with you lately? You’re head is always somewhere else when we’re together. Are you seeing someone else?”

Mary’s accusation finally pulls him out of his thoughts. “No! Why would you think that?” They were having dinner at his place and he looks across the small dining table to her. A thundercloud seems to cross her face and she nearly yells at him. “Because you don’t listen! You never answer the phone and you are completely uninterested in me!”

Taken aback by her outburst Dean only sits there trying to come up with a decent excuse. Taking the silence as an admission of guilt, Mary stands up. She knocks the chair over with the speed of her movement. Mary is average height with light brown hair and soft yet slender features.

She is pretty and Dean only considers himself to be of middling attractiveness. He remembers how lucky he felt at her answer when she agreed to go out with him. That wasn’t long ago but he does like her. She was smart and always laughed at his dumb jokes, but now it was all falling apart.

“Wait! I’ve just been preoccupied with this old game I’m playing. It’s nothing, really.” This admission doesn’t seem to cool her anger any. If anything she looks insulted now too. She always had a temper but this was more than he had seen in the past. “A game? You’ve been blowing me off for a game?”

At Dean’s rather sheepish look she visibly calms a bit. That is almost scarier than the yelling though. “Fine. Play your game” she says. Venom is practically dripping from her mouth with the words. “This obviously isn’t working out. We’re through. Maybe call me when you are done with the damn game. I probably won’t answer though.”

With those parting words she spins away from him and walks out his door. Dean just watches her go, knowing that anything else he says may just make things worse. He finishes his food in silence and takes a seat on the couch. He doesn’t turn on the old consol, just sits there thinking. He liked Mary, but now that she was gone he really thought about their relationship.

What he felt for her absence was sadness, but not that much. More along what he would expect from a short time acquaintance that moved away. He would miss her. Maybe with time they could have had something more meaningful. At this moment though he just didn’t feel much of a loss.

Back to the game for another week before he feels like he is nearing the end. His little 2D character throws a couple fireballs across the screen to incinerate a group of skeletons. Dean is on the tenth floor of a castle that should hold the goal for the whole game. The throne of the kingdom should be in here and sitting on it should make him king, saving magic in the world. Or so the story in game went.

Crossing the cleared room with his character Dean reaches the door. When he uses the action button on his remote a pattern appears on the screen. Staring at it for a long time he doesn’t notice the passing of time and it gets dark outside. Eventually his eyes adjust and the pattern takes on a three dimensional image to his perception. What he sees looks a lot like a flower.

Having done this multiple times Dean presses the action button again to dismiss the image. Now to follow the pattern in the room. How to use the solution has been different for every puzzle. In one he had to follow the pattern through a series of doors leading him to the exit. If he didn’t follow correctly it always brought him back to the beginning.

Sometimes the pattern he saw indicated the order of switches to activate in the room. Later puzzles became much more difficult to see and the manner of execution less obvious. The last few he went through just required traversing the room in the pattern with no other guidelines.

Without the ability to just keep guessing until the correct answer was found Dean was not surprised that the game might never have been finished. He looked it up online one day and there were many theories. Some said that it was intentional, and that it would get harder until anyone would fail. Making it literally impossible. A variation of that said the pictures that came later on didn’t actually have an image in them. There were some crazy theories as well, but Dean never paid attention to those.

With the room he was in now he had to follow the pattern around and touch the walls where it had shown him. It took a couple tries with him going back to the door to refresh the image in his mind, but he finally got it right. Going through the door caused the screen to go blank for a moment.

What happens next startles Dean and he jerks upright as horns play a victory tune over his TV speakers. So focused was he that the sudden sound startles him. The image that appears is of his character sitting upon a throne and a crown of fire swirling above his head. The text that scrolls up from the bottom goes on about how he has saved magic and he can start a new magocracy. Blah blah blah.

Dean wasn’t really interested in that so much, just the thrill of victory coursing through him. He did it. He won. The end of the unbeatable game. Then, shortly after the elation comes a twinge of depression. The same kind of depression he always felt when finishing a book he was really into or a challenging game.

Yes he won and it was over, but also, it was over. Shrugging off the rollercoaster of emotion Dean is about to stand up and turn everything off, when a new puzzle picture appears on the screen. Not expecting anymore after the credits went by he was pleasantly surprised. Staring at the picture to get the pattern, as he always had before, something felt off.

It was almost like his brain was speeding up slightly and stuttering. As the image formed in front of him it also felt like it was displaying a message in his head. His head felt like it was heating up, a headache coming on for sure. The whole time he stared at the message displayed before him. Not understanding one bit.

SYSTEM DISCOVERED!

PRESS START

What the hell does that mean? In his mind it didn’t say ‘PRESS START” like it did on the TV. It just said “START,” or at least that is what he imagined. It was starting to get a little difficult to think with the increasing pressure on his thoughts. Finally just deciding to go with it he presses the start button on the controller.

When he does he gets a glimpse of the word START flashing in his mind as if it were a button his mind pushed. He thought it odd that the effect wasn’t on the TV but on the word he was imagining. Also, the flash of the word occurred a moment before he even hit the real button. As if responding to his thoughts. Why not? He was imagining it anyway.

Acclimating new user to the SYSTEM.

Please wait…

Please wait…

Please wait…

The TV screen went dark without further prompting but the text in his mind was scrolling. Telling him to wait. The headache he felt coming on was in full swing now. It quickly surpassed migraine status and rapidly approached apocalyptic brain aneurysm. Slowly Dean’s vision tunneled in and went completely black. Still conscious for a moment more he noticed the last bit of text before he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

WELCOME TO THE SYSTEM NEW USER!