Grabbing for the next fifty pound pack of shingles I fought the urge to check my phone again as it continued to buzz. Focusing on the job again for the moment I started up the ladder. I could feel my knees and back protesting now at the end of the day as I ascended each rung. Stepping on to the roof carefully I hauled my package the last few feet, baking as the sun radiated eat from the black underlining. Free of my burden I started back down to do it all over again. Roofing was supposed to be a temporary gig, but as work had dried up all over the country it became my life. Day in and day out, as my body fought to keep together through the whole mess. Only to go home at the end of the day to my tiny one bedroom apartment up six flights of stairs. I had one outlet though, gaming. Every night after I’d scrubbed the tar and dirt off myself I could jack in to the virtual world and become someone else. Luke Castille manual laborer became Gideon Stonefist battle cleric, where all my aches and pains could be healed with a quick chant, I could run and jump without worrying about my bad knee, and I didn’t have to haul heavy things just to get by. Hauling another pack of shingles over my shoulder I started the process over again, just ten more painful back breaking trips and I was free for the night.

Turning the key to my place I stepped into my apartment hoping for once the overworked AC in the window had managed to keep it something under sweltering. Sadly it had not, luckily at least with how bad I smelled the off putting mix of cooking smells rising up through the vents was overpowered. Stripping off my clothes I left a trail to the shower, cranking it on as I finally checked my battered phone that had been going off all day. Flipping through my messages to see what the hubbub was about I nearly decided then and there to skip my shower and go log in right now. Debating it for a moment I finally gave in to the temptation of the pouring water, besides my bed slash couch couldn't withstand anymore stains before it was considered a whole new fabric design.

Pulling on a thin cotton shirt and a pair of basketball shorts I made my way into the living room, or just room. Dining room, living room, hell on good days it was even a fine sitting room to receive guests... as long as you loosely defined words like fine and sitting room. Flopping down on the pull out couch that dominated the space I reached over for my headset ignoring the protesting screams of the springs under me. Pulling it on I laid myself out, booting up the launch sequence as I was ready to put the day behind me.

Racing up the large flagstone steps I pressed my hand to the ornate double doors of the guild hall, waiting a brief second as the game read my passcodes and unlocked them for me. With a light press the doors split apart admitting me to the dim empty hallways of the Smoking Elk adventuring guild. Slowing my pace I listened to the echo of my boots and plate armor through the empty rooms as I headed to the single door at the end.

We used to be one of the top guilds in SoE, the world’s largest full immersion virtual reality game Shards of Emular, and I was a guild leader with an army behind me. These days though we’re just eighteen longtime friends with an oversized and unused guild hall, and I’m happy to be just part of the rank and file.

Reaching the end of the empty hall I grabbed the ring handle of the last door, pulling it open as warm light and a cacophony of sound washed out from inside. Slipping in through the half open door I took in the scene unraveling before me.

The former grand dining hall was now a mish mash of everything piled together in something that could only be described as organized chaos. Crafting work stations, armory racks full of equipment and trophies mounted on the wall all mixed with overstuffed chairs and piles of tomes. Right now most of those chairs were pulled into a loose ring and each filled with the excited face of a guildie anxiously waiting for our meeting.

Grabbing a high backed chair I tossed it onto my shoulder, carrying it to the circle and claiming my own small section of the madness.

“Giddy! You finally made it!” A rather cheerful voice shouted from across the circle

I involuntarily winced at the nickname bestowed on me by our blue skinned demon summoner Cerulean “Hey Cer, sorry I’m late everyone. We’ve got extra hours on the table and I’ve been trying to pick up as much as possible while I can. When are we getting this started?”

Jumping as I felt a hand on my shoulder “Well we were just waiting on your slow butt, so I guess we’re getting started now.” Came the soothing voice of Helena our current guild leader.

Helena had taken the mantel after I had stepped down, right about the time we went from top of heap to completely forgettable. Nearly two years ago I made a decision that started a chain reaction leading us to this point. One of our former members a Paladin by the name of the Boomer had become one of the premiere streamers of SoE, his popularity had been a huge reason to our success in the early days. Members and offers had flooded in as he streamed our raid attempts and PvP action. But you know what they say, all good things have to come to an end, and for once it held true. Accusations started to arise, that our celebrity guildie was abusing his position and popularity to proposition and solicit things from various female members of our guild and his fan base. About the time that they started to come out his stream editor came forward to corroborate them. Sadly we had no evidence that would allow us to put a stop to it, so I did the next best thing I could. Bribing, threatening, and begging every other major faction in the game I built a growing black list on the man, finally banning him from the guild proper and releasing a statement on his actions. Sadly fan bases don’t care about facts, members who joined because of him left in droves abusing permissions and emptying our coffers. More followed suit as daily harassment and griefing became the norm for us. In a last desperate measure to staunching the bleeding I stepped down as guild leader and Helena took charge holding the last of us together on sheer will alone.

Now two years later we finally had something to be excited about again, our whistle blower and Boomer’s former editor Alex had snagged the Smoking Elk a single invite to the yearlong launch event and deep immersion testing for Bastion Inc’s newest release. A grand undertaking called Tenacity Online, where select participants would spend a year living in game and streaming their adventures to the public at large. T.O. was said to be the most realistic and hardcore game to date, so much so the creators had released a statement that they would not be placing any pain dampeners into their game. It’d gone over gang busters, everyone was tired of the over fabricated FIVR games that had become common place over the last thirty years. I’m no exception, and today we’re deciding just who goes.

Helena started the meeting, her voice firm and captivating “Alright everyone, we all agreed that we’re going for this. Now it’s time to decide who to send. We’re all gamers here and it’s our nature to be amped to be the first, but this is a whole year of your real life gone. That means job, apartments, and so much more go out the door just so you can put your every action up on a screen for millions of viewers. Alex has already agreed to take on the job of editing and running the stream, and I’ll be providing a room for him and when whoever we decide when they get out after the year. I’m sure everyone else will come together to offer support where they can. Now raise your hand if you’re volunteering.”

I raised my hand, without a moment’s hesitation. As much as I hate to admit it to myself or anyone I needed this, years of a dead end labor job and endless online harassment had taken a toll on me. I lived to game, and most importantly to game with my friends and even that had been stripped down the past few years. I don’t think anything could get between me and a chance to recapture what we had, not just for myself but for the seventeen other people who’d come together. We’d all suffered in different ways, and in the end it’s because I made a decision that affected everyone.

“Alright, that’s two. Anyone else?” She asked looking around the room for a moment.

Two? I searched the circle for the other volunteer and felt my stomach drop when I saw it. A diminutive mustached gnome with his hand raised firmly over his head, Zancress. Zan was our resident badass, a former recon marine and real life survival list. He reveled in braving the wild lands of the game solo, and ambushing other players on the road, fighting without the built in tool assistance that allowed the rest of us to fulfill our stereotypical fantasy roles. In a hardcore game like Tenacity Online, I doubt any of us could compete with him and everyone else knows it just as well as I do.