*Alexandra*

Our armor is ragged, held together with temporary patches more often than buckles and straps. The five remaining members of our party stand silent at an open door, dark and shadowed silhouettes walk from within the empty chamber. Their weapons chipped and drenched in blood and refuse. Upon seeing the party approach us, our tension collapses and our eyes turn hollow.

“AlexandraTheGreatest, I see you have actually made it all the way up to second place this time,” the silhouette in front addresses us with a self-confident swagger, riding high upon their victory, “GG girl, see you at the auditorium to witness my crowning moment?”

I respond in the only proper way I can possibly do so, “G. T. F. O. screw you, screw your party, screw your mom, screw this dungeon, screw this game, screw you, Screw You, SCREW YOU!”

The silhouettes reveal themselves as a fellow adventuring party, the Hound Dogs. Once again, they have beaten us to the boss room and secured a victory over us, again. “I mean seriously, what the hell? How did you get here so fast? We frickin blasted our way through the dungeon and yet you beat us here so fast you had time to kill the boss and then what, wait for us?!”

“Come on Alexandra, its all about that optimization. Optimization. Perfect balance of offence, defense, and logistics. With a plan fully designed to clear the dungeon in the most efficient way possible, with the most high yield route and in the shortest time possible.” The Hound Dog party leader, KillerBeagle, began rambling about his continuous refinements and plans and how his party is the most bestest and his gear is more betterer than anyone else’s for this very specific dungeon and these very specific mobs, and this very specific boss, and yadda yadda.

I roll my eyes and interrupt his continuous ramblings “Beagle, it sounds more like you optimized the fun out of yet another dungeon, just so you can get first place another year in a row.”

KillerBeagle sucks in a breath and puts on his most hurt face he possibly could, “my word, do you not know how enticing finding the absolute perfect strategy and then actually pulling it off can be? It is quite exhilarating.”

I look behind him to his party member DungeonSmasher69 who is glowing a sickly green while his cheek droops and small blobs of skin dribble off his jawbone, slowly exposing his teeth underneath. I grimace at the sight while most of my party, and theirs, do their best not to stare dumbstruck at him, while he shrugs his shoulders and flashes a sheepish grin. Which only results in a larger globule of cheek to detach and his jaw to unhinge and fall slack.

I look back at KillerBeagle, “Perfect strategy, executed perfectly?”

KillerBeagle chuckles, “that’s part of the fun, new information, reviewing what went wrong, what can be done better and thus making an even more perfect strategy. Besides, his status should timeout shortly, then a quick heal and he’s as good as new!”

I just stare at DungeonSmasher69 for a protracted moment of morbid fascination.

KillerBeagle sighs, “This game can be a bit, graphic, at times, and there are kids out there. Ragged and beat up avatars, sure, but a half-melted face? That might be a bit much for the more, disable the gore, crowd.”

“I only have one question Beagle, how, how the hell, did his face get half melted in a dungeon, specifically selected, because it did not have anything in it that would do such a thing?”

KillerBeagle reveals a massive shit eating grin, “two words Alexandra, Perfect, Strategy.”

“Huh”

About ten minutes later, DungeonSmasher69 is healed up and Hound Dogs leave through the dungeon exit. A large banner spreads out in front of our faces and the faces of the two other parties that despaired at the sight of the empty boss room on arrival.

‘Congratulations Hound Dogs for winning the 6th annual Shattered World Dungeon Run!’

With this message a logout timer pops up and thanks all players for participating.

I unhook myself from my VR harness in my party’s room and release a long sigh as I stretch my well-used muscles, still taught and screaming from the hours long intensity of fighting against the suspending resistive wires on the harness.

I look myself up and down in a mirror, as per morbid ritual every time I leave the gloriousness of Shattered World. Totally unlike my mesmerizing avatar, my skin is scarred from days in the sun and rough and tumble childhood in the woods. Dusty hair that can’t quite seem to decide if it wants to be blonde or brunette and eyes a dull brown, I sigh and gather myself for re-entering the real world.

I look around to see my party members going through similar motions, “come on guys, the awards ceremony will begin soon. Even without the grand prize we still get a month of free premium and a lot of loot.”

With a barrage of grunts and groans we leave our suite and see Hal sitting just outside our room with a crate of juices and several finger foods.

“Hey guys, I brought you some snacks . . . saw the results, every year you’re getting better, from fourth to second in a year, little at a time and . . .”

Adam, our tank picks up a pack of mini donuts and a juice as he interrupts Civ, “not now Civ, let us wallow, cheer us up later.”

Civ looks down and sighs, “sorry guys, if Dani were able to make it instead of me you would have been able to crush Hound Dogs.”

I plop down on the other side of the crate and start rummaging through the consolation prizes Hal scrounged up, “Civ, shut up. You make a fine support, yes, your playstyle as a, what do you call it, tactical support, Sucks when we need an armorer, or an of the other actual classes in the game, but you are a hell of a lot more fun to play with than any of those, all about winning types. No fun, no sense of adventure or discovery, all about optimization and perfect run this, perfect run that. Sometimes it is more fun to just fuck around and troll the AI, and you are amazing at that.”

*Harold*

“You are trash at competitions though,” Alex smiled at me with a mouth full of pastry and chocolate covered teeth. Of course, Adam had to get his share in as well, “Oh yay, king of choking and falling short, never quite got the hang of the follow through have yay Civ?”

Alex hits Adam in the shoulder with a thrown donut, “says mister, ‘trust me guys, this is a shortcut.’”

As Adam wipes off the powder from his shoulder he exasperates, “it was a shortcut, we saved a good ten minutes, not my fault that our weapons couldn’t hold up to the influx of monster . . . oh uh.”

Adam looks at me sheepishly as he trails off, I sigh, do I really appear that sensitive? “Come on guys don’t waist food, I actually had to pay for some of this you know?”

Lora, our ranger, looks at the food and then to me, “isn’t the food complimentary?”

I point to the crate, “the ‘reusable, extra strength, collapsible, deluxe, Shattered World official reinforced cloth carry tote, with extra comfort handles’ was seven fifty.”

Alex just stares at the crate, “it’s a fabric box, seven fifty?”

Adam rolls his eyes and sighs, “it’s a convention Alex, I am actually surprised it didn’t cost more.”

I deadpan and over emphasize, “It did, I got a discount for being a competitor, wouldn’t have bought it, but they didn’t have anything else to carry the snacks in. All that go green stuff means no plastic bags to carry the crap you buy. Yet, we aren’t allowed to bring in any of our own bags, what if someone is hiding contraband, or heaven forbit a four-inch pocketknife!”

After our exchange we leave the competitors area and return to the main venue. Large kiosks, thousands of people, and bright colorful lights clutter the expo, in an organized haphazard chaos. The Shattered World Convention floor is flourishing with the central display screen showing off the Hound Dogs party’s avatars as they exuberantly show off their skills and fluff cosmetics. Lots of theatrics and shiny bits and pieces with none of the gear or skills that they actually used during the dungeon run competition. I can’t blame them though, despite the fact that they have won every race for the last three years, I have played with them enough, to know they pour in their everything for these amateur league competitions.

Alex breaks me out of my thoughts, “It really is too bad that Dani couldn’t make it, she has been looking forward to this for months, and it wouldn’t hurt to have her IDR discount as well.”

I look over to her, “After getting offed, I was talking to some of the other teams, and it seems like a lot more than just Dani’s unit was called back to their unit. Some kind of large-scale standby drill or something. Not sure exactly what’s going on but over half the teams lost players to IDR duty.”

Adam is still looking at the central display, “let me guess, Hound Dogs doesn’t have any members in the IDR?”

I take a moment to think, “actually, I think three of their members are, I don’t see Chowzer, Hemro or Beat up there with them.”

John, our healer, comments as well, “It’s not just them, I got some friends overseas that I play with sometimes, they were apologizing about not being able to see me compete this year because they were getting called in as well.”

That seems weird, “Don’t tell me every IDR unit all over the world is getting called up for some kind of drill?”

John shrugs his shoulders, “maybe not the whole world, but at least most of it. Maybe some kind of weird computer clerical error? I head the IDR uses some kind of advanced computer shit to communicate and control all their units.”

Adam chuckles, “advanced computer system? Dani told me they use ham radios and telegraphs for half their shit.”

I nod, “I heard about that too, something about the reliability and not going down even if there were some crazy emergency, like a larege scale blackout or power serge or something? There was even some stuff about it being able to work after an EMP.”

Lora’s eyes widen a little bit, “like in a nuclear blast?”

I nod again, “yup, but I think their reasoning was more along the lines of something like a solar flare or reactor meltdown or something, but nukes too. No telling how many unstable people with nukes are actually out there.”

I notice Alex just staring at the screen, “they lost three members while we lost only one, and they still beat us?”

Lora chirps in, “I think Beagle is trying to go pro, was talking to him a while back and he said that he was looking into it.”

Mike, our auxiliary DPS, shook his head, “don’t think I could do pro, too much pressure, what about you Alex, you ever think about going pro? You’re easily the best player I know, way better than Beagle even, individually at least.”

I give a short sharp laugh, “no way she is going pro, Alex likes Shattered World far too much for that.”

Alex nods, “ya, I hear most pro players grow to hate the games they compete in, no way I would risk coming to hate Shattered World, it is just to much fun to hate, amateur league is plenty for me.”

The six of us make our way through the venue toward the main conference room where the awards ceremony will be held in half an hour. Just before arriving Alex stops us, “whoa, hold up guys, they are showing the Shattered World game of the year interview!”

We stop and look over to the booth Alex is rushing too. Inside several TVs are showing various interviews and reviews of Shattered World. The one she stops in front of is showing one of the first exclusive interviews done by the creator of Shattered World, TimeTraveler, after the game had won its second game of the year award.

*Dae-Ho*

As I ran up to the booth my favorite interview was just beginning. Although it is almost six years old now, it still shows just how amazing TimeTraveler is, especially since it came out before all those stupid controversies and shit that hold no real water or proof started circulating.

“Today we have TimeTraveler here with us. He is both the mind and wallet behind the flagship title of his newest Virtual Reality consul Shattered World!” The host motions and welcomes TimeTraveler onstage.

TimeTraveler walks over and sits down across from the host, “it is good to be here, I have always enjoyed this show, used to watch it a lot when I was younger. Wish I still had the time to do so now. Even now I am here mostly fueled by nostalgia for the show, always hoped to be in the crowd one day. Never even dreamed that when I finally got here, I would be sitting in this chair instead.”

The host places a large smile across his face, “well, it is an honor that you found time to join us for this exclusive interview. Its not every day we get to talk to the youngest self-made millionaire in the world, and from what I hear in the rumor mill that title is about to change to billionaire.”

TimeTraveler responds with a smile, “What can I say? I’ve got the golden touch, I don’t quite get it myself, but apparently I have the devil’s own luck when it comes to business ventures.”

Settling into the swing of things, the host continues on, “well, lets talk about why you’re here today. Your VR Game has just won its second game of the year award for its newest expansion. So, while we have you, what inspired you to make such a game?”

Settling into his chair TimeTraveler begins his story, “well, when I was younger, I loved playing videogames, especially the RPG dungeon crawlers. The exploration, and the discovery, oh the adventure. It was like living another life, one so much more exciting and grander than our own could ever be. Yet as I got older and played more and more games, something began to happen. When a new game came out, I would be so very excited and expectant. By this time, I had already done fairly well for myself, and I would order the best and highest version of the game that I could. When it finally arrived, I would plop it in and feel like a kid again. I would play for hours getting lost in the world. Or that is what I wanted to occur. Instead, I would consistently be disappointed. Oh, there were a few that lived up to what I hoped for, at least for a little while. Yet eventually those too tapered off and just no longer scratch that itch. I was starting to lose hope in the modern video games. At one point I thought that maybe I was just growing out of video games, but even then, I would see one advertised and teased, and my inner child would squeal with delight. It was around then that I had an epiphany.”

The host leaned in, “oh, and what would that have been?”

TimeTraveler just leaned back with a smirk, “that I was rich.”

The host just looked back slightly confused. TimeTraveler seemed satisfied with the reaction and continued on, “I had realized that I didn’t need to wait for some nebulous game of the future to come out that would scratch that itch in me. I was rich enough to just make it myself. So I decided to sit down and come up with the game I had always wanted to play. My dream video game. Then, I went shopping for developers. When none of them could deliver, I just made one myself. Little scouting here, little negotiating there, and I had the greatest game developers in the world under my roof. Together we started on Shattered World, I had the vision, they had the expertise, together we made the ultimate videogame.”

The host nodded slightly and then asked another question, “It sounds like you had Shattered World planned out before you even started making it, or did it change at all during its development process?”

TimeTraveler’s smile drew into a line as the thought, “I knew exactly what Shattered World was always going to be. Yet, my developers did finally convince me that it would not be possible to release the whole thing all at once. They could get working chunks at a time, make it playable, but they were yet to be able to incorporate everything. And, well, if they couldn’t do it, no one could. So, I compromised with them, and we decided on working with the DLCs when they became able to incorporate the new functionality.”

TimeTraveler looked up, remembering something, “although, I sometimes tend to forget, there was one major change to my game, that changed it from not just being the best game ever but to being a masterpiece in its own right.”

The host intertwines his fingers and probes, “and what would that be?”

The smile returning to TimeTravelers face, “making it VR. Originally, Shattered World was supposed to be just a cross platform game between consul, pc and mobile. Then I was invited over to one of my fellow videogame enthusiasts, to experience this hologram pod thing they had set up. It wasn’t much really, essentially a closet with monitors covering the walls, ceiling and floor, and a large clear sphere in the middle. You could walk around in the sphere and the monitors would change the scenery in kind. Adding in some trinkets, you could experience a large variety of realistic scenarios. It wasn’t much, but I saw the potential and rushed back to my studio to include the VR functionality.”

At this point the host asked, “is this where your VR Harness came into being?”

TimeTraveler looked at him, “not exactly, my developers heeded my request and worked in the VR cross play, as buggy as it was, and I jumped in like a kid with a new toy. I was sorely disappointed in the result. When I asked the developers what happened, they used the excuse that the technology just didn’t exist for what I was wanting to do. So, I just dumped a bunch of money into R&D and told them, if they didn’t have the tech, just make it. And, well, they did, and my VR Harness was born.”

The host nodded and asked his question, “as we are running out of time this will be our last question, and easily the one that most people are curious about. You spent almost a billion dollars over the years developing Shattered World, then you just released it completely for free on all platforms with next to no monetization. Why?”

TimeTraveler nodded, “that is an easy one. I wanted as many people to play with me as possible, games are more fun when more people play together after all. The way I figured it, some people spend a billion dollars on yachts and cars that only a few can enjoy, I have no real interest in yachts or cars, so I spent mine on a really awesome videogame that billions of people can enjoy. Really, the only reason there is monetization at all, is just to pay the power bills for the various servers sustaining my masterpiece.”

*Harold*

“And with that we will be back after these messages with . . .” the host continued as Alex turned around.

She had a bright smile on her face and exasperated, “isn’t TimeTraveler just awesome? He just decides to make the best game in the world, actually does it, and then makes is free for everyone?!”

Adam had a wry smile on his face, “awesome? His game? Yes, his game is awesome, him?”

Alex rolled her eyes, “not only did he make the best game in the world, he also made the cutting edge in VR hardware and he even was the primary influence in founding the IDR. You know, the International Disaster Response group? The one that has saved arguably millions of lives?”

Adam didn’t back down, “you mean army? Not group. The IDR is an armed military force. For all their excuses for having weapons, they are armed enough to take down armies, and they don’t let anyone forget that. And just like you said, TimeTraveler has a massive influence on the IDR, while also being the largest proponent of them carrying weapons. Hell, during the last conference he advocated for them to become even more armed, he wanted to give them artillery Alex. Artillery, weapons of war, not defense, war.”

Alex put her hander on her hips, she was digging in, “Those are for forest fires Adam, that was made very clear. Artilery batteries as a means to deliver fire retardant accurately and from a safe distance.”

Adam wasn’t giving up either, “then why were there HE rounds included in the proposal? HE rounds, High Explosive HE artillery rounds.”

Alex rolled her eyes, “to take out the oxygen in the air to snuff oil and chemical fires, where normal retardant would not be effective. He wants to help the world, make it a safer place.”

It was Johns turn this time, “I’m all for the IDR and what they stand for, despite the controversies surrounding their jurisdiction rights and what kind of influence they have grown to have, they do good work. It is true that a lot of people have been saved by them directly, even more indirectly through their interventions on infrastructure rebuilding projects, but TimeTraveler? I don’t know. He has done good yes, but he also has more legal suites against him than any other person on the planet.”

Lora decides to give her piece, “just because someone is being sued over something doesn’t mean they are automatically guilty.”

John responds, “true, but with that many, and that wide of a range? He has suits against him for infringement, copyrights, technology theft, monopolies, embezzlement, insider trading, hell there are even businesses claiming he essentially bullied them out of business. The only thing he isn’t being sued on is sexual harassment.”

Alex comes to Lora’s aid, “most of the people suing him are these one percenters that lost their control over the economy and government due to his intervention and people who have no solid or even tangible evidence to back up their claims.”

This is getting a little heated for my taste, “guys calm down. We only have about five minutes until the award ceremony begins. I know we don’t have to go since we didn’t win but Alex, didn’t Beagle ask you to come? You know how much it means to them to win, especially if Lora is right and he is trying to go pro. I hear there might actually be some recruiters at the venue this year.”

Mike backs me up, “Yay, we are all friends despite how annoying he can be, and this could be his big break. Do you really want to miss the awards ceremony over a stupid argument?”

Adam relents, “I suppose we should go congratulate him, besides who would want to miss his gloating like a buffoon and making a monkey of himself?”

Alex grumbles, “and they’re giving away the consolation prizes to any competitors who show up for the awards ceremony as well.”

Still a little heated, we make our way the final bit to the auditorium, where the awards ceremony is being held. As we enter the ceremony is just beginning, we lower our heads, Alex and Adam a little lower in shame about making us late. We find some seats in the back and settle in.

The ceremony itself turned out to be fairly normal, welcoming everyone, thanking the participants, and popping up a QR code on their big screen up front for the consolation prizes. At this, Alex became lively again and seemed to ignore the world as she scrolled through her new loot.

As the main event drew near and Hound Dogs entered the stage the lights suddenly went out.

Murmers started to spread about a power outage when Alex spoke up, “hey!? My phone just went off! What the hell?”

That’s weird, she never lets her battery run lower than twenty percent. She even had it fully charged while we were driving over here this morning. I take out my phone and look at it as well. Off. I press the power button, and nothing happens. Power outages don’t do this. I try to see what time it is with my watch but its too dark to see and the light button doesn’t do anything. Worrying.

Lora’s voice shakes, “emp? Did someone j-just . . .”

I grab where she is and am fairly sure I grab her arm, “calm down, my watch isn’t working either, emp’s aren’t powerful enough to stop simple electronics as well, just the more complex ones like the power and our phones,” I hope.

As our eyes adjust to the dark, we begin to notice a slight colorful glow coming from the windows along the top of the auditorium.

The announcer begins giving directions, “everyone please calm down, there seems to be a large

Blackout across the city. Everyone please remain calm and slowly and calmly make your way outside and into the parking lot. Law enforcement and fire department will be here shortly to give further guidance.”

Why are they having us leave the building? I look up to the light coming from outside and my curiosity flares. Right, weird colored sky, people are going to leave even if you tell them to stay. Better to organize the leaving than to have a panicking rush on their hands.

*Alexandra*

Eventually we all make it outside after enough stumbles and falls to be embarrassing to admit too. The sky was a river of color. Like the northern lights I had seen in pictures but deeper bigger and far, far more beautiful. When I first stepped out, I froze. This was not a scene from this dreary world. Our world was to dull, to drab to have such vibrancy. Lost in my incredulity I was eventually pushed lightly by Hal, “Alex, you, uh, alright? You’re, just, um, standing, in the, uh, doorway.”

I glanced behind me as people bump into Hal on their way out, then I look to him. He is not much better than me, standing not far off from behind me he just stares at the sky. The light flows over him with all its colorful splendor, almost like a waterfall of hues. His normally dark hair is draped in a silvery glow, while his deep blue eyes pierce through a stream of red to appear purple. His lightly colored skin seems to reflect the light as it trickles down his arms.

With another light shove I am forced forward. I regain more of my senses and look around. Crowds of people are all looking to the skies at the wander above. The mob of people near the front of the venue is growing more and more compact as people leave only to stand and stare at the skies. I look back again to see Hal still lightly pushing me with his shoulder while dragging Mike and Lora behind him. Adam is to his side while John pushes him alongside us. I look back forward and see we are heading toward where we parked our cars. It is still quite a ways to go.

The light is cascading down the windowed surfaces of the skyscrapers and pooling along the cement bellow before slowly drowning in the black asphalt streets. Once clear from the crowd and about halfway to our cars Hal stops pushing me forward. I take a step forward to continue on, when he grabs my hand and holds me back. I look to the cars and then to him, “um, aren’t we going to the cars?”

He shakes his head while only half looking anywhere but the sky. There is more than just wonder in his eyes, “they won’t work.”

The cars won’t work? I turn to see John looking around, the same worry in his eyes, “this is the effect of a solar flare. A big one, the only thing it could be.”

A solar flare? Clarity is starting to return to my mind. My phone won’t turn on. The power is out across the city. No electronics are working. The sky is brain meltingly beautiful. We are stranded in the middle of a city that just turned off. Surrounded by a mob of people that hasn’t realized what has just happened.

My eyes widen, “what, what do we do? There’s going to be a panic.”

Civ looks to me, “that’s what we are trying to figure out, nothing digital will work. Maybe analogue stuff will? What was it that Dani was telling us before?”

John grabs his forehead trying to remember over the attention demanding ocean of color raining down upon us, “The IDR uses ham radios and telegrams, their trucks have auxiliary systems to run after an emp . . .”

I grab his shoulder, “what do we do now though? Right here, right now?”

Civ turns to look past the parking lot to the street, “um, if the IDR trucks will still work, then we need to get to a place where they can access us better. This parking lot is crowded and likely to riot when people find out their cars wont work and they are stranded. If we can get out to an easier place to access, we should be evacuated in one of the first groups.”

John looks at Civ, “evacuated?”

Civ nods, “the water won’t work, the gas won’t work, we can’t use the skyscrapers because the elevators won’t work, the cities are a disaster zone. The IDR evacuates disaster zones.”

I look around me, at all the people, at the skyscrapers, at the city, at millions of people, “where, where would they evacuate us too?”

I first look to Hal and then to John who responds with a shake of his head, “I don’t know.”

Civ grabs me and John by the shoulder, “first things first, a more accessible place.”

While Hal drags Mike, John takes Adam and I oversee Lora, the three of us take dumb, dumber, and dumbest along with us to the main road connecting to the expo. There are still a lot of people there but John points to an onramp. As we make our way toward the onramp our three companions mostly come out of their stupors, and we debrief them on what we are doing and what our plan is so far.

Upon reaching the onramp entrance we hear a cracking sound. We stop and listen but can’t hear the origin. I look around, scared it may be falling glass or god forbid a pile up causing the overpass above us to collapse. We have seen plenty of fender benders on our way here, but the cars up there were going much, much faster.

Lora is stock frozen still, pointing at just above us on the onramp. I look at where she is pointing and see, lines, in the colors. The light, it is reflecting off of, something, in the air.

“Guys,” I look to mike who spoke out, and he is looking at the same phenomenon.

Adam slowly approaches the, lines, “What is . . .”

John reaches out for Adam but he is already to far, “Adam don’t . . .”

The, lines, shatter with a screech. We all drop our heads and cover our ears. Several seconds later when we finally recover enough to look and see what happened, there is a, creature, standing where the lines had been.

The thing is relatively small, slightly colored, although hard to tell what with all the reflecting hues around us. It looks relatively familiar though. Like I have seen it a thousand times. Like a goblin, yes like a goblin. Not the small green kind, but the ash grey pricks from Shattered World. Why is there a goblin there? What is it doing . . .

“KyaaAAAaAaA!!!!” Is that Lora?! What is she screaming about?!

I look at Lora and see horror in her eyes as she looks back at the goblin with its hand piercing through Adam’s gut, spilling deep red blood on the ground. It pulls its claws back and with them come Adams light pink intestines with crisscrossing bright red blood vessels. The cascading light seems to only accentuate the drops of blood and bile dripping from the rough tears in his intestines, intestines, in, tes, tin, es. My eyes grow wide, taking in more of the grotesque scene. I, we scream.