The night was in its early phase when I got the email, my application had been accepted. Lights flashed from my monitor to the dark walls of my unlit room as my mindless gaming continued in the background, my focus absorbed by the screen of my phone.
“Welcome to the world of Convergence.” It read out.
I had been waiting for this email for weeks. Pulling up my direct messages on my second monitor I sent out a notice to my social group. This kind of event was something to brag about after all.
I logged out of the now meaningless feeling MMO that currently took up my screen. Mouse a near blur as I opened the long-ago-downloaded client launcher. The smooth gloss of the black box beside my desk bounced the light around the room as it opened with a satisfying -click-.
The VTU smoothly slid out of the padded interior and felt heavy in my hands as messages appeared on my screen.
“Awesome!”
“So jealous….”
“Congrats! You can join me, make sure you pick the closest server.”
The final message though, was nothing but a link to an underground news site. An article warning that the recent disappearances were caused by Convergence and the Dev team behind it. A flurry of responses and emotes followed, congratulating me, and mocking my friend who had posted the article in equal measure.
“I’m not trying to say I buy it, but be careful man.” Was their only attempt at defending themselves before a meme mocking the same idea was posted.
I closed the window, turning off notifications as the helmet in my hands felt cool to the touch. I had only used it a couple of times now, no one else had developed anything for the hardware, so the only option was a template level with no sense but sight.
Sense. That was what the VTU promised, a full sensory suit VR experience. No one had believed it would work, not during the first announcement at least. First hand experiences trumped all rational or logical doubts however. The device had no outward or inward signs that it contained such powers, just a matte black finish to stand in contrast with the box, and a slightly embossed lettering of ‘VTU’ across the back.
Connecting the device to my computer was a simple task, and soon the inside of the headset lit up with a soft blue glow. The chair I had bought specifically for this reclined with a smooth motion as my hand raised my holy grail onto my head. The normal messages played out on my monitor as it recognised the device was connected to the simulation program. My hand flashed out pressing the accept key, shaking slightly with anticipation as the cold sensation of my senses slipping away encompassed the whole room.
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I stood on the bus heading to work, my phone in my hand showing a group chat of my friends talking about Convergence. It had been three days since I had first logged on and began to play. It was still version 1.0, technically a beta, but it didn’t feel it.
We were trying to share information with one another. Despite the game having launched nearly four months before and having nearly a million current players; information about the game was still nearly impossible to find, even with the lightspeed information network we grew up with at our fingertips. The internet had nothing but cheap game articles listing the available races and classes at character creation and a basic explanation of the systems. Forums were the only place willing to share actual useful info, so that was what a few of my friends were diving into.
This dearth of solid information proved charming in its own way though, a natural form of gatekeeping, not to keep the weak out, but rather to force them to improve themselves.
The game itself proved to be a style that I enjoyed, bitter and hard, but rewarding for those higher gamers and men who wanted a challenge to overcome. Despite being the latest of my friends to get a key, I was catching up fast. The freeform method of play was easy for me to grasp and I was already brainstorming ideas of how to best defeat new foes and prepare for new adventures.
The day passed me by much the same way. Work was boring in light of this new goal, this new set of rules to learn. No-one I worked with played games, so as usual, I went about my business alone, the sounds of the warehouse and the physical labour blurring the minutes into hours.
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The character I had made was an ‘all-rounder’ type. I knew that games rewarded specialization, but the appeal of the systems were strong enough that I put that past me. A one handed sword and the other free to cast spells or use items meant that my damage output in other games would have been hampered, yet in this one, how you used the weapons was just as important as what you wielded.
The sensory experience promised was not as complete as I would have liked. The amazing technology allowed me to feel the world around my character certainly. Yet, something felt fake in a distinct way. The lack of resistance when pushing off the ground, or perhaps the lack of pain upon receiving a blow, maybe it was that there wasn’t a feeling of fatigue associated with casting spells or fighting for minutes at a time.
You may judge me as odd. Someone asking to feel pain and trauma. Yet I couldn’t help but believe that if you did, if everyone had to play in a more dangerous world, the fights would be that much more rewarding, and personal skill would raise that much faster.
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It was a cold wind as we stood together in the dank cave. Each of us armed to the figurative teeth; Namark, a friend of mine since I started MMOs in high school, he was our elected ‘tank’ his avatar cut an imposing figure a strongly built Wolf-Beastman was gesturing to the map we had bought, the broker I had dealt with promised us that it was accurate, and yet we had come to a crossroad that wasn’t shown. Weiren, who was claiming that it was a trap, was the only one of us playing a female avatar despite all of us being men, his elf was statuesque and had spent all of his perk points and gear on improving her magical ability. The final member of our weekend expedition was Yashuu, who prided himself on accurately fulfilling his roleplay, was a human samurai, having just hit level 20 (which made him the highest level amongst us) allowing him the new class.
Of course, being the only party member with stealth skills I was chosen to head out and scout. The light sword in my right hand trailed behind me as I crept along the path, discarding my torch and drinking a potion I made which would allow for a degree of sight in these pitch-black caves. My feet padded a soft tread as the tunnels began to pass me by, leading into a large room covered in mushrooms of all sizes, their colours leached away by the grayscale vision afforded me.
There were shapes in the grove, but I was unable to discern their nature. Were they some kind of fungal creature? Not able to tell, and unwilling to risk walking through their territory I returned to my team. The three of them cut a good figure, each one seeming strong and focused as they awaited my return.
A focus that none of us lost as I informed them of the waiting cave. With little in the way of discussion, our four-man team pressed ever onwards.
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It had been three weeks now. I felt constrained by my friends at this point, they had slowed their play. Citing that it was tiring focusing so hard on the game, taking breaks to play other things or to focus on non-combat activities. All except Yashuu (his real name was David) who had been progressing with me, following the rate I set. He hadn’t been online the last few days though, not answering his texts or even the calls I placed.
I tried to focus on the game, I had never needed friends to play with anyways. It wasn’t my fault that they wanted to take it easy. I supposed that even Yashuu wasn’t as into it as I was.
It was only a short while however, a few days really, until we got the news. David was gone. It seems he disappeared from his own apartment, like all of the internet rumours claimed was the case these days. We had known that it was happening, but this was the first time I had known someone who was directly affected.
Roughly fifteen thousand, that’s how many some sites estimated had gone missing in advance of standard crime rates. World wide, considering that the number seems small. Only slightly more than 1% of 1% of 1% of the current world population of 8.4 billion.
The one thing these vanishing people shared (according to the news sites) was the fact that they all played Convergence. When considering the total account list of approximately one million, 15,000 seemed like a much more significant statistic.
Not understanding, or even (I suspect) wanting to understand, I began to throw myself harder into my work. The game became a singular focus; Work, sleep, proper nutrition, all of it felt like a waste in the face of my confusion.
And like that, I began to seek more information in the game. The population of the game still felt busy despite all the rumours, but there was information to be found. I could hardly verify of course, a disappearance by definition left no trace behind. Still, I learned more quite quickly.
I had managed to tie myself to a few social groups involving high level players. The ‘no-lifers’, the ‘whales’. Whatever you called them, the people who played the most it turned out, had a very high turnover rate. Some people began to feel a kind of intense fatigue uncommon even in high maintenance MMOs. The rate of these disappearances too felt higher here.
Attaining info solely from anecdotal sources it seemed that everyone who had disappeared thus far was someone who played the game a great deal. People who had progressed far enough, had a worrying rate of falling prey to this phenomenon.
I’ll admit I was scared, and yet, strangely excited. Like the urge to walk into oncoming traffic, the curiosity you feel when holding a sharp knife or the desire to take a final step off of a high drop. I wanted to know, was I ‘good enough’?
Anyways, I couldn’t stop then. Not after coming so close to finding the truth.
“TO OUR STRONGEST DRIVE, THE TYRANT IN US, NOT ONLY OUR REASON, BUT ALSO OUR CONSCIENCE SUBMITS.”