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“Games were not just a diversion, I realized. Games could make you feel.”

— Sid Meier

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“Boom! Eat that, you one trick loser!” I cheered as my character’s burst combo blew up the opponent who’d been harassing me all game. “Guess you didn’t expect my power spike, huh?”

“Nice one, Rex!” Chris, my duo partner, called through the mic. “Show ‘em how we do it!”

With a tap on one of my keyboard’s extra function keys, my macro was triggered, commanding my character. Damien, the Demon of Darkest Inferno, threw up two single finger salutes. “Bring me a bucket, and I’ll show you a bucket!” he growled, deep voice shaking the earth around him.

“You still using that taunt?” Chris sighed. “Aren’t you tired of it? It’s not even funny!”

I chuckled. “It’s a classic! Gotta stick with the classics!”

The two of us began to blaze a trail across the map, our team joining only moments later. Ignoring the tempting mini-bosses in play, we focused on pushing the enemies back, crushing their defenses, and destroying their structures.

One of their supports made a risky decision, diving into our cluster to get off a group stun, but Chris saw it coming, silencing the poor sap’s ability before it ever had a chance to charge. We five collapsed on him, and the rest of our foes trickled in, each dying alone as they desperately tried to pull some value out of their teammate’s sacrifice. The wrong decision— every time.

In minutes, our opponent’s were completely destroyed, and we took their base, blowing it to smithereens. Just before the end screen appeared, and “Victory!” was displayed, I positioned myself strategically and had Damien do another taunt: the Milk Dance.

The camera zoomed right in on him. Every player got to see. I heard Chris’s disappointed sigh as the game ended. Trumpets blared. I alt-f4’d to the post-game.

My profile’s progression filled my monitor. With the sound of a resounding gong, my rank increased. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“That game was my last promotional,” I told Chris giddily. “I just reached Malachite rank.”

“No way! Congrats! Backpacked to the top five percent! Welcome, newbie!”

Chris was already Malachite, of course. He claimed to be carrying me up to his level, and I let him have the bragging rights because he was the best duo partner I’d ever had. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t defend myself when he razzed me.

“Yeah, thanks!” I shot back. “Now we’ve just got to get your winrate up to my level, and maybe I’ll carry you in the seventeen other games I’m better in!”

“Ah, your winrate is only that high here because I carried you!” Chris retorted sourly.

I was going to fire off another brotherly insult, but my attention was captured by a glowing golden banner filling the top of the post-game screen. A bespectacled old man with glowing eyes and a long white beard held a hand out to me, beckoning.

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR PROMOTION, GET_REXT! AS A REWARD FOR YOUR EVIDENT SKILL, JOIN THE RANKS OF PLAYERS WITH EXCLUSIVE ACCESS TO THE DOMAIN OF THE DRAGONS: ELYTHERIA!!!

“Since when did Mob put ads in their games?” I wondered aloud as my mouse crept closer to the animated advertisement. I was tempted to click on it. Dragons? Yes. Exclusive access? Oh, this was just too good.

But I paused. Too good was usually just that— too good to be true, right? And if I’d learned anything over the years, games that needed to fill banners with… wait, a wizard? An unattractive old man completely covered head-to-toe in elaborate robes? Weren’t these kinds of attention-grabbers supposed to have scantily clad women and a promise of seduction? The mage in the ad was a far cry from the usual flashy game promotions.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What are you talking about?” Chris’s came through his mic in poor quality. “Mob doesn’t need… kind of money? Ads… mean… shop deals?” His voice became more broken up as he spoke, and I glanced at our call. My connection was fine, so it was on his end. Typical. Somehow, in this day and age, Chris still had dial-up internet. And nobody knew what it was, just that it was old, bad, and it cut out if somebody called him on his equally surprising home phone. 

Blame his Luddite of a Russian mother who spoke not even a lick of English. I think she tried greeting me once when I was over for dinner, but I’ve always had difficulty understanding people with accents. And other languages? Nope. Definitely not my strength. I mean, I watch everything with subtitles. My brain just doesn’t grasp the sounds. Heaven forbid I ever have to travel outside of North America. Scratch that— heaven forbid I ever have to travel outside of Missouri.

Anyway, despite Chris’s obviously poor connection, the voice call never dropped. In fact, I could see his profile lighting up like he was speaking, but nothing was coming through. My eyes turned back to the animated banner. It seemed to have grown larger, the wizard’s eyes glowing brighter, his hand almost reaching through my screen.

“Ah, screw it,” I said. “I just backed this PC up like… recently-ish? If it’s a virus, I’ll just wipe it and start over.”

All of my games being online, there was nothing keeping me from acting bold and brash. Besides, this hardware was getting to the point where it belonged in the trash.

I smirked at the thought of a virus. My rig, despite its… economic efficiency… was a fortress, security tighter than the Pentagon's. 

“Try me,” I muttered, half-hoping for the challenge. After all, conquering a digital threat actor was just another form of gaming, wasn't it?

The ad flickered, and for a moment, I saw ancient runes, and then dragons were soaring over landscapes shimmering with an ethereal glow. It seemed familiar, somehow, like it wasn’t a game, but a place I’d been— a life I’d lived before.

“A life I’ve lived in my dreams!”

My cursor hovered over the ad; a shiver ran down my spine. It wasn’t fear, nor excitement. It was… a pull.

So I clicked the banner, and everything went white.

For as long as I could remember, gaming was more than just a pastime— it was a refuge. A place where the complications of life as an entry-level software engineer in a bustling city, the expectations, the noise of it all, faded into the background. In the digital realm, I was more than just Rex the debugging drone; I could be a conqueror, an heir to a forgotten ancient power, a hero.

These memories and more flashed through my mind as I floated in the void. I remembered the victories. The ones I’d earned in my most frequent games and the ones I’d achieved in games I’d never before played, because they aligned with my skill-sets and previous experience. I remembered the losses. Howling at the monitor until my throat was raw. Balling my fists so tightly my nails left marks in my palms. I remembered the laughter, the time spent making fun of myself for the crazy flashes of frustration that would dissipate so quickly.

But why was I thinking about all of this? Why wasn’t I trying to escape this void? Why… why couldn’t I move?

Suddenly, it felt like everything around me zoomed by. I couldn’t see it in the infinite void, but the feeling was there. Like when you crest the top of a rollercoaster and then you feel almost like you’re falling faster than reality can keep up.

“Crafter.” The word resonated through the void as I hurtled through the emptiness. “Come, Crafter.”

A scream rippled through the nothingness. It might’ve been me. Then, like an old television turning off, the white void around me condensed into a single line, vanished. The darkness gain a weight, the pressure surrounding me. Suddenly, I could move, and the first thing my body did was gasp for oxygen. Misty air filled my lungs, just diffused enough so I didn’t cough, but I still dropped to my hands and knees.

“Crafter,” a voice spoke. A ball of fire bloomed above me. “You’ve arrived. Welcome.”

I looked up, taking in my new surroundings. The air I was breathing was slowly becoming less and less humid. A ritual circle surrounded me, extinguished candles smoking at the tips of a seven-pointed star. They’d only just been put out, it seemed.

A long white beard hung in front of me, and following it up to the face of the man conjuring the ball of flame, I recognized the wizard from the tempting advertisement.

“Where am I?” I managed to finally ask. “And who are you?”

His cheeks rose in a broad, wrinkled grin of perfect teeth.

“Welcome to Elytheria, Crafter Get_Rext! My name is Aeon. I thank you for answering my summons.”

Before I could get a word out to correct him, tell him my name was just “Rex”, a box appeared in my view, reminiscent of the heads-up display in a virtual reality game. I could see through it. It was only just transparent enough, but the focus was clearly on the text contained within.

WELCOME, GET_REXT, TO THE DOMAIN OF DRAGONS: ELYTHERIA!

PREPARE TO SELECT YOUR BEGINNER CLASS.

PLEASE, PRESS START TO BEGIN.