Chapter 1: Unexpected News
My fingers clicked across my desktop keyboard as I typed with a familiarity born of having the same username and password for every game related thing I took part in. It probably wasn’t safe in terms of cybersecurity, but I had never been hacked. Besides, it was just a game account and once you’re an adult, it’s really not that hard to make up for lost time with character boosts and a good 32 hour binge weekend at home.
Username: [email protected]
Password: WhoR3allyGivesADamn?
I hadn’t logged into my gamer email in ages. The main reason I had it was so I didn’t have to. All the promos and mailing lists I had to sign up for got sent to that address. Fusion™ receipts for the few games I bought these days were sent there to be forgotten. It had been a while since I had played anything new. There wasn’t much time for that over the last couple years of the most serious relationship I had ever been in. That had changed and I was on my own again, so I was back to my old ways and eager to log in to the newest expansion of everyone’s favorite market dominating MMO. I’d come in late to the last few and wanted to get in on the beginning of this one. Unfortunately, it had been so long since I had logged on to the publisher’s website that my account had been locked when I tried to log in from “a new location”. So here I was, chasing down the email code to unlock it.
Froststorm | Froststorm Account Verification | Hello! If J4ckFr0st#1337 isn’t your CombatID, don’t click anythi. . .
Veritas Games | Your -Apocolypsis: The Real World Online- CrowdSpark Beta Invitation | The day you’ve been waiting 10 years for has arrived.
The second message gave me pause. When I was 18 and making dumb(er) choices, I had spent a couple thousand dollars of my financial aid on a CrowdSpark campaign for a game called Apocolypsis. A year or two after the crowdfunding campaign had ended, news seemed to dry up and no one talked about it anymore. Updates from CrowdSpark had stopped. I had buried it under the rug with other lessons in making better financial decisions and forgotten about it over the years.
Since the account verification was on a timer, I took care of that before opening the next email. I closed the Froststorm account tab without buying anything. I needed to figure out what the Apocolypsis email was about first.
Dear J4ckSpr4t,
Today has been a long day coming. Everyone here at Veritas has put an astounding amount of blood, sweat, and tears into Apocolypsis: The Real World online. We have lived, loved, and died a thousand times breaching the veil between the world you see and the world as it truly is.
It was your support and the support of thousands of others who love the truth that made it all possible. It is time for the veil to fall, and our first intrepid pioneers to cross that boundary and blaze a trail for all who follow after.
Apocolypsis has changed a lot from its original form. First imagined as a virtual reality game in an age of headsets and haptic gloves, we are happy to finally announce that we have been working with Delusional Reality Inc. to create the first game solely designed to take advantage of their new Immersive Reality Capsule.
As a $2,000+ Backer, you are one of the lucky few who will receive an Immersive Reality Capsule with Apocolypsis: The Real World Online pre-installed for no additional charge. Normal retail for the standard capsule is $2,699. The Capsule is our way of saying thank you. Without you, none of this would have been possible.
Follow the directions below to enter a current address and set up an appointment for the installation of your capsule. For those of you with space or family issues, Capsule rental space and customer care is available at a Delusional Reality Inc. facility outside Redmond, Washington.
We understand and sincerely apologize for all your frustration and patience waiting for this day to come. We look forward to seeing you in the Real World.
Sincerely,
The Team at Veritas Games
I think I was in shock in those first moments after reading the email. My jaw was literally slack and I used my hand to shut it, because it wasn’t volunteering to do so of its own accord. I was suspicious, of course. It was the Internet after all, and if something is too good to be true on the Internet, it’s usually best to stare the gift horse in the mouth. There are gift horses, and then there are Trojan horses, and I was leaning toward the latter.
I was wrong. A few Infinite searches later and I had confirmed the announcements via FaceSpace trending news, AnimeNerds, and Dodecahedron. There were already thousands of comments on every thread and article by the time I got there. I skimmed a few, not expecting much, and must say I was impressed at the speed at which some of those individuals could type. Some of the back and forth between naysayers and proponents seemed like they could have given Tolstoy a run for his money.
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Leaving those with more time than sense to their debates, I clicked through the links at the bottom of my email and signed up to have my capsule delivered to the small two bedroom house I rented. Redmond and their facility wasn’t too far away and according to the site at my backer level care was provided for a year for $50 a month. Why they chose the word care I wasn’t certain, but I was definitely curious. For now being at home sounded like the best choice. The game could be a flop, after all, and I could just throw the capsule up on Fredslist if it turned out it wasn’t my thing. Renting space would just mean more hassle if I didn’t like the game.
The day after I received another email, this time from Delusional Reality.
Dear Mr. McNamara,
Due to the sheer number of requests processed yesterday, we are currently looking at a three month backlog before an Immersive Reality Capsule can be delivered to your home. As one of the earliest high-end backers, Veritas Games has asked us to invite you to take part in testing a prototype Advanced Immersive Reality Capsule. Please contact us at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely Yours,
Alanna Beck
Neurologistics Coordinator
Delusional Reality Inc.
She had included a number to reach her at, so I dialed immediately. It rang twice before someone picked up.
“Delusional Reality, how may I help you?” asked a woman’s voice.
I breathed a laugh out of my nose. Hearing someone say Delusional Reality outloud was strange. I replied before I could offend the person on the other end.
“Yes, is Alanna Beck available?” I asked.
“This is she.”
“Ah, hello Alanna. This is Jack McNamara. I’m calling about the Advanced Reality Capsule?”
“Oh, Mr. McNamara.”
I interrupted her. “Just Jack, please.”
“Jack, then. It’s nice to hear from you. So you’re interested in testing our Advanced Immersive Reality Capsule?”
“I suppose so. What exactly makes it advanced? I don’t really know what the Immersive Reality Capsule does anyway.”
“Unfortunately, before I can tell you much, you will have to sign an NDA. But basically, our IRC makes playing Apocolypsis similar to being in a lucid dream. The goal of the AIRC is to make it feel like you’re really there.”
“That’s incredible. I didn’t realize VR was at that level.”
“Let’s just say we’ve spent a long time grinding and finally leveled up,” she joked.
I gave an appreciative laugh. “Gotcha. So what do we need to do? Do I need to sign in person?”
My email dinged.
“No need, I just sent you a PDF. Sign it in the Hancock font and we’ll recognize that as a legally binding agreement. Do you need time to review it with a lawyer?” she trailed off as I heard a ding through the phone. “Oh, I see you don’t. Just another EULA, right?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve sold my soul to the devil at least a dozen times over the years because I don’t read those things.”
She laughed. “Haven’t we all? So, are you available any time this week for delivery and set up?”
“I can probably get a half day on Friday. Would that work?”
“Sure. Is there any way you could take the next week off? While you can totally use the AIRC casually, part of the testing we would like to do includes a full week of immersion.”
The choice of the word care suddenly made a lot more sense, but I was surprised.
“You’re asking me to play a game for an entire week? As in, 24/7?” I asked.
“Yes, the AIRC is a self-contained medical unit as well as a virtual reality platform. All your needs would be taken care of and you can choose from daily to 24 care from a CNA, at our expense.”
“Is there any danger?”
“There are always risks, and we can have someone go over those in detail if you like. But they should be minimal. The system has been vigorously tested and there is currently less risk than flying or driving.”
“Isn’t flying safer than driving anyway?” I asked.
“That’s what they say,” she answered. I could hear a smile in her voice. “So what do you think?” she asked.
“I am tempted.” I told her honestly, though even I could hear the trepidation in my voice.
“Did I mention that we’d be providing additional compensation during the testing phase?”
“You’re going to pay me to play video games for a week?”
“THE video game to end all video games, Jack. But yes, we’re going to pay you to play video games, on top of getting the AIRC to keep when it is finally released. A lawyer will bring all the necessary paperwork for you to sign while the technicians are setting up your capsule.”
I thought about it for a moment. Every nerdy gamer cell in my body was already screaming yes. A week off work. Escape into a game that should feel like real life. No worried elderly parents, no well-meaning friends wanting to get you drunk over a girl you never expected to work out anyway, no going to bed alone and missing her in spite of that. I am not sure why I thought about it so long, to be honest. The answer was easy.
“I’m in.”