Respawn Chat Log

There was a place inside the hanging gardens of Babylon where ghosts gathered. It was sealed off from its endless colorful sky, lit only by the pale white energy of a crystal formation at its center, standing more than fifty feet tall. It had tree-like branches, more than thick enough to support the weight of living creatures, but only the ethereal dead were present.

The ghost of Flippers sat on one such branch, kicking his feet, just waiting. Nothing in the game stayed dead forever. The crystal tomb was much more like a waiting room or a penalty box. Really it was an admirable extra step from the game’s developers. A lot of other multiplayer games just cut to another active player’s camera when the countdown to respawn started.

But the gardeners, as their occasionally fawning community called the overworked programmers, had gone beyond the call of duty and designed an entire space just for the downtime between lives. They’d even supplied some lore to further contextualize it, written on the walls of the chamber in glowing text:

Fear not traveler. You are not lost. This crystal is not the final light. You have fallen, but you have done so within the range of this rock’s great power. The crystal tree has grown with every death it has witnessed, over countless centuries, and it can stand to watch them idly no longer.

Your spirit has been reclaimed from your fallen body, and it will be returned, once the tree ensures you are not followed by the relentless black-cloaked specters of Death. All of us who have passed and returned before wish you the best of luck. Life is a precious gift, and holding onto it desperately is merely a compliment to the forces that gifted it. Rise swiftly and retake what is yours.

The ghosts were not represented as the characters being played in that match, but instead as vaguely humanoid blobs of pale energy, coming in four colors to indicate the role they served on their team: green for medics, purple for assassins, orange for brawlers, and white for rangers. So right now Flippers was just a lonely purple splotch. He didn’t do too well when left alone with his thoughts, which is why it was a great relief when a splash of white appeared like a silent firework.

The tournament was underway. This was only their second match in the second annual Hangers-On Open. The first had gone smoothly enough, but that was just to separate out the weakest players in a field where anyone who could hold a mouse, or blow on it hard enough to make it move, could join.

Now they had to be careful. It was double-elimination, so they would only be afforded one loss before they were out, before the shot at the grand prize was gone. If they did lose they would be shuffled into the losers’ bracket and face an even more aggressively uphill battle. Two of them being in respawn at the same time was not a good sign.

Standard procedure, in the event that a quarter of the team was lost, was to retreat, especially if they had the chest. A good amount of time could be burned, and thus points accrued, if they fled with skill until they were back in full force.

Now half the Beaucoup Bucks were ghosted. They’d only settled on a team name four days ago, and they were already on the ropes. Plusplus hadn’t even had time to design them a logo yet, but when his drawing tablet was up and running again it was going to be a stag with a ton of hundred dollar bills skewered on its antlers.

All of their initial matches were scheduled by the organization, and all during hours that tended to be daytime for North America. That meant Granslam’s granite business was open, and the company computers it employed were busy storing invoices and sending E-mails. The Bucks didn’t have their business class internet, and they weren’t even in the same building.

Each was stuck at home using headset microphones, but the living couldn’t communicate with the dead. The respawn area had a text chat channel just for ghosts, so Flippers attacked his keyboard.

Flippers: Hey, over by the lore. Want to sit with me and keep me company? Lol

Handzy: We’re getting hammered out there. I wasn’t expecting them to run centaur mummy. We wasted a ban on rune scarred.

Flippers: The other guys can hold it together. We planned for this. We still have the chest right?

Handzy: I had it before I got ganked. I don’t know if Plus managed to snag it. If not we’re screwed. You know how when you turn a screw too deep it bends the wood around it? That’s us.

Flippers: maybe

Handzy: How are you so calm right now? Didn’t you say you needed the money more than I do?

Flippers: Yeah. My parents kicked me out too. I’m playing at a friend’s right now, crashing there until I can get a place.

Handzy: What did they kick you for!? Thanks for even being here man; I’d have given up.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Flippers: I’d rather not say. And no you wouldn’t. You’re Handzy. You’d choke anybody who even suggested you give up on anything… even if it’s like your spot in a cafeteria line or something lol.

Handzy: That’s if somebody ELSE tells me I can’t do something. Trust me, I’m great at giving up. Holmes is the one pushing me on, plus you guys. God, what’s taking so long?

Flippers: It’s centaur mummy. He must be running the desecrate perk. Every time he shoots the spot where we died it extends our respawn time. If he’s camping our graves one of the guys will have to dislodge him. You didn’t die right next to me did you? Never mind. I’m up.

Flippers’s ghost vanished. Handzy’s followed soon after, but the crystal tomb wasn’t empty for long. Plusplus stopped by, his phantom anxiously circling the tree. The team was more than doomed without a medic. Luckily the enemy brawler wasn’t able to plant himself atop the death site. His stay was less than twenty seconds.

Two minutes later Flippers returned, angry enough to talk to himself in the text chat. Messages faded out of it quickly and weren’t recorded, so there was no risk of anyone seeing it. At least seeing the words on the screen meant he could control something, make an impact somewhere. It was still better than the real world, than the actual silence of sitting alone, far from his family.

Flippers: Yeah just go ahead and focus me enemy medic. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do. Better prove you can dunk on the shittiest assassin in the history of the gardens. Guess I should just hang myself with all the potted ferns around here.

Flippers: Oh hey Jenny. Yup I’m here again. Bet you wish you never invited me to be on your team huh? Bet you wish I’d just grow skin over my mouth and never speak again. Listen, I know I’m a complete failure in every way and I reek of desperation…

Flippers: But you wouldn’t want to maybe go out sometime would you? I’ve kind of had a crush on you since like sixth grade. I know I’ve never said anything about it, but actually I have. Just not to you. I’ve told every device I’ve owned since then. Written your name in my phone a few times. I was stupidly excited when I actually got to put your real number next to it.

Flippers: I told notes in school that I never passed. I told the bark of a tree in my backyard. I told the sand at the beach right where the waves would wash it away. And now I tell the hanging gardens of Babylon.

Flippers: Maybe there’s something in this game that will absorb it and tell you for me. They put in just about everything else.

Flippers: I’ll really tell you if we win. With our shares of the money we can really do things, be who we want to be. You’ll know that this isn’t just because you’re beautiful. It’s because you’re a powerhouse. Even when you’re worn out I can see how much your personality burns inside you. There’s just so much of it. You’re so much person.

Flippers: Most of the time I just feel like a shell of one. You could show me how to be better, or at least more.

(Handzy has entered the crystal tomb)

Handzy: Shit gobblers! Shit fuck piss shit FUCK. FUCK PISS. Flippers! FUCK PISS, you hear me!?

Flippers: I read you loud and clear ranger. Did poison damage get you again?

Handzy: YES. FUCK. They have the chest now and we’re behind 15 and counting. We need to pull a new tactic out of our collective ass. Think. What’s their weakness? They’re running centaur, sand rake samurai, bandage dresser, and glassblower. Centaur’s on desecrate and glassblower’s got refract. They’re trying to keep us locked in respawn as long as possible.

Flippers: Wait… if they’re doing that they probably sacrificed late game potential on glassblower. He won’t be going for the masterpiece finish. He’ll try and push under rain-shatter instead. No masterpiece finish, no heal bombs.

Handzy: Which means their medic can’t switch roles at the end! They’ll be out of bandages and take extra raw damage. Soon as I get back I’ll watch for it. You dodge the rain-shatter in your shadow form. Got it?

Flippers: You bet partner.

A few seconds later both of them exited once more. They shared the plan with Plusplus and Granslam and went to work. The Beaucoup Bucks weren’t going down yet, at least not until everyone had a chance to see the awesome logo they were going to have.

The next time an orange ghost appeared it belonged to the enemy team. As did the next green and the next white.

Tugmoat: Wow. They turned that around quickly.

Celebritywasp: They figured out the rain-shatter thing. It would’ve worked way better with rune scarred. I told you.

ScrapeApe: He did tell you.

Tugmoat: Oh so this is my fault now!? Look at the centaur stats. Weight was pulled on that end. We just didn’t spring the trap fast enough. Their ranger should’ve been in here for like half the game.

ScrapeApe: We could still be fine since Gutter is still out there. If he has the chest we can pull it out by like 2 points as long as he doesn’t show up in the next few seconds.

(Gutterball has entered the crystal tomb)

Tugmoat: Godamit. Loser’s bracket here we come.

Gutterball: Sorry guys.

Celebritywasp: It’s not your fault Gut. It’s not like we have a chance of winning this whole thing anyway. Microdose Berserk are playing. Anybody who goes up against them is gonna be slapped down hard.

Tugmoat: Would’ve been nice to try. Second prize is 25K!