He glared at the painting, huffing with each breath. The glow of the lantern cast a shadow over it, making it seem even more real in the twilight. Sometimes, the image looked like it moved, as if there was a slight breeze moving across it, ruffling everything it came by. It was eerie but comforting at the same time. The only comfort in moments like the one to come.

A slow whistle started out, building to a crescendo as the light in the room brightened. A voice came over a speaker in the corner. “Get ready for the final surprise!” The voice was female, crisp, and friendly. It continued, “We appreciate your patience and determination in being among the last of our candidates, but you’ll be rewarded for your participation.”

Despite the gloomy atmosphere, it was a bright sunny day outside. The door to the room opened and three people came in. They each had two items in their hand. One being the polar opposite of the other. The illusion of choice, Ben thought to himself, as he grunted and got to his feet slowly. The past few days had taken a 10-year toll on him. Somehow, 20 felt more like 50, in this reality. At his height, he stood a foot over the hosts – that’s what they called them. The idea was to pick two items from the selection. The rest would be decided by those choices.

Six items: a saber, a hotel key card, a  tablet, a sheet of paper, a mask, and a ribbon of hair. Each represented a unique outcome. The objective was to find which two would win me a new life and which would potentially cost me mine. I gestured at the first host, a teenager – approached so I could inspect the items. The saber looked pre-historic and could have represented any number of things: death, tragedy, protection, masculinity. I couldn’t say exactly, but when compared to the key card, I found some context. Together, they could represent home, safety, shelter… and really any variety of things. I wasn’t sure about that. I gestured to the next host and scrutinized the rest of the items in the same way.

The lights dimmed as the timer went down. Two minutes remaining.

378

Ben made his final choice: the tablet and the sheet of paper. Together they could provide some answers, but paired with any other option, he couldn’t account for the possibilities. The host holding them nodded and walked toward him. A rising podium came out of the floor and the items were placed on it. The hosts gave him one final glance and then shuffled out the door. They probably thought he was doomed, Ben thought to himself. He’d been lucky so far, but the farther you got into this game, the harder the loss later. He contented himself with the knowledge that every path in his life had led to this and that he had been powerless to change his fate.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Madthun was a game that was known across the globe. It was famous for being one of the few single-player games that had been successful with VR. It had entered millions of homes and profited billions. At its highest, it jumped the divide between virtual and reality and had now become a live role-playing game that audiences across the globe could stream in real-time. Players who opted for this knew that everything that happened in the game would happen in reality. Ridiculous a deal as it seemed, there was a huge trade-off: the bigger the audience, the more money a player would win at the end. To gain that audience, a player had to be willing to brave potential insanity by putting themselves at risk. Those who had played often became so immersed in this world, that once they returned to true reality, they were often on the edge of mental collapse – or had strained their bodies to the point of needing long-term physical therapy to live with the pain.

Ben certainly was one of those idiots who thought his life was worth the gamble, but his circumstances were slightly different. He’d heard about the impacts to players lives long-term, but that was for the lucky ones. Some disappeared altogether and wound up as ‘players’ – according to the company. At that point of obsession, they had usually already alienated families and loved ones, so there was no one to go back to. Staying in the game meant living as a POC – a game-controlled character – as a job of sorts as long as they wanted. To that end, any money they won was rendered useless – and could be sent to someone of their choosing while signing away their rights to live normal lives.

The true players were the shareholders since they decided what would become of these people and what role they would play once they became one with the game. Only 5% of players avoided both endings, and Ben had no option but to be among them. His life wasn’t the only thing on the line.

He paced back and forth in the small room, each step pacifying him against the utter silence within. The speaker and the camera had disappeared, but he wasn’t foolish enough to assume they weren’t watching. Suddenly, the tablet beeped and a message appeared on the screen. “Press Start to Begin.” Begin? As if it hadn’t already started, Ben thought. He tapped the button and with it, the room came to life. As he watched, the white empty room transformed into a night scene and then into a quiet residential road with houses fencing it in. Then the peaceful silence was replaced with a booming sound: a gunshot. He began to run.