Yeah, and them Community Helpers...I still don't fully understand what all they did. I never asked to be in stories unless people were looking for characters...I still ended up in a lot.
Oh yes....same. XDD You're writable?
But I sure wanted to be one of them. I read a lot of people's stories, so I think they felt obligated to include me.
The rest of the week played out like a bad nightmare. I showed up to training (most of the time) and left early (every time). I slept restlessly. I roved the Game like I didn’t have two projects coming right up. This couldn’t go on forever. I’d lose my reputation in-game. I’d go insane. I’d eat cardboard.
Friday night was the worst. We had our first match-up tomorrow. I was sitting before the downstairs TV, shoveling pizza into my mouth. One piece. Two pieces. Two more pieces as a sandwich. I hadn’t eaten since Thursday morning.
December glanced at the box. “Good thing I wasn’t hungry.”
“I’m gonna need everything to get through tomorrow.” I said.
“I’m sure half a greasy pizza is going to help out a lot.” December calmly sucked on her smoothie.
I glanced down at the box. “Five-eighths.”
“Is that detail really that important?” She switched movies. She kept switching movies. My head was spinning trying to keep up with all of them.
“Focusing on particulars helps distract my overactive mind from obsessing over things I have no control over.” I said. “They didn’t cut the pizza quite right. I think it was more like eleven-sixteenths.”
For the sake of argument, she replied. “Totally three-fifths.”
“I left you the pepper.” I said.
“That’s so kind of you.” She flipped channels again and I swapped channels too, grasping at what little information I retained about this film.
“Are you going to eat it or not?”
“Hardly.”
I grabbed it and took a bite out of it. I crunched it up, and swallowed. “For my first pepper ever, this isn’t half-good.”
“You never had a pepper?”
“Vegetables were for the rich. They were the only people stupid enough to waste money on them.”
“Shouldn’t you have scurvy or something?”
“I have a bolstered immune system. My body overreacts to disease. I’ll wake up drained one morning and realize I probably just handled the Scarlet fever that was going around.”
“There’s some pluses to that extra arm.”
“I also have a constant source of metal poisoning in my blood stream.” I said. “They had to install extra filters and fans that aren’t calibrated properly.”
“Does it hurt?” She asked, referring more to the implants in general than my pathetic little fans.
“All the time.”
Eating cardboard. XP "Physical? Or emotional?" -Hiro
Took me a while to figure out what you were talking about there. I had forgotten about that.
Hm, a good suggestion, but I'm rather incompetent on there due to lack of experience. I should be able to continue posting from the library computer, since I have to do a lot of my homework over there too.
He's great. I like his awesomely weird edginess-- I don't know how else to describe it, but I like it.
Awesome. Evidently, I wasn't aiming for realism here, so sorry for the inaccuracies. I kind of made the character, and then I was like, "I feel like this guy should be named 'Ojo,' it just sounds right."
Don't be sorry, he'll be like my alter ego. Glad I could inspire you
Hm, a good suggestion, but I'm rather incompetent on there due to lack of experience. I should be able to continue posting from the library computer, since I have to do a lot of my homework over there too.
Awesome. Evidently, I wasn't aiming for realism here, so sorry for the inaccuracies. I kind of made the character, and then I was like, "I feel like this guy should be named 'Ojo,' it just sounds right."
Don't be sorry, he'll be like my alter ego. Glad I could inspire you
I almost didn’t show up. In fact, I was still in bed, wide awake and grinning like maniac up till fifteen minutes before the game began. August was watching the time, though, and I just ended up being a few minutes late, which just made things worse with my little band of buddies.
“You’re late.” Tacks said.
“But I’m here, which is more than I bargained on.” I tugged at my armpit.
“I thought there could be nothing worse than playing shorthanded out here, but I get the feeling you’re gonna prove me wrong.” Tacks stepped into the airlock.
I paused on the threshold. “Shouldn’t you brief me in or something?”
“I should. I would’ve, if you’d shown up on time. If we aren’t out there in thirty seconds it’s a forfeit.”
DeadBeat shoved me into the elevator as he climbed in. Argo hopped in and pressed the appropriate button. The ride down was brief and intensely awkward. I yanked at my suit, aware it was accenting all my worst features.
They were all clustered around a screen on the wall, having an intense conversation that in no way included me. That’s okay. I could form my own little group. Me and my metal limbs. Team cyborg.
The door revolved. The playing field stretched out before us. “Good luck.” Tacks shot out of the opening. The other two followed. I got the feeling they didn’t expect me to follow. There was no way I was going to keep up anyways. I watched them disappear around a corner, and then finally realized that this was no longer training field #7.
My eyes widened. It was glorious. They didn’t need immersion gear. This was the real deal.
I stepped out of the gate and into an Eastern metropolis. Symbols were grafted onto the buildings, and the city was lit by hundreds of neon signs and pink street-lamps. People bustled all around me, pixelly pre-programmed people that had more of a social life than I did, obviously.
They also had jobs. I watched one fry a batch of fish on an exposed grill for a restaurant. The details. The coding. It was insane.
It was such a waste that they had turned this into a high school sporting event.
I spent the next fifteen minutes wandering around the game, getting ran over by very-material people and ogling at the exotic sights. I remembered way too late that this was a spectator sport, and walked into a building to escape the eyes of my tormentors. They weren’t privy to my personal awe of this place.
I ended up sitting on a couch, watching anime. There was literally a movie on. It wasn’t looped or anything, the whole film appeared to be playing out. I was actually getting really engrossed, when all of a sudden I wasn’t alone.
I met the rest of the squad that afternoon. Turns out a squad is only four people. I’d be getting nice and personal with these folks.
“Should I give a bio or something?” I said, after a few seconds of intense staring.
“Sure, meatsack.” The only other girl, and thus presumably “Tacks,” said. “Make it good.”
“Well, hello, I’m Nate. I’m seventeen. I’ve never played anything remotely physically, and I like videogames. I tried to get out of this mess, but obviously that didn’t work.” I did a little wave. “That’s me.”
“Wonderful.” The girl said in a killer monotone. “I’m Tacks, and I’m in charge here.”
“I’m DeadBeat.” A huge, hunking shadow said.
“And we’ve already met.” Argo held out her hand anyways. “So pleased to have you aboard.”
I didn’t shake it.
“We’ve got in-game practice in thirty, DeadBeat, get this loser his gear.” Tacks nodded towards the hall. “Make sure he doesn’t get lost.”
“I do have a tendency to forget room numbers.” I helpfully supplied. “I never remember if I read them backwards or forwards.”
Tacks looked at me, so full of hate, so full of disappointment. It made my day.
~<>~
Now, the gear was kind of exciting. It was a spandex body-suit, with some padding in uncomfortable places. There was a bright stripe looping over my shoulder and across my back and chest. There were matching stripes on the shins, and helmet. And I gotta admit, the helmet was lit. I put it on and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like I was straight out of a videogame. I took it back off, and tried to determine if this was going to be immersive. Was I going to look like an idiot as I was getting kicked around? I didn’t see any tech. Fingers crossed.
DeadBeat didn’t say much. In fact, the only time he opened his mouth on the way there was to lick his lips. I was okay with this. I wasn’t sure if I could keep my sarcasm in check at this point, and it’d hurt bad if he got mad enough to hit me.
I got into my own little changing cylinder, and tried on the suit. It was too small. It clamped tightly over my chest, hugging my limbs. I surveyed myself in the mirror. Was it apparent? No, I’d pass for human. Till somebody kicked me in face, or tried biting my hand. Savages.
I stepped out. “Hey, I got my Hunger Games garb on. When’s the parade?”
“You’re not at all funny.” DeadBeat said, with a deep sigh, as if he had been really hoping I would be.
“I am wildly amusing to myself.” I said, tugging at the armpits of my suit. “And that’s all that matters. Did they have to make these things to tight?”
“Yes.” He said. I noticed his was just as tight.
“What happens if I gain weight?” I glanced down at my stomach.
“Tacks will slice it off with a rusty dagger.”
I nodded once. “That’s good motivation.”
“She’s all about motivation.” He started back down the hall.
“Hey now, I’ve still got thirteen minutes till game time.” I said, prepared to balk.
“We’re going to see the arena.” He said. “You need to see the arena.”
I could see that being fairly important, so I complied. I still grumbled like heck, but that was just how I roll.
There has also been some canon changes. Basically, as you may have noticed, this story also kind of details the events that take place in the replacement of BASICS, whenever I get around to writing it, so I'm trying to make it good.
As such, there are only two great factions now, ruling over the rest. The dominate the...well, I'll just repost an edited part of the story.
I checked under my menu, looking at my notes. I had only three orders right now, two of them just minor repairs on previous jobs. Then I had my custom weapon, ordered by an oricsh-looking fellow who had said he lost his last blade imbedded in an assassin. I didn’t ask questions. Their business was not my business.
He appeared to be without a party. Which was odd, not many people abstained from the two major parties. For one simple reason: without them you had nobody at your back. You joined one, and prompto, you had three thousand friends backing you up in case of a scrape. They would help you in a fight, they would get you a job if you were unemployed, and they would buy from your shop. I worked alone. Friends were dangerous. They were a weakness. People could use them against you. And plus they tended to get in scrapes and then start squealing your name.
As such, my small shop didn’t invite much business, it was considered betrayal of the code to order weapons at a rival factions’ furnace, but since I proclaimed no loyalties, some risked it. My work was worth it, they claimed.
I also catered to those without a guild or faction. Which normally meant wack-jobs on manhunts or something.
The two controlling factions were the Fraternal Commonwealth, and the Iron Guild. The first was established upon users entering the party and receiving almost equal status with hundreds, now thousands, of other members. They shared their resources and the positions of power, though it was rumored to be rigged nowadays. The Iron Guild, on the other hand, counted everything by years of service, the most was given to those with the longest history.
But either way you went about it, it wasn’t a game about the individual user. Other parties tried that. There was a new one every third day, and none of them came even close to the original two’s stature. I checked the standings. I scrolled down the leaderboard. Not an unlisted or unique guild in sight. Just lines after line of Commoners and Aluminums, as they derisively called each other. I looked a little closer. There had been some fluctuation in the scores, so something had gone down. Oh well, it was presumably miles away from my humble abode, and leagues away from actually effecting me.
I flipped my menu back away as the knock rang out on my door. I gave up temporarily on the sputtering flames, and crossed the room. I pulled back the deadbolt, and peeked out of my sophisticated little eyehole.
Two main factions, very interesting. I'm looking forward to learning more about them.
I guess if I wrote really depressing stuff it might do the job. 
![[h]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/ViYqJCSzllPBNSUjmmad.png)
