The Rising Dawn, # 5— "Gaming, Worth Defending?"
- David Parker
- Oct 2, 2023
- 6 min read
[Short stories. Images generated by hotpot.ai]
Reggie Farmer’s Gift didn’t seem important to anyone but him, and mostly he only succeeded in scaring people. He was a glutton for information, and in terms of ethics, he usually used himself as a guinea pig. However, he would also sacrifice and tamper with relationships he had with real people. His reputation was much like a byword, a form of cathartic gossip. On the other hand, one thing that bothered people as much as anything else was that Reggie was constantly winning at games, whether or not he should do so to preserve amiable relations with others.
The Gamer, he was called, or the Game Pile, from those who hated him. He preferred the Prolific Gamer, if anything, or something cooler, if they didn’t mind.
But irrespective of whether anyone agreed, Gamer was a Scientist. He didn’t usually want to preserve human relations when he could be doing precious research.
Gamer had the ability to make people see things, even though Reggie’s imagination was non-visual. He made people see things based on the game Reggie had in mind. If he was thinking of The Legend of Zelda, his deportment, movements, and manipulation of sounds (using his quite unnatural larynx) could make other people experience their interactions as an immersive game of Zelda. Indeed, Reggie provided a glut of fodder for the gaming industry, but most of what he gleaned from his own efforts was information, which he was obsessively compiling and archiving into scientific journals. However, having the appearance of someone with arrested development, and also in opposition to prevailing scientific thought, and also never having completed his education, the Gamer painfully contented himself with knowing what his research meant. For some people, romance, affluence, family and friendships defined their lives. For Gamer, in addition to games, his lifeblood was data and research.
Reggie the Gamer’s ability to manipulate social environments to create immersive gaming experiences was coveted, exploited, and also frightened people, and for the rest they eagerly sought his personal time, at first. But because Reggie leaned towards social ineptitude, most of those who desired his attention eventually lost heart for befriending him.
Reggie himself was blind to his own Gift, and instead obsessed over proving it was real, which was obvious to most people, yet it didn’t have the impact Reggie wanted.
When Reggie used his power, sometimes people who hated or had no knowledge of the gaming experience he had in mind would instead experience it as a game they were familiar with, a death in Super Mario akin to a losing hand in poker. For those who never so much as touched a game, they nevertheless were able to participate, sometimes more so than a typical gaming addict. For example, if he had Zelda in mind, the players with no gaming experience would see visual representations of creatures, characters, equipment, and environments, often better than actual Zelda fans. Inadvertently, The Prolific Gamer would produce inspiration for slews of games, while himself could only gather data and more proofs that he had a special power.
The use for such a power had much value in the entertainment industry, but the Sentinels and the Rising Dawn did not especially have interest in The Gamer even when they heard of him.
The fruits of Gamer’s labor was the construction of what he called The Gamerverse, and it irked him to no end when he named something and someone called it something else, yet still embraced his own idea. The Gamerverse was an idea that would re-contextualize every form of media within a giant game, even absorbing theater that had no place in gaming. That part he hadn’t quite worked out, but he finally gained the attention of the Sentinels when his growing network of gamers who adjoined themselves to the Gamerverse began affecting and shaping the world around them. As his network of participants grew, the Gamerverse grew stronger, and soon those who had no interest in participating began seeing Reggie’s illusions, beginning to interpret life in the context of games, whether or not they were willing.
When the Sentinels noticed Gamer was getting stronger, they realized, thanks to The Philosopher, that irrespective of whether they agreed with his vision, if someone else got control of Gamer it could spell disaster.
Gamer’s militancy was based on what he called the Law of Alchemy. Slews of newbies were joining every few days, yet in Gamer’s mind, he could either be recognized and paid for his invention, or he would be a gaming God, the sole rightful heir of this phenomenon. In order to obtain, something else must be given in exchange; that meant unless he was given his due by conventional means, he would eventually own your soul.
Gamer spent most of his days in pajamas, refusing to acknowledge concepts of social mores in a world that didn’t see his worth.
“So this is your abode?” said Parse. She could say something to describe it, but it would have been an insult to a prickly individual.
“It’s mine,” said The Gamer.
“What do you do to finance your home?” said The Philosopher.
Gamer sighed. “I have documents confirming I have autism, and I don’t care to deliberate.”
“No one’s accusing you,” said Wraith gently, although her view of Gamer was less flattering than her view of gentle, sweet Gimmick, who would be jubilant over a properly made grilled ham and cheese.
“We’re interested in the, ah, illusory network you’ve created,” Said Philos (Fee-los, Philosopher). “Can’t just call it what I named it,” said Gamer to no one in particular, “can’t even give it the name I wanted. That’s what you people are like.” “That’s not us,” said Parse with conviction, “You can call it whatever you like. We just want to understand it.” “I call it something, but does anyone even respect what I call it?” Philosopher said, “We understand, but something tells me you have no one else to complain to. We’ll call it the, ah, Gamerverse? It’s your invention.” “Yes, the Gamerverse,” said Parse with pointed enthusiasm, “We want to know more about it.” “Would you like to read my journal?” “I’m just the woman to talk to for that,” said Parse, “Philos being the second.” “I’d be happy to read it, if it was necessary,” said Philos, “But you’re the one who knows, Reginald.”
There was a brief silence.
Then, Reggie said, “If I’m with you, I’m the Gamer. The Prolific Gamer. Or something better. Not Game Pile.” “Ehrm, of course.” Then he said, “It all started when me and my friend in school basically burned all our time playing Tetris.”
They listened with interest.
He continued, “We both noticed after playing for dozens of hours, we would both start seeing Tetris blocks even when we weren’t playing. Our minds would interpret our surroundings as Tetris blocks. If something wasn’t going well, we’d see it as losing in Tetris.”
“Is that… healthy?” asked Wraith. “Probably not. But nearly a decade later, I realized you could harness it. Instead of turning your brain into an expert in Tetris, you could reverse-engineer it to enhance your surroundings.”
The three Sentinels stood in complete awe.
Gamer noticed. “I put the Awe in Autistic.”
They were too much in awe to laugh.
“How did you manage to… do such a thing with your— non-existent budget?” said Wraith. “You want me to sit here and explain it to you, or you wanna give me money, and I’ll explain it?” “You’re hired,” said Parse and Wraith in unison.
Gamer made a beat-box of the Final Fantasy victory score, sounding identical to the real thing. He even somehow played multiple instruments, from his single voice box. “Bum bum bum BUM, ba, dum da da DUM! Doo, doo, doodoo, doo dee doo dee doo….”
The Sentinels looked around themselves, then at each other. They were seeing small illusions of things from their own lives, something that conveyed Gamer winning. Philos saw himself losing at badminton, and Wraith saw herself losing at Pac Man.
Wraith whispered, “He’ll need a baby sitter.” “A genius is the eyes of a child with a mind of a genie,” said Philos. “It’s unbelievable that people take advantage of your special needs,” said Parse. “I keep saying that, and nobody does anything.” “The cavalry’s here,” said The Philosopher, “The planes are shifting. Let us go.”
*-------------------------------------------*
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