Game On Read online

  Game Master

  Game On

  David Clark

  Game Master Copyright © 2018 by David Clark. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Becky Narron

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Author David Clark

  Visit my website at http://www.authordavidclark.com/

  Printed in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  Game Master

  What Did You Think of Game Master: Game On?

  About the Author

  Other Works

  1

  Robert had no idea how long he and his friends have been trapped in a box barely big enough to stand up in; much less to stretch out in. It was dark and the air was hot and stale, even with the holes in the wall and the slits in the floor. A sense of depression and despair hung heavy over the group. It had been a while since any of the others had said anything. They yelled for what seemed like hours, but it was closer to just minutes. After no response from outside, each person pulled within themselves to ponder their situation in their own little space of their cramped confines.

  For the first few minutes, the six friends thought this was just an accident. They hoped Christopher was stuck in the elevator, and can’t get out to let them through. As time wore on, that dissipated into nothing. Along with any hope they would be let out soon.

  When Michelle turned on her cellphone, they gained their first real look at their situation. With each detail they observed, any lingering hope that this was all a mistake, or even a joke, disintegrated. There was one truth that was now clear for them all to see. Their friend of the last several weeks led them here intending to trap them and, well, they don’t know what else yet. In fact, no one speculated about it out loud, but they were thinking about it; it consumed Robert.

  In this dark solitude all he could do was think. His mind raced through the possibilities; from ransom to murder and the more demented. He thought back to every interaction with Christopher over the last several weeks for anything that might give him a clue, a direction, a hint at what his motive might be. No matter how many times he reviewed it, nothing stood out. What was yet to come was anyone’s guess.

  As he searched for answers, Robert was quick to discount the thought of ransom, he had no money, neither did Amy or his family. Then the thought, maybe someone else was the target emerged. He knew little about each of them; only what they told him or disclosed in other ways. It was possible that any one of them was hiding a secret life, something rather common with people you meet online (like he did each of these friends). Some even created a new persona. Are they who each claim to be or is this a fake life they concocted for the online world?

  Could anyone, or several, of them have something in their past that made them a target? Something someone would want to get revenge for or to hold for ransom?

  There was no way Robert could know. A part of him that wanted to ask, but how do you ask a question like that? “Hey, guys, has anyone here done anything that might cause someone to want to kidnap you?”

  They could be the target and not even know it. Just asking that question might single one person out and the rest would attack or isolate them. That would be the worst case. To survive, Robert knew they must work together as a team.

  There was that sound again: a machine of some sort starting up. When it started, you could hear it muffled in the distance and feel a strong vibration throughout the box. Other than the rustling of someone in the box trying to get comfortable, it was the only sound Robert had heard for the past few hours.

  Sitting there in the darkness, he reviewed the images of the box stored in his mind. He turned each image around and around, looking for a weakness, a way out. There were no exposed joints, screw or nail holes. The door they came through had no exposed hinges or doorknobs on their side. No perceived weak spots at all. Each pass over the details resulted in the same conclusion. There was no way to escape, at least not until Christopher made his next move.

  With that futile analysis completed, again, his mind shifted back to the question of why. What good would it do to just trap a group of people in a box and leave them? There was a bigger plan than just holding them in this box. There must be, or was there?

  Over and over the questions cycled through Robert, with no answers to be found. The mental gymnastics were tiring. One fact was for sure, this was not something he believed could happen in his wildest dreams when he first met this great group of friends. Back then, it was all about fun and games.

  2

  “Gotcha, Biotch!”, a voice exclaimed while one fist pumped in the air and the other maintained a firm grip on the game controller.

  An adolescent voice protested the celebrated conquest through the headset, “That wasn’t fair! I wasn’t ready.”

  Back engaged in a battle that took place in a non-existing universe of ones and zeros, broadcast across sixteen other monitors around the world, various bodiless conversations took place via headsets worn by participants who have taken on personas like Killazilla, EyeShotUREye, MadUBe, WhoMe, and BOB with no reference to who they were in the real world. These conversations were not earth-shattering deep conversations that would solve world hunger by any means. They were more of a casual nature.

  EyeShotUREye taunted his most recent victim over the open mic, “Tell it to your mother. Oh, and tell her I will be over later to spank that ass!”

  Another voice chimed in, “Come on guys. Keep it clean, there could be little kids in here.”

  ULose responded with a voice that sounded like a six-year-old boy: “No kids here.”

  The rest of the room threw in their two cents in fake high-pitched voices: “No kids here. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  While the intelligent verbal barrage took place, EyeShotUrEye hunted down the last participant in the game, winning the Last Man Standing match. The players returned to the lobby and checked their match statistics, current rank, and any special perks they earned during the game. Once the stats were reviewed and bragged about, the wait for the next game ensued.

  Some players left and said their goodbyes, while new players joined for the first time. The game was played all around the world making the concept of time irrelevant. It could be two in the afternoon for one player and two in the morning for others. Most had no sense of the actual time; they have been playing the same game for hours in total darkness. Pyramids of empty, colorful caffeinated energy drink cans and remnants of junk food decorated their room.

  The passage of time paused while immersed in this world. Playing for days, only to stop to retrieve rudimentary microwaved nourishment that contributed to the global obesity problem, and an occasional bathroom break, was not unheard of. In fact, the world record for playing this kind of video game was one hundred and thirty-five hours straight. So, twelve, sixteen, or twenty hours was rather common, which made the question repeated at the end of every game somewhat rhetorical: “Do you want to play another?”

  Killazilla confirmed the obvious, “Of course. Let’s go. I’m going to win this time. Wa
tch out!”

  Killazilla was nineteen-year-old Robert Deluiz. He lived in a simple one-bedroom apartment in La Jolla California with his high school girlfriend, Amy Carter. It was 3:50 pm on a Friday afternoon in his world. His girlfriend was at work while he enjoyed the first day of a four-day weekend at the end of his second semester at San Diego Community College. With no homework, classes, or work until Tuesday, he wanted to unwind and enjoy the next four days. That included spending a significant amount of time online waging mindless war in the digital universe. He knew he needed to log off when Amy came home; she was not a fan of what she called a “waste of time.” So, he tried to limit his game time when she was home to while she was on her laptop doing homework or reading the news, but when she was away, it was game on!

  While waiting for the new game to start, an envelope appeared at the top of the screen. The preview showed it was a game invite from someone named UDiedPlaying. Robert ignored it and the game started. Eleven of the sixteen players remained from the last game; five players were new. Once the match opened, he announced, “Fresh meat for my mad skills!”

  The round did not equal Robert’s expectations; he was the second person killed and relinquished to sitting and watching for twenty minutes as others played out the game. As entertaining as it was to watch others play, and take part in the taunting, it didn’t match playing yourself.

  Back in the lobby, he didn’t bother to check his statistics due to his lackluster performance; nothing should have changed. The cycle of game life continued, some left and others joined. One of the new members was the same person who sent him the game invite earlier, UDiedPlaying. They probably gave up waiting for him to accept the invitation and used a game option that let you join the same lobby as another player. No problems with that; the more the merrier.

  Round after round, the cycle of players leaving and joining continued for the rest of the afternoon. UDiedPlaying left a few rounds ago and sent Robert another private game invite. Robert considered it for a second. They were good, why not?

  He accepted and joined. There were already five players in the lobby, and compared to the other lobbies he had been in that day, they were quiet. Two more joined to bring the total to eight players and the game set them up into two random teams of four. Robert, Killazilla, was on the same team with UDiedPlaying. In a matter of minutes, the team hunted down everyone on the other team. Everyone but one. For the first time since the game started, a few broke their silence and cracked jokes, including UDiedPlaying. He sounded like an older man, but that didn’t stop him from making childish jokes at the expense of the remaining opponent. All four members of their team talked and worked together to locate and trap the last target.

  TPBungHole called them out, “Come on out. We have some nice bullets for you.” The whole team laughed at that. It was too bad the other team couldn’t hear their comments.

  Killazilla took a quick look around the corner at where he thought the last player was. A quick, and errant, return shot confirmed the position. The four players worked together and coordinated the attack to ensure someone took them down, even if that meant running into a trap and losing a few of their own team.

  Once everyone was set up, UDiedPlaying gave the order, “GO!”

  With that command, four members came around the building and unloaded on IZtheBest. The graphic showed Killazilla made the final shot.

  Once back in the lobby, Robert announced he needed to call it a day, his girlfriend should be home soon. The occupants in the room begged him to stay. UDiedPlaying made a passionate plea, but Robert had to go. He logged out and turned off the game.

  Robert put the controller back with the console and turned the television back to a random cable channel as the lock on the door clicked. He greeted Amy, “Hey baby, how was work?”

  “It was a long… long day, but I can’t wait to get out of here and celebrate. Are you ready?”

  Robert stood up off the sofa he had been planted in for the last several hours and replied, “Just finished getting ready. Let’s go!”

  3

  It was the afternoon on day two of Robert’s four-day weekend and Amy just left for her sister’s baby shower, giving him three to four hours alone in the apartment. There was no need for him to wonder how he will spend that time, it was more than enough time to wage war in the digital universe. Amy would think spending several hours on a game was a childish waste of time, but to Robert it is both social and mentally stimulating like a complex puzzle. One where you run around shooting people and exhibit the social skills of any middle school locker room.

  He grabbed the controller and switched on the console. Before he even launched the game, the counter of items in his inbox got his attention. Three hundred and eighty-three messages. He blinked to check if he saw that number clearly, he did; three hundred and eighty-three! More than a tad bit curious about all these messages, he checked his inbox. All of them, every single one of them, were game invites from UDiedPlaying. Robert muttered to himself, “Dang dude. What the hell?”

  He thought about responding to him, to ask him to leave him alone or something, but ignored him and searched for an open lobby. With only a few hours to enjoy he had no time to waste on what was in his inbox.

  Once logged in and in an existing lobby, notifications flashed for another seven invites. He bet he knew who those were from. Becoming annoyed, he ignored them again and prepared to play as the countdown to the start of the round was now at five seconds. The countdown hit zero, and the battle ensued in that digital world that felt all too real. With his feet up on the table (something he would never do if Amy was home) and leaning back in the couch, he zoned out engrossed in the world delivered to his eyes by the sixty-inch LCD display and to his ears through his headset. The world around him ceased to exist.

  The round ended and the ritual changing of players commenced. Those either bored, tired, or looking for something different left and new players entered. Robert was engaged in an exchange with several other players that will never be compared to Macbeth or any other literary wonder and does not notice UDiedPlaying has entered the game lobby. The witty repartee continued with comments such as, “your talent stinks like my farts” and “do you want me to send pictures I took of your mother?”

  The countdown in the lobby hit ten seconds and the game divided the sixteen players into two teams of eight. Only then did Robert notice who was on his team. He wondered to himself why is this guy following him around.

  He muted that player to avoid hearing him during the game. When the game started, his team scattered around the virtual map. Some looked for that perfect sniper perch to gain an advantage over the others that want to run out in the open; others took the tact of duck and cover around the buildings while he searched for the tale-tell red flag above an opponent’s head.

  Muffled sounds of gunshots and explosions filled the background, signaling some had engaged each other. The kill notifications at the bottom of the screen reported several rapid deaths at the hands of UDiedPlaying. This game type allows players to rejoin the game after five seconds following their death. A popular type maximizing the opportunities for both those being killed and those doing the killing. His stalker’s kill count racked up. Only two minutes into the twelve-minute game and he was up to eleven kills. Robert only had two. Combined with his performance last night, Robert was impressed and thought, “This guy isn’t too bad.”

  He maneuvered around the cityscape they while looking for either a red or blue flag above each player’s heads. Blue flags represented teammates and red flags were opponents; targets. They racked up more kills, UDiedPlaying led the way. Robert finally found an opposing player and pulled for a quick shot but was too late; another player on his team took his kill. He didn’t have to even look at the message to see who. He knew.

  The twelve-minute round ended and Robert’s team won. It was not even close. The other team was very vocal in their disappointment, blaming one another. SpitinurEye was the target of
all the suggestions on what he could do with himself, probably because he ended with twenty-nine deaths in total. Most of the players had double-digit deaths. While on the winning team, Robert was in complete shock. He had never seen a player rack up fifty or more kills before! He unmuted UDiedPlaying and offered his congratulations; it was well received.

  Robert asked, “So what is your secret. I have never seen that many kills before?” He received the typical answer to that question in this setting, “Skills baby, all skills.” Everyone laughed.

  This continued for another thirty minutes with the results ending up the same. Whatever team UDiedPlaying was on, won. Robert found himself on the losing end of the random team assignment a few times. In one of those they killed him eighteen times. He noticed there were no missed shots; if he caught you in the open it was one shot and you are dead. You didn’t have a chance to take a shot, as it seemed he was always prepared to shoot and knew the best places on the map that provided the best offensive spots while also staying protected.

  The lobby broke up and Robert left in search of another game. While waiting for the system to match him with a lobby, he received a new invite that added to the large total already accumulated in his inbox. Having not found another lobby yet, he thought “what the heck, why not?” and accepted the invitation and joined the lobby. His abilities overcame his annoying persistence in Robert’s head.

  The lobby had nine other players inside already chatting it up when Robert joined. UDiedPlaying acknowledged his entrance and they debated what game-type and settings they should use. Some wanted a shorter game, five minutes, and others want a kill-marathon: twenty minutes of non-stop attack! They settled on the middle ground of ten minutes; the countdown began, and the players were divided up into random teams. Robert was not on UDiedPlaying’s team, so this was going to be a long game for them.