We all know this setup, right? The super-futuristic virtual reality MMO slash theme park, the kind Ernest Cline wrote about and then Spielberg made into that godawful movie. Well, guess what? When you get the brightest and best minds from Blizzard, Sony and Nintendo in a room, that shit's inevitable. And it happens fast, lemme tell you that. The first build for Moebius only rolled out five years ago, and it's only gotten bigger since.
My name? Look that up yourself. My Creds are right there. That's 'credentials', by the way - name, age, gender, world location. Guess the way to solve online identity shit was to throw up your hands and go 'fuck it'. But it's easer to go by my handle - Wolf. Trust me, that'll make sense later.
I started like anyone else did - a casual. Got the start-up kit as a Christmas present. Nothing fancy - tactile feedback gloves, standard visor, motion tracking pad. And for a while? That was enough. The novelty of instantly going into fantasy land made up for all the shortcomings. Okay, so I was really in the basement fumbling around with subpar equipment. But at the push of a button, I could go from flying in outer space to fighting pirates on the high sea. It was amazing.
When I began, I did what I imagine tourists do in a new country. I wandered around, got mixed up in shit, took part in things I barely comprehended. I went on a few raids, got some kills, made some bucks. Died a lot, too. I was pretty pathetic at first, with no idea about stats or weapon specialisation, so anyone could wipe the floor with me. I only got traction when I dug my heels in and got decent at duel handguns, but I still hadn't a dime's worth of a clue.
Then I met Asuka.
God, I know that sounds so fucking cliché. Innocent flower meets snarky vet, romance sparks. But sit your ass back down, because that happened.
We met on the Killing Fields. That's the big PVP server, but unofficially we call it the Meat Grinder. It's where you go to rack up kills and hoover up Moebits - the game's currency. It got the name because you throw yourself in over and over, adding to the pile of virtual corpses until you get a lucky streak. And then you log out with your hard-earned cash before you get shanked by some smart-ass griefer or a pro who's been playing since open beta. It's mad, it's wild, and it's a lot more fun than Vegas.
So there I was, about to get my ass handed to me by a thirty-five year old man from Kentucky. And then this blur of white and red flashes past, and the brick shithouse he's picked for an avatar is lying at my feet. I must have stood there for like five seconds, looking like the stupidest motherfucker in the room. A miracle nobody saw me and ganked me. Then I turn around and see this thing that looks like it walked out of a bad anime. Skinny, short black hair, fox mask, massive fuckoff katana that would break a real person's wrist.
We stare at each other for ten seconds.
Then she speaks, and she spoke English so well it was hard to tell she was Japanese.
"Need some help?"
The best response I could manage was "Er, sure."
"Great! I'm Asuka, by the way!"
And then she taught me how to pop a guy in the head from ten yards off. It was magic.
