My one love in life was Chronicles of Mythos.
After a life filled with parental neglect and failed aspirations I turned to gaming. I began in earnest after a friend was constantly trounced by me in a first person called Weapon house: bloodshot. I could not calm down with after experiencing the euphoric rush caused by genuine praise.
I then dived into the world of games after watching a live stream soon amassing virtual know-how. There came a limit to watching so I aimed to get my own game rig.
Not knowing what I would excel at I asked my "father" for an assortment of devices.
A pc, a console and a virtual set. Feeling the opportunity to mitigate the pain gathered through years of neglect and abuse. My "father" got them for me, money was not a problem to my rich workaholic scientist. I had no issues like my other kids because my father believed in my Autonomy and my home tutor and himself to keep me thriving in my education.
Plus as his most successful test subject, any form of entertainment and satisfaction was a godsend to dissuade me from depression. Suicide was out of the question I learnt that the hard way on my seventh year of age.
I began playing Bloodshot because I was familiar with it.
In my debuting team match I led as Captain rank steering my squad to an overwhelming victory
Sebastian: Watch your left, one of the four on the map blipped off radar. He's using an invisibility voucher.
Teammate 4: Aaarggh, dammit! Another bunch of higher ranked jerks receiving those fraudulent priority drops
Teammate 3#: Got it! I'll spray the automatic in 15 seconds.
Sebastian: Great, I'll support you with an electric frag
Sebastian: the rest of you, we smoke grenade his teammates in 10 seconds. They might have vouchers too so take cover behind the boulder eastbound. When they fire at us pinpoint them as fast as you can and gun them down
Teammates 2 & 4: Sure thing– Count it done
In 10 seconds my second, my fourth teammate and myself threw smoke grenades at the last team. A little later my third teammate let loose while I got my frag ready, at the treeline after some point he hit the sneaking weasel. After I caught the bastard, I swiftly aligned the trajectory line, letting go of the control I chucked it at him.
Wasting no time I turned around a second later I was shot repeatedly. But with the directional indicator and my levelheaded cunning I dodged the other rounds while my other two teammates behind the boulder were using their swapped in snipers to clean up.
They killed them and I got points for my assisting shots.
We shouted over the speakers in celebration. Praise went around, when it came my way I stayed silent to avoid saying something stupid.
After reaching Commando rank I began streaming I got a luxurious following. When I decided to end I gleaned that I wasn't world class level at most a moderately talented pro.
I quit fps entirely and focused on other genres
I dabbled in strategy but that lacked a certain excitement that only implicit action could offer.
I settled for racing, fantasy and survival games.
I mostly did survival games just imagining myself getting out of this madhouse and thriving in a dangerous but exciting world freely.
Well that was ages ago now I'm twenty five and the only thing left of me are my eyes but even they are entering this torturous hell that turned my other body parts into a nebula of energy.
At least "father" was out there racing back due to the coalescing of energy destined to happen in less than a minute. For the first time in years I felt joy. Elation of successful revenge misleading that bastard to teleport to Skalis Delta space-field. I couldn't have done it if he didn't doubt his AI and I wasn't mostly energy.
If we ever met again it would be to soon. Rest in misery Thomas King!
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