seen in the game ringing in my head like distant sirens.
Level 2
The alarm goes off, waking me for school. On a typical day its incessant high pitched screaming is a dagger in my ears. This morning its tones signal salvation, rescuing me from blood soaked nightmares.
In movies and anime, the hero often takes a shower after traumatic events--a symbolic washing away of horrors. I call bull shit--it does nothing to help me feel better. At least making it cold helps to shock me into consciousness after a long night of gaming.
I step out of the bathroom. The murmur of a TV draws my attention to the closed door of my Mother’s bedroom. She must have fallen asleep with it on. She won’t wake up until I'm past second period at school. Even then, she probably won’t bother getting out of bed.
I crash on my bed and look at the gaming chair.
Why is this bugging me so much? I mean, years of gaming, I've got a virtual body count in the millions.
But none of those were in Danny Brascow's house.
And in those games, there was a purpose. Kill or be killed, kill to save the world, kill for revenge, kill some horrible Orc bard who tortures people's eardrums. Somehow it never seemed so...immoral. But maybe that's because I never felt like I was there--I was sitting in my room, staring at events on a screen that looked cool, but ultimately fake. Revelations puts you into the game. It's as close to reality as any game has ever, maybe ever will, come. I feel like I participated in a senseless murder.
It's just a game. I'm being stupid. It's just a game.
Dressed, I head downstairs for some breakfast. Dirty dishes lay piled in the sink. A check of the fridge shows the leftovers of the frozen meatloaf are gone--I'd planned to use that for lunch. Oh well, at least it means mom ate something.
I improvise lunch from deli meats that pass the sniff test and some hot dog buns that appear mould free.
On my way out I look to the chalk board we use to leave messages. The one I wrote on Monday--Mom, gone to school, work after. See you at seven.--is still there. It’s Thursday and still true. I don't bother writing it over again. I wonder if she even reads it anymore.
Outside, the sun provides an unseasonably warm and cheerful April. Maybe black jeans and a black t-shirt weren't the best choices--I'm gonna be sweating at lunch.
I appraise the front lawn--it's getting long, probably should mow it this weekend. Mom never got into shrubs or plants, so at least that's one headache I don't need to worry about.
Looking both ways, I cross to the walkway on the opposite side of the street from my house. It's my routine, to make sure I don't have to walk too close to Danny's house.
Just a game. Only a game.
The sun, bright and fresh, does more to burn away the gloom of last night than the shower managed to wash away. By the time I reach Danny’s house, I'm starting to relegate the memories of last night to a distant corner of my brain--just one more gaming death of a million.
Then I look at Danny's house.
My stomach drops so suddenly, I'm not sure whether I'm going to barf or shit myself.
Three police cars are parked in front of the house, which has been roped off with yellow tape. A group of onlookers has formed opposite the house. It's an odd blend of people who stopped while out on a jog and others in their housecoats who probably decided to have their morning coffee while gawking at the misfortune of their neighbours. I don't see any bodies being carried out on stretchers. Actually, there's no ambulance at all.
That's because they would've been here hours ago, when you and FuknDemon1 made Danny's dad shoot him.
The thought hammers against me. I can't breathe--my heart is strangling me.
Struggling to swallow my heart back down, I catch sight of the oddest onlooker. He's dressed in a grey suit. Everything about him, his clothes, his body, are clean, crisp angles. While everyone else looks to be just starting their day, he appears to have arrived ready to do business.
He looks toward me and our eyes lock. My initial reaction is too look away, not make it obvious I'm staring. But I can't move--his eyes hold mine.
And then, he smiles.
It's not a pleasant smile, or a cruel one. It's worse. It's the kind of smile so loaded with a message I can hear it--Nice job kid.
I run.
I don't stop running until I crash against my locker, my chest burning with every breath.
“Just a game. Just some random guy. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was something else, not the game--it couldn’t be the game,” I raggedly whisper to the inside of my locker.
But the more I catch my breath and look at the scenes around me, it's obvious what's happened.
Danny's cronies are wandering the halls like a pirate crew without a captain. Melanie's friends--she's Danny's sister--cling to each other, feeling the obvious grief of their friend. The halls are filled with whispers and exclamations of surprise and horror.
Later, on the announcements, they make mention of a tragedy befalling one of our fellow students and that counsellors are available to any student who wishes to talk.
It isn't until lunch, when I've eaten my entire meal, dumped my garbage in the bin, and spent another ten minutes thumbing through a strategy guide for Revelations, that I realize how my life has changed. I've made it through half a day at school without a single shove or insult. I ate my entire lunch without some stray object hitting me in the back of my head. I've spent my day feeling responsible, but what did I do? I played a video game. Whatever happened in the real world was just a coincidence. Even the creepy guy in the suit was just my head playing tricks. He probably smiled cause he figured he should try and be nice. To his mind I might've been one of Danny's friends.
Even if we somehow... I mean, I had nothing to do with the gun. I didn't even know that was going to happen.
Did the angel know? Was that her mission, to try and stop us?
I should stop being an idiot and be happy. Well, no, it'd be wrong to be happy. Even in most of my fantasies, Danny just got sent away to military camp or something. I never really wanted him dead, that would make Melanie sad. I've never wanted to see her sad. But still, my life might be just a little better.
At the convenience store where I work after school, I ring through some of Danny's friends. They don't give me a second glance. Without their leader and his personal vendetta against me, I'm just another face in the crowd to be ignored. When I walk home, I feel lighter...safer.
"Mom, I'm home."
There's no response.
A quick glance shows she’s not in the living room. Heading upstairs, the muffled sound of her TV comes through her bedroom door. I knock.
"Uh huh,” she grunts from the other side.
I push the door open.
Her floor is covered in laundry--mostly clean, I recognize it from when I put it in her room earlier this week. She's sitting on the bed, still wearing pyjamas and a robe, staring blankly at the television.
"I'm just going to cook some burgers. Do you want some?" I ask.
She shrugs.
"Ok. I'll cook some extras and put them in the fridge. You can heat them up later if you want."
She doesn't respond, just continues with her zombie stare.
I cook and I eat.
On my way upstairs, a picture on the wall catches my eye. It’s a park somewhere. Mom is smiling, the sun shining on her golden hair, holding me tight. I must've been about eight or nine in the picture. I try to remember that day, but it's from a life I closed the book on two years ago. There's too much dust on the cover to bother.
The game chair taunts me with promises of a more exciting and powerful life. I turn my back on it, pushing any thoughts of Revelations from my mind until my homework is done. In the game I have all the power to control my actions. In the real world I’m at the mercy of grades, college acceptances, and hopefully some scholarships. I'm not taking any chances flunking out of high school.
It's hard resisting the temptation of googling the events at
Danny's house. At this point, I know he's gone, but it could be the reason is completely different from what happened in the game.
But what if it isn't?
I can only allow myself to believe in so much coincidence. If I read articles saying he died from a gunshot wound inflicted by his father, I...I don't know what I would do or think. So it's best not to know.
Homework doesn't take long, leaving me with the dilemma of what to do next. Should I play Revelations? Should I risk messing up someone else's life? How is it even possible a game can do that?
It can’t. I’m being an idiot over this.
I google Revelations game.
Wikipedia gives me the shortest of short bios.
Revelations (Video Game). A North American video game developed by new independent game studio Duality Contract. Most notable for its true to life graphics and unique control system.
I scan the page. Awards, critical reception, controversy--which deals with protests over the game’s content which many parents groups called "immoral."
If they only knew.
I next google Duality Contract. There's a number of news articles about the company, but no actual website belonging to them. Odd. In fact, further scouring of the net produces only a phone number for media inquiries. Duality Contract has never produced another game, never built controllers, never done anything before the release of Revelations. As far as the internet is concerned, Duality Contract, Revelations, and the neurolinx controller all came into existence on the same day.
How does a company come out of nowhere with a game and controller like this? I
Revelation Game Page 4
