End Game: A Gamer Romance

by Swallow, Lisa

  “You spend time killing dragons with your friends almost every night at the moment! Spend some time in the real world again, you need to. Just a couple of drinks and a movie.”

  I rearrange items on my desk, which don’t need rearranging. “I’m not killing dragons.” I sigh at her ‘who cares’ face. “Who’ll be there tonight?”

  “Aha! Is this because ‘he who must not be named’ might be there?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Yes. One drunk night in his bed and you behave like he’s stolen your honour. What’s with you? We all make mistakes.”

  “One lapse of judgement and too much alcohol, and I succumbed. I’m embarrassed. This is why I don’t go to parties.”

  “You were pretty drunk,” she says with a smile. “You danced around the room drinking from a bottle of Alizé Bleu shouting ‘I have a mana potion’ until you tripped over.”

  I rub my forehead and cringe at the memory.

  Erin sits on the edge of my unmade bed. “You were drunk but you did give consent, right?”

  I flush red. “Not only did I give consent but I was the one pulling his clothes off first. No unconscious intoxication on my part.” Erin blinks at me but fights laughing. “Stop it! It’s not funny.”

  “Sorry, Evie, but it is.”

  “Who do you think knows about what happened between us?”

  “No idea. Probably me, you, him, and whoever he’s bragged to.“ She wrinkles her nose. “And most people probably guessed, since your faces were glued together for an hour, and then you left.”

  Ugh. “Exactly! I’m keeping a low profile until this blows over. I don’t like finger-pointing and sniggering.”

  A cough echoes into my ears and blood draws from my face at the next words. “Your mic’s open, Sin.”

  Oh, holy mother of crap. I click over to the list of names using voice chat. Eight people in the guild are connected—and listening; some who don’t know me beyond the game, and now know a very different side of me.

  Such as Thorsday. I hold my head in my hands.

  “Did you hear all that?” I whisper.

  Snorting laughter continues.

  “You bloody bastards!”

  “You were talking in public.”

  “You kept quiet though, you should’ve spoken so I’d know you could hear.”

  “Sorry, not sorry,” says Tyler. “Who is this guy? Someone I know? Does he play?”

  “Obviously,” laughs out Cole.

  “Screw you,” I snap back.

  “Tetchy.”

  “Kinda makes my naked dancing look tame, Evie.”

  “Stop. We need Sin for the raid, don’t piss her off or she might leave,” Cole says.

  Exactly. Mind made up, I yank off my headphones and close the game, heart thumping with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. I love these guys, and the majority of the time they treat me no differently to each other. Half of them play female characters online and the sexism either misses my ears or is saved from when I’m not playing. Talking about my sexual conquests in front of them…uh, not good.

  “I didn’t hear what the guys said, but hopefully it makes you want a drink?” Erin gives me a light shove towards the doorway as I stand. “Change into something else.”

  A text hits my phone in seconds. Tyler begging me to log back on and raid, guilt-inducing comments about letting them down for a second night. Assurances nothing else will be said about my indiscretions.

  “I have to stay,” I say to her and myself. I don’t know who this Thorsday guy is, but I need to show the guild I’m committed and they should hand me my bloody role back.

  Erin huffs loudly and stomps out of the room shouting comments about how I should talk to a professional about my addiction.

  I log back on with a bright hello. One comment about my other extra-curricular activity and I’m gone.

  “Was that Erin?” asks Cole.

  “Yes. “

  “Who’s she going out with?”

  “No idea. I can’t remember.”

  “Right.”

  “So, you raiding or not, Evie?” interrupts Tyler.

  “One word about…it and I’ll log straight off. I don’t care if we’re fighting when I do and you need my heals. You can all die horribly.”

  “I know a healer if you don’t want to raid,” says Thorsday. “You obviously don’t.”

  “I’m a part of this team,” I say in a cold tone. “Are you?”

  *

  Our characters meet outside the grey, castle-like building stretching into an orange sky: Elf, Human, Dwarf, and Hobgoblin. I recognise my friends’ avatars and the new one: human, blond hair, and admittedly impressive armour, who stands nearby.

  I laugh and take a swig of Red Bull. He really is trying to make himself look like his namesake; this world is a bigger fantasy for some than others. Thorsday takes over with a run down on our strategy for tonight. Does he think he’s in charge after one night helping the guild?

  Begrudgingly, I admit to myself that with his help, the guild made progress towards the end game last night. But that doesn’t give him the right to change everything; I don’t like change and I hate not feeling in control. Adding somebody else into the team disrupts my safe world, never mind that he’s also elbowed his way into a key position. Mine.

  He’d better be as bloody good as they say.

  We step through the portal and the music increases with dramatic effect as we prepare for an evening of battle. I move towards Thorsday, as close as my avatar can.

  Show me what you have that’s so impressive then, I type as a ‘whisper’ so only he can see.

  There’s a pause before he types a whisper back, Don’t worry, I will.

  3

  I rest my elbows on the shop counter and stare at the boxes of stock that need unpacking. Sam, my manager, crosses the shop, negotiating the maze of cluttered shelves and clothing racks. The middle-aged woman waves a hand in front of my face.

  “Evie, move your ass.”

  “I don’t know where you want everything,” I say, gesturing at the shelves. “I’m confused since you rearranged the store.”

  She sighs and points. “T-shirts—there. I want the new Berserk dresses close to the front, and add one in the window display. Please.”

  Blowing air into my cheeks, I grab a Stanley knife and cut the packaging tape from a box. Inside, a new range of game-branded clothing beckons temptingly at me.

  “And check everything is accounted for before you do,” she reminds me.

  Three years working here, I think I know how to do a bloody stock check. I don’t reply, because opinions aren’t something I share much outside the game. I don’t speak up when I should, unless it’s to my friends. For instance, when I wanted the store’s manager role I didn’t have the guts to apply, and instead the old owner passed the mantle to his wife’s, dog’s friend, or whoever Sam is.

  Sam started last week and she’s nice enough, but the whole situation stuck my life under a magnifying glass; one focusing the sun’s power and lighting a fire under me. I need to move on.

  I’m working a job with no prospects, one I took because I had no clue what else to do with my life. I originally intended to save to travel, but that was an epic fail since I moved out of home and spend way too much time and money on things I shouldn’t. I’ve tried to rein in my spending but my self-control fails around clothes and electronics. My new computer last month ate most of my savings.

  I eye the newest dress, adorned with zombie unicorns, and my self-control fails as I squeeze my eyes closed and attempt to picture the last onscreen balance for my bank account. It wasn’t unhealthy, more like on the critical list. But with my staff discount, I can afford this, right?

  The door beeps as somebody walks into the shop’s tight space; I crane my neck over the Doctor Who display. Tyler holding two takeaway coffees. Until a year ago, we stood nose to nose if I were in heels, thanks to my height. Now I joke to him he took growth hormones
, as he’s several inches taller. Bulkier too—more muscular and broader across the chest.

  Watching my friends grow up from primary school to teens to twenties has been weird, especially seeing them change from boys to men. Physically, anyway.

  “Hey, Evie.” He holds up the coffee. “Brought you this. Can you take a break?”

  I incline my head to where Sam disappeared into the stock room, then kick the box in front of me. “Not really, unless you want to help me count those.”

  The t-shirts and hoodies catch his interest and he thrusts both cups at me. “Ooh, cool. The new Jinx line?”

  “Yes.”

  His blue eyes brighten. “Shut up and take my money! They’re limited edition, right?”

  “Uh. Not sure.”

  Tyler drags a tee from the box and shakes it. “New game expansion in a month! I am so going to play a Hobgoblin Assassin.”

  He folds the tee—or attempts to—and places the item on the counter nearby. “Mine.”

  “Thanks for stopping by, nice to see a friendly face.” I place the cups down. “But surely you’re not that bored. Thought you’d be online all day.”

  “Nah. I was at a D&D afternoon with some mates and thought I’d see how you were going. You’ve been quiet online recently.”

  I turn away and sip the coffee. For the last two weeks, the guild’s been railroaded by the Hemsworth wannabe, who unfortunately knows his shit and strategises better than our old raid leader, Tyler, ever did. Thorsday doesn’t speak to me much, but that’s mutual. Silent grudge holding is a speciality of mine.

  “A lot on my mind,” I say, then lower my voice. “Might be looking for another job.”

  “Why? You’re not getting laid off, are you?” he whispers. “You’re my supplier. Who do I need to cozy up to for the staff discounts now?”

  I elbow him. “Cheeky! No I’m stuck and going nowhere, Tyler. I need to rethink what I want.”

  “Serious life choices, huh? Why don’t you try and get onto a graphic design course or something? You know you’re good.”

  When I’m not gaming, I can be found producing fan art I never show people, apart from anonymously online uploaded to sharing sites. I create my own style based on a mix of fantasy art and the Japanese comic book style art, manga. Tyler’s seen some and since then he’s attempted to persuade me to pursue the idea into a job. “Studying and working at the same time? No thanks.”

  “Yeah, s’pose.” He rubs his face. “So, about the guild…”

  “I knew it! What’s happening?”

  “Just with the dynamic changing, I wasn’t sure you’re happy. Not gonna leave us, are you?”

  And give Thorsday the pleasure of edging me out? “No. I’m okay. Most of you are cool. Besides, I know a lot of you in real life and it would be awkward if I ‘rage quit’.”

  Tyler turns away and flicks through a stack of trading cards on the counter. “Last few times we raided, Thor died more than everybody else.”

  “And?”

  “We kinda wondered whether that was deliberate. You not healing him.” He focuses on the Pokémon packet, refusing to look at me.

  I blink back my indignation and throw some snark his way instead. “No, I’m just a shit healer. I guess I should go back to damage or just leave, huh?”

  “Evie, don’t be like that.”

  “Is that what Thor said to you? I know he doesn’t think much of me, or me of him, but I’m not that petty.”

  “Kind of…”

  “Sorry, but my priority is healing Cole. He takes the most damage and keeps the mobs off the group. He needs to stay alive, otherwise we all die. One Paladin dead is better than the whole team.”

  “Yeah, I said that to him. I’ll sort this, even if it means telling Thor to switch roles instead.”

  I poke my tongue into a cheek. We’ve made better progress with Thorsday taking over my damage role, and I really want a shot at the Fabled armour loot, from the last dragon boss we need to kill to complete the dungeon. “It’s all good. I bow to his superiority.”

  Tyler purses his lips for a moment until I shake my head with a smile. “Kidding. I’m sure once we drop the animosity me and Thorsday will get along fine. We got off to a bad start is all.”

  “Nice. Well. You coming out tonight?”

  This, I’ve debated all week. Marshall could be there, and I’m pissed off over his behaviour since the other night. I didn’t expect him to lavish me with attention, but not calling me hurts. I can’t believe I fell for his crap.

  “Is everybody going?” I ask.

  “The whole guild. A rare get-together.”

  “Apart from Thor.”

  “Yeah, I meant the Perth crew. I doubt he’ll fly in from Sydney to see us, however awesome we are.”

  “So, he’ll be all alone online.” I sniff and mock wiping a tear from my face. “But he’s so incredible he can solo kill Syden; the boss stands no chance against his leet skills.”

  “There you go again! What’s with you and him?”

  “You know I don’t like anybody with a superiority complex. I bet he has a girlfriend who nags him all the time—or lives with parents still—and tries to get power from telling us what to do.”

  Tyler shakes his head. “Maybe if you weren’t snarky with him he wouldn’t tease you.”

  “Huh.” I pick up the tee and thrust it at him. “Conversation over. Yes, I’ll come tonight if you promise not to spend all evening talking about the guild, and how awesome your new man crush is.”

  Tyler leaves and, as I sort through the stock, I consider our conversation. Players came into the guild before and shuffled the team around, and this never bothered me to the extent Thorsday’s arrival has. Yes, we continue to rub each other up the wrong way, but deep down I need to acknowledge the problem runs deeper.

  First, a new manager at work throws a curveball at my real life. Then, Mr. Hemsworth waltzes in, bringing arrogance and attitude in his backpack and tramples over the certainty in my safe online world. The place I escape to is no longer in my control exactly when I need it to be.

  4

  Erin complains we’ll be late as I pick through my clothes. Working where I do allows me a wardrobe filled with dresses I rarely wear. Do I attempt to prettify myself, or should I dress down in an ‘I’m not trying to impress anyone’ way? I vote for the latter. A tee and jeans are still slung over a chair from the last time I left the house in the evening. That was two days ago, when I decided pj pants and an old shirt—also looking suspiciously like nightwear—weren’t suitable attire for a trip to the nearby cafe with Erin. The tee and jeans will work.

  I brush my thick hair into a ponytail and slick on lip gloss, then walk through to my impatient friend.

  She shakes her head. “You took that long to get ready and that’s what you’re wearing? Didn’t you buy another of your weird dresses the other day? Where is it?”

  “I did but I don’t want to wear the dress yet.”

  “Then what’s the point in buying?” She taps her teeth. “Well, anything looks good compared to your sweatpants, I suppose. Let’s go.”

  We’ve visited our weekend haunt for years—from drinking here when underage with false ID until the twenty-somethings we are now. This meant eighteenth birthdays had to be celebrated elsewhere, but the staff in the small bar change so often we never came under any real scrutiny. Only Erin and me were underage, although Tyler came occasionally too. As they’re a couple of years older, Cole, and Erin’s brother Kai, had no issues, although Kai kept a close eye on his sister when she was around. In recent months, Kai’s travelled overseas, and is headed away again soon, so we rarely see him. Tonight is a rare appearance.

  The latest refurbishment rewound the establishment to the pictures I’ve seen of the place in the 1970s, which I don’t quite understand. Retro is retro, but this is odd. The day they started serving weird cocktails in jars, plus ‘boutique’ aka ‘fancy names and fancy prices’ beers, was the day I realised my di
sconnect from my so-called peers. What exactly is wrong with drinking from proper glasses?

  The whole time we sit in the bar, I’m in two minds whether to leave. Erin spends the evening staring wistfully at the man-bunned barman. Wistful? Well, more like salivating. Cole sits with us, chatting to Spencer. I half-listen as I check prices on the game’s trading house on my phone app. The price of herbs jumped recently and is screwing up my in-game market domination.

  “Pardon?” I look up as Erin speaks. “What herbs?” she asks.

  “Oh.” Did I say that out loud? “Nothing.” I incline my head towards the hottie behind the bar. “Is he next on the list?”

  “I do not have a list, I’m just particular.”

  “How did the latest date go?”

  Erin picks up her drink. “Didn’t you see my Facebook post yesterday?”

  “No.” ‘Erin’s Adventures in Tinder Land’ became a regular feature recently, names changed to protect the innocent, as she shares details of her disastrous dates.

  “What was wrong with this guy?”

  “He wouldn’t stop showing me pictures of his cats. I’m allergic to cats—and to weirdos who have six and spend the whole evening talking about nothing else but their feline antics.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “I climbed out of the window in the hallway.” Erin sips her orange cocktail from the mason jar and continues her scrutiny of the new barman.

  “What the…? Why?”

  “He would’ve seen me if I went through the restaurant’s front door.”

  I blink at her matter-of-fact tone. “Why didn’t you use the back exit? Surely the place has one.”

  She rubs her lips with an index finger. “Oh. Yeah. Didn’t think about that.”

  People often point me out as odd, but Erin’s cut from the same cloth. Her capacity to find herself in awkward situations is incomparable. She spends a lot of time floating around in a world nobody else belongs in, or understands. I’m unsure if common sense exists in there.

  Not that I can criticise another person for living in a fantasy world.

  Cole side glances us at the conversation and purses his lips. “What did he do when he found you’d gone?”