Video Games and Sanctuaries

Note: This is very rough. I'm posting this more for critique rather than showing a finished work. If you want to critique punctuation errors that is fine, but I'm' more looking for a critique of the story. I'm going out of town so I won't have time to write, but I want to see how this story is going so far before I continue with it. I'm reading over it now and am already cringing (punctuations errors, awkward sentences), etc., so I'm sure you will find something wrong with it. ; )


*****

It is January 8th, 1990. Mark is 5 years old. Dave pushed him off the swing set again. Dave was always mean to Mark, and it makes him so angry cause daddy and mommy don't do anything about it. His daddy gave him a Super Nintendo cause the kids were mean to him today. The kids were mean to him all the time. Mommy says it wasn't a good idea, cause it can rot your brain. Mark didn't care much about the Super Nintendo. He needed to find a way to beat the bully. He wasn't the biggest or even the smartest. But there had to be someway, someway he could beat him.

*****


"Ha, got you again. You didn't stand a chance.", Mark says into his headset. Mark always made sure they heard him after every death. He controlled his character with the keyboard while aiming with the mouse. His computer screen turns a shade of red, showing he is taking damage. Once a player has been shot at, the chances of being the victor were near impossible. Mark jerks his mouse to turn his character and aims his reticle at the opponent's face. He decapitates his opponent's head. Yes!


After a game of Aftershock the players who played at the same game can meet at the "lobby", where they can simultaneously hear each other after the game. As always, the names of most of the players left the computer screen, because no one wants to hear the winner taunting through a headset. Everyone was gone except one player, DarkHeart6969; the one that Mark made fun of earlier.

"Get a life", says the player. Before Mark could respond the player left the lobby with the rest. Whatever, thought Mark, you probably play just as much as I do.

Mark started another game before his door opened. "Mom, what are you doing?", he says. "I can't concentrate when you barge in here."

"What am I doing? Mark you've been playing that game for 8 hours straight!"

He dies. "See what you made me do", yelled Mark. Now he had to wait 12 seconds for his character to "respawn". In Aftershock the game keeps score by the amount of kills you make. The first one to 25 kills wins the game. If you die in Aftershock your character comes back to life, but only after being penalized for 12 seconds. In this game every second counts; it could be the difference between last and first.

"This is my last game for an hour I swear." says Mark, voice slightly raised.

"And what about tomorrow. Another 8 hours, 12 hours, 18 hours?", Mark could see tears begin to form in his mom's eyes, but Mark found it difficult to feel any empathy for her. Mark swears it has been difficult to relate to people since he began his teens, even though his mom swears it all started when he got addicted to games. Mark isn't sure who was right. He doesn't remember many memories of his past life outside of gaming. The gaming world was much better than the real one.

His character dies again. "Mom, go!", he says in the same tone. He heard his slam. Mark was frustrated. It was because of his parents racket that his kill/death ratio has been a little lower. For years his mom has left him to his games, but the last two weeks she has been bugging him to go out, meet new people, "socialize". Life was better when they just left him alone. The conversation behind his bedroom wall distracted him from the game. "What do you want me to say?", he heard. "Just talk to him"

The door opened again. This time it was his father. "Hey there son", he said.

Mark didn't respond. He was now two kills behind first place and needed to win the game. There was no room for error, and certainly no room for conversation.

"Look I uhh... I have two tickets to the basketball game, if you want to come. Lakers versus the Bulls. You know the Lakers right? Of course you do. They used to be your favorite"

Mark continued to ignore him. Now one kill away from first.

"Mark?"

Now he was irritated, "Look dad, I don't think I can make it. I'm a little busy, can't you tell?"

Even though Mark couldn't see his dad, he knew he was beginning to leave the room. The door closed behind him. "Wow, you put up a real fight; what the hell was that?", he heard his mom say from the other side of the wall. "Mary, that boy is hopeless, I'm getting a drink" The heard steps going upstairs as the conversation began to fade away. Mark didn't care. His parents may have shunned him, but in Aftershock, he was a god.

Mark slammed his mouse on the table. The game was over, one player got 25 kills before he did. In the lobby, Mark made sure they knew why he lost, "Your so lucky my parents walked in Pyro" Pyro4124's name had a speaker icon beside it, which showed that his mic was on. Mark heard a group of people laughing. Pyro had friends with him.

"How old are you kid, 16-17?", said Pyro.

"I'm 24, what does it matter to you?"

Pyro's speaker icon flashed and this time there was a roar of laughter from Mark's earpiece, which sounded like a group of four to five people. He could make out faint background noises coming from Pyro's mic. It sounded like, "Get a job", and "Move out, loser", and "Leave, this guy isn't worth it" They left the lobby before Mark could react. They always do.

*****

It is February 14th, 1999. Mark is 14 years old.

"Look", says Lona as she closes her locker. "I'm just not interested"

"Wait", he says, "Don't walk away, what do you want me to do, I'll...I'll do anything"


*****

He played for another hour before the door opened again. This time the person (people?) had the decency to come in before the game started. He turned, and saw Ryan. Mark jumped out of his seat and smiled; he hadn't seen Ryan in almost 3 years.

"Hey buddy", Ryan smiled back, but it didn't look sincere. It looked sad.

"Hey", he said. Ryan was wearing an expensive black suit with a red tie, and in his hand rested a black business suitcase. He used to have a mopped-shaped haircut was now shaved, and the used-to-be shy sloucher now stood straight, with an air of confidence. After the greeting Mark just stood there, unsure of what to say next. It felt like forever since he had a real conversation.

"Your not going to leave me hanging, are you?", Ryan had his hand in air, like a college frat boy waiting for his bro to return his shake. [i]Damn social cues, how long was it up there? [/i] "Ohh, of course not. Wasn't paying attention", he forced a laugh, and stretched out his arm. Ryan's brought his hand down to greet him, and Mark awkwardly gripped back in return. Ryan slapped the back of Mark's shoulder with his other arm. Its been a while since Mark had any human touch, outside of family members. It felt unnatural.

"It been a long time", said Ryan, this time the smile was sincere.

"Too long...", he said, still thinking of something else to say.

His old friend nodded his head and looked down at his hand. Mark must have been holding on to it for too long, because Ryan gently pulled away from Mark's grip.

"Hey, you remember The Ark at Pharr Park?" said Ryan, saving them from another moment of awkward silence.

"How could I forget?" Pharr Hills was an amusement park Ryan and he went to when they were in their early teens. In there was a ride called The Ark, a 20 story narrow arch that resembled a giant half of a McDonalds logo. It was like a bungiecording, only instead of bouncing up and down you swung between the arch like a pendulum. It was the only ride you had to pay for, and the only ride that didn't have a line. One day they went there for a school field trip, and no one in school had the balls to ride it. No one except Mark, who was dared to do it by Ryan. It was the most exilerating moment of his life, and one of his favorite, outside of Aftershock. After that day, Mark was actually considered one of the cool kids in school. But only for a couple of weeks, you don't stay a cool kid long if you can't hold a conversation. While everyone quickly stopped talking to him, the one person that stayed his friend was Ryan.

"Or how about that time at Rockside Road and the football players", Mark chimed. "You showed them didn't you"

"Of course I did. I wasn't going to let them pick on my best friend", said Ryan while nudging him with his elbow. Ryan was always there when they were growing up.

His only friend sighed, face looking sad again. "Look Mark, your mom sent me here, she's worried. And frankly, so am I."

Mark looked out his basement door and finally noticed his mom sitting at the stairs. Mark scowled, "What is this, an intervention?"

"You can call it that", says his friend.

"Ryan is a big-time financial adviser now", his mom said.

So what? And I'm jobless, thought Mark. Was that what you trying to imply?

"Look, lets not worry about trying to get a job right now.", said Ryan as he points his hand towards the computer. "Lets worry about this" He then turns to Mark's mom. "Is it alright if we have a moment alone?"

"Take all the time you need", said his mom. There was a sound of footsteps after the door closed, and Mark knew that their conversation was now private.

Ryan pulled out a metal foldable chair that rested near Mark's Collectible Aftershock poster.

"Be careful not the scratch that", said Mark.

"What, the chair?"

"The poster"

Ryan shook his head as he unfolded the chair and sat down.

"Look my friend, you've always been a strange fella, and thats why I like you, but this...", he waves his hand towards the shelf packed with Aftershock memorbilia "...this is something different. This is not the Mark I know. This is not just an addiction..."

"I can quit whenever I want"

Ryan ignored his interruption and said, "This is not just an addiction, this is an obsession. Your mom tells you haven't been out of this basement for months, except to grab shit out of the refrigerator. Your getting worse my friend, and I didn't even think it was possible when I last saw you 3 years ago. You have a shower right here in your basement, and you smell like you have used it in a month."

Mark was hurt, "I thought you were my friend"

"I am your friend. Thats why I'm here now."

"If you were such a friend why haven't I seen you in over three years?"

Ryan got up out of his seat, "Maybe I didn't want to see you wasting your life away on that damn computer. I left because I couldn't stand the sight of my friend kill himself slowly day after day playing some stupid game. I was there Mark! A year before I left I came over everyday and all you did was play computer games, talk about computers games, joke about computer games. I saw you gradually become more reclused with each passing day. I begged you to go outside, get a job, a new fucking hobby. Hell, I even forced you out one time. It was a new game then wasn't it?"

"Crimson Fury"

"Yes, and what will you do when this game gets old. Buy another one and start your cycle all over again?"


They stood there quiet. It was Ryan that broke the silence, "Look, the firm I am working for has a job open. It's a custodial job but it will get you on your feet. I gave them a reccomendation, and you can come live with me and my fiancee for a short time until you can support yourself. I talked to her and shes fine with that. I suggest you take it for now."

"And what if I say no." It was now Mark that got up from his seat. " Have you ever thought that this is the one thing that makes me happy?"


"That is sad"

"Screw you Ryan. You want to know how I'm doing? I'll tell you. I'm fine. I'm content. I don't need your support, or your job, or your pity. I'm an adult now. So take comfort in the fact that I no longer need to be your burden. The only reason why you were ever friends with me in the first place was because you felt sorry for me!"

Ryan's jaw clenched . This was the first time he has seen him angry at Mark. "That's not true.", he said.

Mark faced his chair towards the computer screen, and sat down, back facing his friend. There was a part of him that wished Mark kept his equanimity, because at least then he would be sure that his friend's retort was not a lie.

He placed the mouse on the pad, then clicked on the box that said 'Start Game'. He looked at the all too familiar 'choose a game' menu on the computer screen. He knew every detail of it. The monitor showed a blue template, with game selections on the upper right quadrant, and customizable options on the lower left. On the right side there was a 'return to main menu' button on the bottom corner, but the rest this side was just filler space, showing a animated yet subtle background that looked almost like flowing water. Most people overlooked this side, but Mark always noticed it. He noticed everything in this game, even the trivial things. He knew everything about Aftershock, but he barely knew his friend. He sighed and said, "Have you ever felt that you were so disconnected from everyone else..." He wouldn't understand, he thought. "Have you ever felt so out of place in the world, that you felt like you had more in common with a video game than you do with people? Tell me now, and don't lie. Give me some hint that some out there, knows how lonely it is, to have more in common with a game than with people."

Ryan flinched his head back. It was subtle, but Mark noticed it. Mark may not have know people well, but one thing he knew, that his "friend" in his fancy black suit and red tie, so comfortable with himself and others, could not relate at all. "No", he said. "No, I guess I don't"

The loading screen appeared on his monitor, signaling that a new game was starting. "You know where the door is Ryan", he said as he turned on the screen. "And this time, when you leave, don't bother coming back"

He figured his friend was still in the room as he started to play. There was a sound of footsteps over the clicking of his mouse, and he knew his former friend was gone. That was the last time he ever saw him.

*****

Mark finished his game after Ryan left. The text message appeared, as it did with every other game, that said, "Would you like to be play another game." Mark hovered the mouse arrow over the 'yes' button, then hesitated. "Maybe I can have a break", he thought.

He left his chair and went towards the his window, a small rectangular glass he could barely fit his head through. He felt a light gust of wind as he pushed it open. It was his only window to the outside world. Through the open window he could see upper-middle class suburbia, green grass, neighbors walking on the sidewalks with their dogs, and the typical white picket fences. To most this would be the American Dream, but to Mark it was just another world he didn't belong in. They all look so happy, he thought. He closed his window.

He turned to face the shelf built into his basement wall. It was, of course, decorated in Aftershock memorabilia, action figures, posters, trophies from tournaments, and with other novelty items from his past obsessions as well. On the top shelf rested his prized possession, a rare collector's Hoplite-117 soldier, worth tens of thousands of dollars to the avid collector. It represented the Aftershock character played in multiplayer, standing 1 1/2 feet, dressed in green battle armor and holding the AAR-Battle Rifle. He won it a year ago in a national online tournament (which he of course played at home).

He looked at the rest of his basement. Even though it could fill two master bedrooms, the only decorations were his collector's shelf, the TV, his bed, a small window, the bathroom, the computer, and a ton of empty space. Nothing special, he thought. My life's work, a bunch of nothing. He walked towards his shelf to take one last look at his prized model. It was collecting a little dust. He rubbed it off with his hand, the metallic armor cold to the touch. He smiled.