Trapped in the Games Grid

by George Ivanoff

  ‘It is time for you to begin your journey.’

  If you want to walk through the door, go here.

  Or you could grab Cursor and demand to be put back into the real world. Go here.

  You grab Cursor and demand to be returned to the real world.

  Cursor stares at you with a blank expression. ‘That is not within my capabilities. Only the MCP can fulfil your request.’

  Another explosion blasts a hole right at Cursor’s feet. The two of you are teetering at the precipice. Cursor is falling over.

  It you want to let go of Cursor and run, go here.

  If you want to keep hold of Cursor and demand to see the MCP, go here.

  You shrug and set off along the path, walking past the squirrel. But as you do, the animal lets out an annoyed squeak, launches itself at your leg and nips you on the ankle.

  You kick out and the squirrel goes flying, slamming into the tree trunk it had earlier scampered from.

  You hear an ominous creak. Turning, you see the door you came through slam shut and disappear.

  Turning back, you see a cluster of squirrels gathered around the one you kicked. They help it to its feet and then glare at you. You take a nervous step forward and notice beady eyes staring at you from the branches of the surrounding trees. More squirrels.

  You take another step and an acorn hits the path in front of you. You look around warily. The squirrels are all clutching acorns, ready to attack.

  You run!

  Acorns rain down, smacking onto your head as you race along the path.

  You look up at the sound of melodious chirping. Sparrows – dozens of them – are in flight above you. As the acorns stop, the bird poop begins.

  By the time the birds have finished with you, you are dripping in droppings.

  You slow down, wiping the muck from your eyes and spitting it from the corners of your mouth.

  You stop.

  Ahead, the path is lined with porcupines, like spiky honour guards daring you to pass. In the distance beyond them is a cottage. And above the door is a glowing green sign: EXIT/ENTRANCE.

  You decide then and there that you don’t like this game. But it seems like you only have one more challenge.

  Do you face it and run for the cottage? Go here.

  Or do you give up and exit the game? Go here.

  You go through the door. Cursor follows, slamming it behind you.

  You are in a weird room full of equipment. It looks like a car-manufacturing plant, except that the machinery is all glowing in neon colours, and that whilst it is operating, it doesn’t actually seem to be doing anything. Nothing is being assembled. Pistons move and cogs turn. Levers operate mechanical arms that pick up and release nothing. Conveyor belts carry empty containers.

  ‘This is a transport station,’ says Cursor. ‘I need to set the coordinates for our destination.’

  Cursor approaches a set of controls, chunky levers, dials and switches with a glowing numerical readout, in the centre of the room. Beside it, on the floor, is a large metal disc.

  As you follow your digital guide, you reach out to a set of unmoving cogs. They spring into life, glowing brighter. You pull your hand back and they stop.

  Then you reach out towards a readout on the side of a conveyor belt. The numbers go crazy and the belt speeds up.

  You come over to Cursor, who is operating the controls, oblivious to what has just happened.

  Do you want to interrupt Cursor and recount what you’ve just done? Go here.

  Or do you keep it to yourself and let Cursor continue? Go here.

  You let go of Cursor and your guide’s shining body lights up the darkness as it plunges into the abyss.

  You run!

  Explosions go off all around. Bit by bit the landscape and the sky are blown away, replaced by a dark swirling blackness.

  You stop as the ground in front of you is blasted apart. You turn back, but there is nowhere to go. You are floating in nothingness on a small chunk of grey matter. The edge of the grey is ragged and pixelated. And as you watch, the pixels drop off, one by one.

  You try to maintain your footing, but the area is getting too small to stand on.

  As one more pixel drops away, you lose your balance and fall into the void.

  You keep hold of Cursor. As your guide topples over the edge you are pulled into the nothingness as well.

  You frantically demand to see the MCP.

  Go here.

  You let Cursor enter the coordinates uninterrupted.

  The two of you step onto the disc. Your surroundings pixelate, fade into darkness and then reform.

  You are standing in a featureless corridor. The walls are light blue. The floor and ceiling are grey. There are spider webs hanging in random spots. It looks vaguely familiar.

  ‘Ghost Hunt,’ announced Cursor. ‘You must play your way through the game.’

  Ghost Hunt. Of course! It’s a game you’ve played many times. The player is trapped in a maze, where random ghosts wander the corridors. But now you’re in there for real. You need to find the centre in order to get out.

  But which way do you go?

  If you choose left, go here.

  If you choose right, go here.

  You go right. As you and Cursor jog down the corridor, a ghost appears at the opposite end, gliding after you. It’s a transparent, green spectre of ectoplasm – a misshapen blob with large round eyes and a wide grinning mouth. It’s kind of scary!

  You break into a run. Turning the corner you see a pedestal up ahead. Upon it is an oversized golden key. That’s interesting. You don’t remember there being keys in the game. The MCP must have modified it.

  You race for the key, but as you approach another ghost materialises beyond the pedestal, whooshing down the corridor towards the key. Will you reach the key before it? You put on an extra burst of speed.

  The ghost is almost upon the key. You dive for it.

  Your hand closes around the object. The ghost is about to get you, when Cursor jumps past, slamming into the ghost. With a burst of colour accompanied by an electronic wailing sound, Cursor and the ghost disintegrate.

  You’re amazed. Cursor saved you!

  You look back. The first ghost is still heading for you. You’ve got the key, but what do you do with it?

  There’s a keyhole in the side of the pedestal. Should you use the key? But there’s not meant to be a key in the game. Maybe it’s a trick – should you break it instead?

  If you want to use the key, go here.

  If you want to snap the key, go here.

  You put your arms up to cover your face, take a deep breath and run the porcupine gauntlet.

  Screwing up their little faces in concentration, the porcupines launch their spines as you run. The needles dig into your clothes and exposed bits of skin.

  You make it past the prickly creatures, brushing off the spines as you approach the EXIT/ENTRANCE.

  As you walk through, energy crackles around you like static electricity, and the doorway is filled with lightning. Your muscles spasm. Your skin tingles. You’re stuck. You try to push through, fighting against the energy. Finally the lightning stops and you fall.

  Your eyes snap open. The suction cups fall away from your forehead. You are lying in the virtual reality chair. Your head aches.

  Well, that was weird. Now it’s time to get out of here!

  Go here.

  You tell Cursor about what just happened. Cursor seems surprised. ‘It appears you can directly manipulate the program code. Place your hand on the controls and choose your destination. You can go anywhere. Play any game. Go directly to the MCP. Or even…’ Cursor hesitates. ‘Enter the programming code itself – the binary numbers that all information is made up of.’ Then, eyes widening and head tilting to one side, Cursor says, ‘I am redundant.’

  With a crackle of energy, your guide vanishes.

  You place your hand on the controls. Now … where to go? Maybe this could get you
out of the Games Grid Matrix?

  If you want to try exiting the matrix, go here.

  Maybe it would be better to confront the MCP first, and find out what’s going on. Go here.

  Or perhaps Cursor’s suggestion of the programming code is the way to go? Go here.

  The ghost is almost upon you, its eerie howl echoing in your ears. You lift the key and snap it in two.

  The ghost disintegrates in a colourful burst of pixels. Its demise sets off a chain reaction. The walls crumble, pixels dropping off one by one.

  You turn to run, but the floor falls apart beneath you.

  As you tumble through darkness, the two halves of the key slip from your grasp.

  With a THUD, you are back in the chair.

  You disengage the suction cups from your forehead and sit up.

  The word FAIL is flashing up on one of the screens.

  ‘You have failed!’ booms an eerie electronic voice around you. ‘Welcome to the rest of your existence.’

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  ‘Nah, nah, na-nah, nah,’ teases the voice. ‘Loser!’

  A laughing face fills the screen.

  You head out of the VR room into the arcade. The game screen nearest to you lights up with the laughing face. As you walk through the arcade, game characters fill the screens, pointing and laughing at you.

  ‘Loser! Loser! Loser!’ chant the aliens on the Alien Invaders game.

  ‘My grandmother could play better than you,’ growls the dragon from the Dragon of Svartos. ‘With one claw tied behind her back.’

  The front door is unlocked, so you race home. You go to bed that night trying to convince yourself that this was all a dream.

  The next morning you try to play a game on your computer. But as soon as the game loads, all the characters fill the screen, laughing at you and chanting, ‘Loser! Loser! Loser!’

  You switch it off and try your handheld console.

  ‘Loser! Loser! Loser!’

  No matter what game you try, on whatever device, the characters are all there mocking you.

  You spend the rest of your life avoiding video games. Your parents are rather pleased.

  You go left. Jogging down the corridor, you and Cursor reach a junction. A ghost is approaching from the left, gliding towards you. It’s a transparent, green spectre of ectoplasm – a misshapen blob with large round eyes and a wide grinning mouth. It’s kind of scary!

  You break into a run down the right branch. The ghost gives chase.

  As you reach another junction, the first ghost is joined by others. You continue running, down corridor after corridor, around one corner after another, Cursor at your heels.

  Something is wrong. You’ve played this game on your computer. You’re supposed to be able to collect points that will give you a weapon – an ectoplasmic disruptor.

  You round another corner. Dead end! You peer back around. Watching the five ghosts drifting forward, you wish desperately that you had an ectoplasmic disruptor. Looking back to the dead end, there it is, tucked into the corner. How did you not see that before?

  ‘You can influence the game?’ asks Cursor. But you don’t have time to answer.

  You strap the powerpack onto your back and stand ready, disruptor rod held out in front of you. As the ghosts come gliding around the corner, you hit the power switch.

  Arcs of orange energy blast the ghosts into oblivion, their electronic death-wails echoing though the game.

  After the last ghost is dispatched, you consider your options. The object of the game is to get to the centre of the haunted house maze. But you’re not sure you want to play. You have a disruptor – perhaps you should use it to blast your way out?

  If you want to follow the rules of the game and search for the centre, go here.

  If you want to use your weapon to blast through the dead end, go here.

  The ghost is almost upon you, its eerie howl echoing in your ears. You insert the key into the keyhole and turn it.

  The ghost disappears.

  The side of the pedestal creaks open like a little door. A hand reaches out. A leg steps through. Finally, the rest of a person squeezes out. You’re surprised at how large this guy is – tall, broad, chunky. There’s no way he could have fit in such a small space.

  ‘It was a bit squishy in there,’ says the guy.

  He’s wearing red overalls with green boots, and is holding a large key as if it were a hammer. He’s bald, but has an enormous, bushy moustache with ends long enough to wrap under his chin and over his head in the most bizarre comb-over ever.

  ‘Looks like you need a locksmith,’ says the guy. ‘And it just so happens, that’s exactly what I am.’

  Locksmith? You’ve already used the key and unlocked the pedestal.

  ‘Not that kind of locksmith.’ The guy laughs. ‘I unlock potential.’

  Huh?

  ‘Not too bright, are you? Maybe I should unlock your potential for intelligence?’ He gives you a toothy grin. ‘But seriously, not even I could do that.’ He laughs again, long and loud.

  Did he just insult you?

  Wiping tears from his eyes, he finally finishes chortling. ‘Tell you what, kiddo. How about I unlock your potential to play games, so that you never lose?’

  You nod eagerly.

  The locksmith raises his key and smacks you over the head with it.

  ‘Done!’ he yells.

  You shout out, rubbing at the top of your head. You’re over this crazy dude … you just want out of the Games Grid Matrix.

  ‘Can do, kiddo,’ says the locksmith, raising his key again.

  You duck and cover your head. The locksmith looks at you strangely.

  ‘I’m unlocking the Games Grid Matrix,’ he says. ‘I don’t need to hit you over the head for that.’

  You lower your arms and stand tall. The locksmith grins at you and whacks the key into your stomach. You double over, eyes closed, as the wind is knocked out of you.

  Furiously, you open your eyes and sit up.

  You’re in the virtual reality chair in the restricted area. You’re out of the matrix.

  You whip out your mobile phone, ready to call you parents. But then you get a better idea. You go behind the front counter and find Mr Kudou’s phone number. He comes to let you out, puts you in a taxi to get home and then yells at you to stay away from his arcade. Your parents never need to find out what happened to you.

  You wonder if the locksmith really did unlock your games potential. You decide to put it to the test. You dare all your family and friends to a games challenge. You win every game, even beating your dad at Alien Invaders.

  You enter the Local Video Games Challenge … and win!

  You enter the National Video Games Challenge … and win!

  You enter the World Video Games Challenge … and win!

  You win tonnes of money. You’re given your own television series about video games. You even get to tour the world giving speeches about how you’re unbeatable.

  For the rest of your life, you win every game you ever play!

  But where’s the challenge in that?

  You decide to exit the Games Grid Matrix.

  You are suddenly encased in a tube of light, as a disc of crackling energy descends above you. Once the disc passes through you, your muscles spasm and your skin tingles. You feel the energy changing you again.

  You find yourself back in the virtual reality chair. The suction cups fall away and you jump to your feet.

  Well, that was weird.

  You decide it’s time to leave. You head back into the arcade and to the front door. But, of course, it’s locked.

  You glance around, looking for another way out. There’s a ventilation grille in the ceiling above the front counter. You could climb through that – it’s bound to lead outside.

  Or you could use your mobile phone to ring your parents.

  If you want to be adventurous and make your way out through the ventilation, go here.r />
  But if you’ve had enough, just call your parents. Go here.

  Your hand on the controls, you decide to see the programming code.

  With a crackle of energy, you find yourself in a blank landscape, sequences of ones and zeros gliding through the air. Binary numeric code. This is how information is stored in the Games Grid Matrix.

  In the distance you see a massive conglomeration of numbers. They form structures of various sizes, from boxes to towers. It’s a numerical city.

  You are distracted by a line of numerals floating right past you.

  01001000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111

  You reach out. As your fingers brush the numbers they transform into letters to read HELLO, and then back again.

  As the numbers glide away, you wonder if you should follow them.

  If you want to pursue the numbers, go here.

  But maybe you should head for the numerical city instead? Go here.

  You’ve had enough of this game. Aiming the ectoplasmic disruptor, you blast through the dead end wall. As the smoke clears, you step over the rubble into a land of vibrant green, punctuated by silver and gold structures. Above you, crisscrossing strands of wire fill the sky.

  ‘We are at the outer edge of the Borderlands,’ explains Cursor. ‘Beyond is the De-Rez Sea, at the centre of which is the Island of Security Protocols. There lies the Castle of Containment, which is where the alien is held captive. Above us is the MCP’s Intra-Web of information.’

  You look across the landscape. You can’t even see a castle. How far is it?

  You glance back. Any trace of the Ghost House game is gone. You realise that the ectoplasmic disruptor has also disappeared.