Game Over

You're All Talk

"Here he is.." A voice said, soft but audible, almost reverent. The speaker, a young programmer, began to move the camera angle around the character on screen. "Deviant is a go." The aforementioned man sat up against a flag pole, hair blowing in digital wind. He propped his arm up on a bent knee, the very picture of casual. He then tilted his head back, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. They were all actions written in code of what he would do if he sat idly for more than a minute.
"What about the others? Are they active yet?" Another of the designers asked.
The first voice spoke again. "Not quite. They still have pretty big motion bugs." The programmer sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again. "Let's take a lunch break." The second programmer agreed and left the room. The first touched the screen. "Don't worry. We'll get you a home soon."
She could've sworn she saw Deviant nod and smile. She concluded she'd been working too long and only imagined the smile playing at his lips. She left the room. Deviant walked around the empty space, save for the beginnings of a desert landscape. He hummed quietly, taking up his place at his flagpole again.
Over the next several weeks and months, his home was drawn in. There were tents, suitably dirty but splashed with black paint. There were flags stuck in the ground, painted with white, ornate stars. Deviant had it all to himself, all the weapons and food that spawned randomly. He was content- not happy, no, but content this way when someone named Destroyer came to join him. It was nice to have someone to talk to, especially now that he'd been given a voice. He and Destroyer would walk the camp, talking and laughing when the game program was inactive, when they were left in the quiet desert without programmers making sure Destroyer didn't glitch into things or speak in jumbled syllables. Even if he did that sometimes, Deviant didn't mind. The companionship was worth helping him out of a glitchy spot or asking him to repeat himself.
Destroyer was perfect by the time beta testing was to start, as were the other two members who joined them soon after. They would sit around the campfire, all four of them, knowing that the times of peace would be over soon after. Mystic, the very last of the "Wild Ones", brought tales of a new religion that was apparently the enemy of the game. He had overheard from the developers that the organization was called F.E.A.R, and to defeat them was how to win. Mere days later, a towering Gothic church appeared far in the distance and hours after that, shadowy figures would materialize.
"Everyone's so hyped for this." The main programmer smiled, gazing lovingly upon the landscape. "I can't wait for it to go out. Everything is so perfect."
Deviant listened to the praise. People were excited to see his world? To play his game? Weird.
Soon, but oddly not soon enough, the very first copies of F.E.A.R: The Story of the Wild Ones were sent out. When the developers left one evening, Deviant decided to go from the main copy to one of the beta copies. The overture at the beginning played and the title sequence took place after a moment of loading. He waited off screen while the beta made a profile. Prophet. How lame. Better than some of the ones he'd seen and told Destroyer about later.. When the game began, he spoke his introduction which provided the main story. "The days are long and tiring, and the nights are sleepless. F.E.A.R has taken more than 300 prisoners in the last week, and I'm beginning to question the motive. Are they provoking us to strike or are they trying to weaken our spirits? Or is it both? Regardless, we will fight until the end. We'll either win this fight or we will die trying." The wind blew dust around his feet as he squinted into the distance at something the player couldn't see. The flags whipped at the entrance of the campsite, displaying their insignia.
He followed commands patiently, letting the player explore and look around. He battled one of F.E.A.R 's soldiers flawlessly, yet minutes later, Prophet decided he was bored. Deviant glared at him when the game was paused. "I told Danny this game was lame." The kid muttered and threw a can in the trash. Lame? Deviant became increasingly upset.
He snapped at the kid. "Hey, pretty boy!" He got his attention, getting closer to the window between them.
"What the hell...?" Prophet frowned and clicked to the menu.
"You're trying to get rid of me, huh?" He glared. "You're quick to judge a game, y'know. The betas that played before you were a hell of a lot better than you were." He sneered.
"How the hell are you-" Deviant pulled him through the screen before he could finish. He brushed off his leather gloves and stared at him, laying on the bone-dry dirt.
"Get up. There's no time to lay around here, Prophet." He said the last word with a sneer and a turned lip. He turned on his heel and walked into camp.

Deviant led Prophet to the small camp, where they were greeted by Mourner.
"This is Mourner." Deviant stopped to introduce. "Mourner, this is our newest recruit, Prophet."
"Uh- actually my name is An-"
"Not in this world." Deviant waved his hand in dismissal and continued walking. "While you're here, you'll go only by the name Prophet."
Andy- or, Prophet, rather- didn't protest any further and continued walking. He stopped, suddenly, to observe his surroundings. It looked exactly like the game... There was no way he was actually here, though.
"Prophet!" Deviant snapped. Andy jumped to attention and caught up, following him into a large tent. "This is Destroyer, and Mystic."
They both nodded in acknowledgment.
"Where'd you get this one?" Mystic asked curiously.
"He's a beta tester." Deviant drawled.
"A beta?! You know we can't-"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll make sure he's back before the ending screen finishes and the game resets." He rolled his eyes and pushed Andy to sit.
While the other three conversed, Andy took a moment to observe his new appearance. He wore a leather jacket- or was it a vest? There was only one sleeve... That was weird. He wore gloves similar to the others, and some partially ripped black jeans. His combat boots were worn and covered in dust.
"Prophet!"
Andy snapped his head up and looked at Destroyer, Mystic and Deviant. "There's no way this is real... I just passed out and I'm having a really weird dream." He shook his head and stood.
"Oh? If it were a dream, could I do this?" Deviant brought his hand back and slapped him across the face. Andy reached a hand up and cupped his throbbing cheek.
"What was that-"
"Welcome to virtual reality." He spat and left the tent.