1 A Fine Morning Indeed
It was just another day for him. Birds still singing, in a chirp contrast of the vibrant metropolis and children laughter playing in the park. A well-deserved holiday, toiling in sweat and energy drinks for 4-months in his grueling work as an animator for anime studio.
All in all, the weather is sunny and a bright day ahead. He stared boringly to the ceiling, waiting for a single blip from the computer on the desk beside his bed.
Even with the advancement of humanity, every goods and luxury beyond imagination only away from their fingertips, entertainment is still an expensive media for the crew behind that sold cheaply without any kind of appreciation other than being 'entertaining'.
It's fine for him, although the job is most often under-paid, a sad irony when the company could make billions in a single launch. He has been the key-animator, artist, once a doujin creator and a modder in a gaming community, it was his passion.
Though, it was dwindling in the coming years. Becoming a person, that his collagenous talked in their youth, referred to as working-zombies. He had no dreams, following wherever the windswept. Some said, he was a gifted child, being able to learn everything at a fast rate, only to be hindered by the lack of ambition.
It's fine. He thought, again and again.
Still staring at the grey ceiling. Most of the colorful articles inside his room were gathering dust, a testament of how long he is been away from the once-safe bastion of him. Old plastic models, standing idly behind the glass casket. If auctioned it could sell, perhaps thousands or millions, being the older, lost, and original figurines, in other words, his collection could become an article of antiquity.
Passionate fans and collectors might be screamed in rage when seeing the state those figurines being treated to. Unappreciated, and collecting in the dust. Either way, he had no time to appreciate it at any time, not anymore. When his holiday could be cut short at any time with a single phone call from his boss.
Might a good time, to buy a personal assistant. It was once the dreamt of his youth, hell every adolescent boy will dream of it when technology is not as advanced as it is now. Android and artificial intelligence are not only realized in the book of Asimov, but they also do and can dream of electric sheep in this day with the news of the latest models that capable to feel emotion.
And again, the idea was left down the gutter, when everything was so hectic on the studio's he barely thought about his personal life other than gulping the energy drink, and nutrient bar.
BLINK
He tilted his head to the left, which takes shorter than I expected.
The computer is could be described as… again, antiques. Plastic LED monitor, and a bulky CPU with a mere 16gb Ram and old generation graphic card and processor of 9th series that once boasted as a beast among computers specification in the past day of age, now regarded as would a stone-ax from the ancient era.
He didn't care, preferring the dream of his youth rather than the newest cognitive-user interface and virtual reality. A hologram computer that connected to the neural implant, the people of old said.
Windows 7, the OS is pleasantly nostalgic to him. With its blue theme as the User Interface, and once become the most stable OS he preferred.
A faint tug of a smile formed upon his face. Sweeping the dark bang away, he hovered the cursor to various icons presented on the layer of the monitor.
Hearts of Iron IV
Civilization V
Stellaris
Endless Space
Endless Legend
He frowned, why everything is strategy games. Of course, he loves to become Saint Hitler or Stalin in another timeline or play as the Emperor of mankind that Purge every Xenos and Liberals in every sight… but he can't control time. Now, where did he put another video game.
Homework
Obviously not that, when the size is 400gb. He ought to hide that later, the dark-haired man noted.
His dream was once, to play graphic consuming video games when his youth is filled with envy for the richer kids that capable to ask and wink their parents to buy a gaming system, not the poor him though.
And now… he appreciated that graphic doesn't equal great gameplay. Sure, newer games had a great graphic and story, but none could replace a childhood fondness and memory.
Animuland
Okay, he paused his cursor. Nah, I got no time for anime.
Senseless and Mass-shooting inducing games.
He questions his youth-self taste in a naming folder, seriously, granted the media is still as foolish as ever… okay, he ought to agree with the notion of the naming.
With a click another array of an icon presented to him.
Doom.
Nice, but let's take a look at another option that had a depth story.
Fallout 4
Fuck Marcy and Gay Preston, He hates them. Next!
Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind.
Cliffracers, driving gamer nuts since 2002.
Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion.
Ugh, he can't stand the awful face of the people, next!
Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.
6090 Hours spend, wow, so much time wasted. He could become a president twice over if he didn't play Skyrim.
All other games were also enticing to play, he can't bear to choose between one. Since when playing games become such stressful indulgence.
And then, after excruciatingly and time wasted. Flap, he back to his bed.
Not that!
I wanted to play a game, to fill this momentous holiday!
Ugh, it makes him remember Todd's meme. Breasts are temporary, Skyrim is eternal.
Godd Howard, is there any other reason?
No, Skyrim is it then.
There should be a proverb when in doubt play Skyrim.
He relented to his inner desire, succumbed to the whisper of Godd Howard.
He forgot his old save anyway, might start a new game. Installing a few mods shouldn't take time.
12-Hours has passed, he noted the dusk sky outside the window.
And yet, he still not played the game. Apparently, Skyrim modding has not died yet, and he had a hard time choosing the right mod to suit his next gameplay.
After a few deliberations, and customize every mod he deemed as cheating with high-stat and is easy to obtain. He customized it so those items will be hard to get, such as through high-level blacksmith skills, rare ingredients through mod that adds a new monster, or outright end-game quest rewards.
It was rather easy for him, but very time consuming and tedious which he found as another joy why he likes Skyrim and its other series.
64-Hours has passed, his room once littered with dust now accompanied with garbage strewn all over. The kind of room where one usually found in 30-years old Wizard and The Ilk where they don't want to work.
It's fine, he can call the cleaning service anyway. Such is the thought of someone who lives in a near utopian society where all demand can be met with a single swipe.
439-Hours has passed, his eye widened once he saw the number when he pressed the exit button after… weeks of play. Somehow, he managed to left for days without sleep, granted all the energy drink strewn across his room. A rather harmful habit. He hurriedly opened the log history of his interface computer, revealing hundreds of missed calls and messages left unread.
Oh shit, most of the call is from his boss and other colleagues. He found it a sad thing, as there's no other contact from his friends or family. What a cruel world.
Uwwah, the movie got delayed because of his absence. A rather crushing burden was placed on his back. Once he went to the studio, the only fury of his boss awaits and the letter of his retirement will await. He didn't want to go there, ah, I hope the world end tomorrow or something.
I'm sorry, I played a game too much last night Tee-He~ Like hell he could do that.
He opened the nearest cabinet and grabbing the oldest alcoholic drink he had stored. His eyes grew weary, the black hair loses its luster, and his back becomes hunched. And soon after a few big gulps, he found himself nodding on the bed.
He feels to not have the desire to wake up.
"Hey, you! You're finally awake!"
Oh, don't make such a mistake, he already read too many counts of Light novel to know where this is going. The voice is rather alien to him, there's no one in his apartment and no one had the keys other than the owner whom is a woman. And burglar won't even bother to wake him up.
And most importantly he knew that lines all too well.
He's screwed, isn't he?
