“What are you playing?”
“A virtual reality game called earth.”
“What creature are you?”
“I chose a human. They are hilarious! They actually believe they are alive!
“Really?”
“When I get bored of my human I just terminate and reincarnate.”
“I heard the earth game was better with the dinosaurs.”
Andrew Kessler is 37 years old and currently residing on the outskirts of New York City. He loves to express himself through his writing.
It’s that level where you’re trapped
and they pour through a window
and I just zapped a bazillion suckers
and I’m like, bring it on
when a hand clamps on my neck
and blood oozes down my arm
and I guess this is what getting your brains eaten feels like.
Christina Dalcher is a linguist, novelist, and flash fiction addict from the Land of Styron and Barbecue. She’d like to raise awareness of the dangers of video game addiction. And zombies. Find her at christinadalcher.com or @CVDalcher.
He walked into a dark room. It was old, and looked like no one had used it in a long time. He chuckled; no one was going to stop him. He slowly pulled up a gun and aimed for her head.
“Tea time!” Mother shouted.
The screen read: Game Over.
Matthew Gregory is a 12-year-old pupil at Longhill High School in Brighton, UK.
She was charming, witty, intelligent, and beautiful. I had to ask her out.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do that.”
“Ah. Boyfriend?”
“It’s not that. I’m an NPC. I’m not programmed to move from this spot.”
I paused, stunned. “Oh. That’s terrible.”
She nodded slowly. “I really have to pee.”
Soon to be a student of culinary arts and therefore thrilled that he can call himself an “art student” and act pretentious on a technicality, Bruce Rytel’s hobbies include writing, gaming, and going by a pseudonym. You can read some of his other works of microfiction at The Brevity Cannon.
Editor’s note: An NPC, or non-player character, is a computer-controlled character in a video game.
After winning the war, they had to figure out what to do with their free time.
They tried paintball, laser tag, Nerf guns, video games, team sports, martial arts, strip poker, and full-contact chess, but nothing quite filled their need.
They needed a new enemy; they built a space ship.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Activision-Blizzard Board of Governers, we’ve called you here from your Hawaiian homesteads and your Caribbean estates for a very important meeting. This woman, Andrea Rhinestone, has developed potentially the most lucrative video game franchise concept since The Sims.”
“Three words,” said Andrea. “Hula. Hoop. Hero.”
“Now to Tom, with heart-wrenching news.”
“Thanks, Sarah. A man is feared dead after telling his girlfriend he was ‘going to play video games all day’ and that ‘nothing could stop him.’ His home collapsed in the earthquake this afternoon. We have Jack Thompson on the phone for a reaction.”
“I don’t get it,” said Kyle. “They walk across tight-ropes and swing around on bars and ride motorcycles and stuff, but where’s the rest?”
“What do you mean, ‘the rest’?”
“You know, the boss fights. The item gathering. The plot. This is the boringest platformer ever.”
“…We’re at a circus.”