A two minute long opening credits, with some gameplay showcases which seemed more like a movie trailer because of all that cinematic soundtrack and cinematography. It ended with an orchestra hit, the “screen” turned black, and my sights slightly fade in. 

This place, it looks like a village in the middle of a desert. Apparently I’m standing right in front of its entrance. The air is hot, the sky is unclear, it feels uncomfortable.

I raised my two hands into my field of vision. They looked dirty “like hammered ”. I also noticed that the KIA lieutenant’s Colt is still on my right hand. I tried moving forward, all I managed is to limp forward. My Glock 18 was still in the holster untouched, the grenades were also inside my left pouch. Deep inside I wish nothing dangerous would happen now. Am I over-dramatizing  it? It is just a game, isn’t it?

I hear a woman’s scream in the distant, 12 o’clock. A quest? I limped forward, trying to hurry to the supposed crime scene.

Two armed men were confronting a middle aged woman with her boy. I don’t think they are with any of the national armed institutions from the way they wear—black tank-tops and ripped jeans, and bad-guy-ish sunglasses.

“Where’s the money, ?”

“I’m sorry, we’ll get it tomorrow, sir!”

“Oh yeah, yeah! That’s what you told us yesterday!”

“Freeze!” I instantly regret that decision. I aimed the gun at one of the man’s head while hiding behind cover in a crouched position.

The men turned back looking for me, then aimed their UZIs at me as soon as they found me.

POW! POW! I shot two rounds, both landing on the men’s torso. They fell, their UZIs went off towards random directions as the woman crouched down to protect the boy.

I limped forward, shot the UZIs away from them, approached the one on the left and asked, “Who sent you?”

“Boss Slasher ain’t gonna be too happy for this . You be’er be cayahful, focka!” Annoying Cockney accent.

“How much do they owe?”

“You playin’ hero, youngstah? You ain’t gonna make it, trost may.” 

“You can cut the crap…” I said as I put my gun muzzle on top of his crotch.

“Ah, ah, fifty grands, fifty grands.”

I stood up. The woman saw me limping towards her, she came forward to help me walk.

“Thank you, young man.”

***

I laid down on the simple bed in the wood cabin. The woman wrapped some bandages on my arm and leg. I looked around the room, as to look for a subject to talk about. It is a simple bedroom with simple appliances. No lighting, only the sunlight streaming in through the paneless window.

Then I remembered how long have I been in this game. “Menu,” I said, a menu box appeared before me like a transparent tablet PC.

Outside time: 20:07 GMT+8

Server time: 12:07 UET

Resume

Alarm clock

Options

Log out

I’ve been playing for… Two and a half hours. I think I should use some sleep now. I hovered my finger over to the “log out” button. Clicked it.

…

Nothing happened.

I clicked it again, and still nothing. My patience grew thin. I binge clicked on it for three whole seconds, then the menu disappeared. What’s in front of me is a dialog box saying “Fatal error, please try again later.”

What?

Perhaps a five second wait could do? Still useless. I have a bad feeling about this. No way this could happen.

I can’t log out.

I turned around and asked the lady, “Ma’am, has there been any problem with people unable to log out in this game?”

“What? I don’t quite get what you’re talking about. Is that some sort of technologistique talk? I’m just a simple old woman, sonny,” she said without looking at me.

“There you go, all done!” She bandaged my wounds with some scrap cloth. “You rest here, sonny. I need to do a bit of chores.” Then she walked out the door.

I stared at the blank ceiling, then proceeded to try logging out once more, still nothing. Then I heard heavier footsteps from outside the door. It got closer, closer.

“You can’t log out?”