Want a fulfilling new life in another world?
The Second Life Project: Second Wave!
Dimension Wave taking applicants. Deadline approaching!
“How about it?”
The backgrounds and the subjects were so realistic, I could have sworn they were photographs. It had to be a big deal, seeing as the article sprawled across seven whole pages of a gaming magazine.
“I’m not quite sure how to answer that question...”
Out of nowhere, my two sisters had stormed up to me and shoved a magazine in my face. Without providing any context whatsoever, they’d enthusiastically asked, “How about it?” while exuding an air of triumph.
Honestly, I had absolutely no idea what they were trying to ask me. The magazine article seemed to be about a game, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. Unfortunately, the genre was listed as an MMORPG. Personally, I leaned more into those laid-back games where you cycle through daily routines. You know, like Harv*st Moon and World N*verland.
My reaction was immediately met with protest.
“Oh come on! Don’t be such a spoilsport!” cried my big sister.
Which was followed by my little sister’s, “Yeah! Live a little!”
Where was all this energy coming from? Not to brag, but the three of us usually got along pretty well for siblings. We played together a lot, and my sisters were both pretty hardcore gamers.
“So anyway, what do you think about the game?” my little sister asked in a saccharine voice. She was laying it on quite thick. She was so enthusiastic it was creeping me out a bit, but I still owed her a fair chance since we were siblings. I swallowed down that emotion and took another good look at the magazine.
Dimension Wave—it was an online game. From what I could gather, players would work together en masse to fend off enemies that came in massive waves: Dimension Waves, as they called them. Skimming through, it was your typical RPG fare where the players would defeat monsters using a wide array of weapons and magic. There were even several races to choose from.
Oh, but it looked like there was fishing too. That was more up my alley. I preferred a game where you could take it nice and slow.
Hm? This part seems a bit different from your typical explanation. What’s this?
The article read: “Players are meant to experience an uninterrupted new life within the game and so, as was the case with the hugely popular First Wave, they will be unable to log out until the game has been completed. With that said, time moves differently in the game than it does in real life. Although it will take a few years for the game to be cleared, this will equate to only twenty-four hours in real time, perfect for office workers who find themselves lacking in leisure time! If you want to take part, please enter the URL below!”
And that’s all she wrote. The article jogged my memory, though. I recalled the stir it had caused a year ago. The Second Life Project produced by a popular VRMMO studio, was it?
Just as the magazine said, the game used a system where months or even years in the game would translate to only a matter of hours in reality. It was particularly popular among working adults, and the fact that you had to live out the whole experience from beginning to end without logging out had led to the “Second Life” part of the name.
Due to the nature of the game, they only held a session once a month, and—barring a few contrarians—most people seemed quite satisfied with the experience. At least, that was what I remembered reading online. A friend of mine wouldn’t stop heaping praise on it, so it must have been quite the experience.
However, it wasn’t without controversy... There were reports of some players changing how they spoke or acted after a session. It just went to show that spending a few years in the game was enough to influence someone’s personality.
On another note. That friend of mine ended up getting a girlfriend in the game, and they’re still together in real life. Ptooey! Lucky him, huh?
As a side note...participating in the game wasn’t cheap. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be cheap. Not only was the game itself expensive, but it required specialized equipment to play. And the business, well, it was a business, so there wasn’t much to say about that. The point being, it was a game that normally fell outside of a student’s price range.
“So, why bring this up?” I asked. Honestly, participating in this was way out of the question. I couldn’t see pleading to mom or dad ending in anything but a firm “No.”
“Huzzah!”
Then, with the same high spirits, my big sister pulled out an envelope. It was from the Second Life Project.
“D-Don’t tell me...”
“Now be amazed! It’s a game entry ticket!”
“Where did you get that? You didn’t do something illegal, did—”
“She won it in a gaming tourney! This was the prize!” my little sister happily explained, completely disregarding my joke.
There was only one tournament that could have offered the entry ticket as a prize; it had to be the arcade fighting game tourney held by one of the company’s subsidiaries. I’d read about how it was a packed event with a deluge of people who joined in just to get those very tickets. To think my family was a part of that crowd... It’s an odd feeling.
“And get this. One ticket is good for three people!” my big sister smugly proclaimed.
And my other sister was so excited, it looked like she might zoom off at any second.
“Three...? That’s a dubious number, don’t you think?”
Isn’t it usually two or four? I’d heard stories of couples and spouses taking part together to deepen their relationships. And other stories where they broke up because their relationship fell apart in-game...
Anyways, does that mean I can join too? No... Wait a second.
“Hey, how much would these go for on auct— GHAH!”
My little sister’s fist found its way into my right cheek before I could finish.
“As if we’d ever sell it, stupid!”
“I mean, we could sell one piece of paper and go on a family tri— GHAH!”
This time, my big sister’s fist caught my left cheek.
“Personally, I think we can wait until we’re working adults before we pay mom and dad back for all they’ve done for us.”
How faithful to their desires they were. But then again, the ticket wasn’t mine to begin with. I didn’t really have a say in what happened to it.
“So there’s the two of you and... Are you planning to invite another friend?”
“Huh?” they both cried out.
And, “Hm?” I grunted back.
They were both looking at me in disbelief.
“You don’t want to play?”
“No, not really.”
It did sound enticing, but the fact it was a VR game gave me second thoughts.
“I don’t have the right constitution for VR game systems.”
VR game systems, or more specifically, dive-type online games, were a breath of new life that stirred up the world of online gaming. It was a futuristic concept that—until recently—had been limited to the realm of cyberpunk science fiction.
Indeed, they were supposed to be the dive-type games of hopes and dreams, but though they did cause a commotion when they first launched, they were only well received by a handful of gamers.
This is something I think a lot of Japanese gamers will understand, but for starters, the experience itself was a factor. The digital worlds of dive-type games just didn’t sit right with a lot of people.
Just like how pixel sprite games still maintain their popularity, the players who had gotten used to gaming while staring at a screen just found it to be a completely different and less enjoyable experience. I was born into an era of beautifully rendered 3D models, so it didn’t bother me, but I heard there were quite a few people who resisted the transition from sprites to 3D. But, well, if that’s all there was to it, I wouldn’t have been so averse to dive-type games.
That brought me to my second point: the strong influence of human brain waves on performance. Recent discoveries proved that brain waves, or what was termed computational power, could vary greatly between individuals. In essence, the source of what was previously called instantaneous decision-making ability or decisiveness was determined to be related to the speed of electronic transmissions within the brain. Unfortunately, this transmission speed also affected the performance of dive-based games, leading to a disparity in user experience based on natural ability.
In short, there were gamers cropping up all over the place, complaining that the starting line wasn’t the same for everyone. Save for a few players who managed to adapt well, the demand for dive-type games wasn’t nearly as high as expected.