Андреа Хёст - The Starfighter Invitation

And no-one knew anything about it.

[g] itz the only explanation that makes sense .. dream speeds 2 advanced 2 b made by humans

[g] Should rename this guild Team Gullible.

[g] dont make me go all occams razor on your ass far

[g] There must be a few more likely explanations than Ryzonart being run by an AI.

[g] name one

[g] Ryzonart is a front company for a bigger one? The game is nothing but a fancy demo and has no content whatsoever? Aliens?

[g] coz aliens have nothing better 2 do than run games for humans

[g] Unlike AIs, evidently.

[g] Is it too much to believe that ordinary human programmers made a big leap forward?

[g] no way they could have kept a lid on it

Silent Assassin>> up for a taranthy depths run?

>>Silent Assassin: About to log and watch the livestream of Demo 2, sorry.

Silent Assassin>> …

Silent Assassin>> you and the rest of the planet dammit. i’m never going to complete my set.

[g] It’s beyond me why this wasn’t written off as vapourware soon as it came out that Ryzonart is funded by Advanced Somnetics.

[g] Why is that a negative point? The inventors of GDG cowls are the logical people to fund the next leap forward in the games.

[g] The only programmer Ryzonart lists is their CEO, and none of the demo employees have even met this Dom Kinnen guy, or know about anything more than setting up the booths for the demo.

[g] But it’s not because he’s an alien, or an AI or whatever.

[g] Ryzonart’s playing mystery to ramp up the hype.

[g] Seriously, one demo grabbed them god knows how many million in pre-orders. And the demos themselves—do any of you really believe their explanation for why some of the displays ran longer than the demo session? I don’t care if GDG games usually do distort your perception of time—the idea that DS is going to run five times faster than reality is outright ludicrous.

[g] And then there’s the fact that they haven’t submitted the game for ESRB or PEGI rating. No vetting. Download only, direct from their site.

[g] Only logical explanation is scam. It can’t be real.

>>Silent Assassin: You’re not dying to play DS ?

Silent Assassin>> check it out, yes. believe it’s not a hoax, no . pant over livestream of cgi bullshit not a chance

[g] If it was all just a pretty movie, there’d be no need for the server farms that have been verified. A massive amount of money has gone into this. Even just the fact that Ryzonart’s site didn’t go down, despite the pummelling it’s taken since demo 1, shows there’s back-end grunt.

>>Silent Assassin: I seriously hope you’re wrong, Si.

[g] Until something proves me wrong, I am officially abandoning all cynicism. Time for me to log and pant over Demo 2. Later all.

[g] time for us all !!!

[g] Ta-ta Kaz.

[g] Don’t forget your tinfoil hat.

Kazerin Fel has logged off .

"How’s the feed?"

My mother shrugged. "This host seems steady. Though the viewing numbers keep spiking. I’ve a few other options in case it drops out."

Cradling my laptop, I dropped on the couch and eyed the volume-muted wall screen. A presenter dressed as Thor was waving a hammer-shaped microphone.

"Why am I not there? Cologne’s so close—I could be there this afternoon."

"Do the math, Taia," my father said, carrying a laden tray into the room. "Five days. Twenty half hour session slots per day, most of them already reserved thanks to the pre-con lotteries. And Gamescom has three or four hundred thousand attendees on a normal year. You would be watching on the monitors like everyone else, all crammed up, and without the benefit of home-cooked snacks."

"I thought I smelled roti."

Roti was one of the major benefits of my parents' long ramble through Asia. I demolished the perfectly-crisped flatbread—when my Dad made it, I never had to worry about someone using a wheat-mix flour—and listened impatiently as the gamers for the special first session were announced and introduced. Obviously not a random selection, since the lucky pair were sisters: two teens in matching Chell costumes, each carrying a hula-hoop. That was a clever bit of cosplay—they weren’t quite identical, but close enough to produce an illusion of a single person entering a blue circle on one wall and simultaneously emerging from an orange circle on the other side of the stage. They demonstrated, bringing cheers from the assembled crowd, before being escorted through a pair of doors painted in a slick imitation of metal and circuitry.

"All that excitement, and now they’re expected to go to sleep." I sighed ostentatiously, though I knew it wouldn’t be more than a five to ten minute wait. GDG had grown out of tech designed to alleviate insomnia, and there were very few people who could withstand sleep-induction for long. "Have you decided whether you’re going to buy your own GDG cowls?"

"We do have one of the early models. We’ll probably try that first." My mother shrugged and grimaced at the ceiling. "Roof repairs before indulgences."

I checked my laptop, refreshing the Ryzonart site in hopes of an update. I’d registered and pre-ordered immediately after Demo 1, of course, but other than the online store, Ryzonart had only released the cowl specifications required to run the game, and a very vaguely-worded user agreement. They didn’t have forums. They didn’t even have an FAQ.

Of course, hordes of people were saying the whole thing was a hoax: there was no game, the demo participants had been actors, and DS was the biggest scam the gaming community had ever seen. After one net Sherlock had traced a direct financial link between Ryzonart and Advanced Somnetics, the company that had developed GDG cowls, the discussion had head directly to fraud prosecution territory.

I’d still thrown my money at the first opportunity.

The livestream switched from the excitable presenter at the booth to Ryzonart’s main feed, handily broadcasting the output of the sessions directly so the international audience no longer had to rely on shaky footage from monitors. The stream showed a shadowy, metallic door in an unlit room, which slid open to reveal the two girls framed by glare, now dressed in nondescript beige overalls.

"We’re still us!" the taller girl exclaimed in German, which isn’t one of my primary languages, though I can get by in it.

The other girl didn’t indulge in the usual gaping down at herself, instead gasping and taking a stumbling step forward. The camera obligingly swivelled so the audience could appreciate what she was seeing.

"Holy hell."

I’d dropped my roti, but didn’t care. I’d stopped wondering how much game there could possibly be, let alone what you did in it. I didn’t care about anything except the view.

Velvet black and diamonds, and a great, grand curving wash in a thesaurus of blue, a thousand shades from sapphire to ice, and, oh, I wanted it, that moment of looking down on a world made compassable by distance, and in its turn transforming the one who looked into the tiniest speck, a gnat, a mote in…

"Space! We’re in space! Sabine, we’re–!"

"Shut up."

The shorter sister barely whispered the words, advancing until her hands were against the clear surface that separated them from all that was without. And, after a quavering moment, her sister joined her and they stood silent. The light of the world turned the girls' ochre brown skin a sickly green, but did nothing to lessen the sheer joy the pair radiated.

"Roof can wait."

My mother had spoken, not quite under her breath. I let out my own, and we exchanged a glance, then gazed hungrily back at the screen.