Alexander Plansky - Arcadia

For a moment, there was silence. Then he began to notice an electrical hum, emanating from all around. Gradually, the world faded in.

He sat against the wall of some kind of transport vessel, strapped in by a large safety harness that reminded him of the ones from rollercoasters. The compartment was dark save for a single strip of harsh white LEDs running along the ceiling. The walls and floor were steel gray. Looking down, he saw his character was wearing some kind of white, metal spacesuit. There was a similarly suited figure seated to his right and another on the row of seats on the opposite wall.

“There it is,” came a voice over the loudspeaker.

Lewis leaned forward – his character tilting his head as he did so – and looked to the right, toward the cockpit. It was open, and he could see the back of the pilot’s chair and a figure working the sleek, futuristic controls. The instruments of the holographic dashboard glowed green. Beyond the pilot was a large front window, through which Lewis saw them approaching the ship first seen in the menu screen. The black hole gaped off in the backdrop, streams of light swirling around its rim as they were drawn into its dark maw.

A gruff-sounding female voice appeared in his right ear. “Alright team, you’ll enter the U.S.S. Montana through a medical dock. It seems to be one of the few airlocks still accessible. The ship is drifting closer and closer to the singularity. We estimate you only have six hours before the gravitational pull is inescapable.”

“Roger that,” said the man strapped in next to him. He spoke with a Southern drawl.

“Your mission,” the commander continued, “is to search for any survivors and figure out what the hell happened. Operation Rouge Horizon was meant to study black holes, but we lost contact with the expedition two months ago. Foul play by the Colonial Federation is suspected. Be cautious.”

Lewis saw through the cockpit window that they were pulling up alongside the massive vessel, which utterly dwarfed their own craft. Soon, the transport came to a stop. There was a hiss , then a click , and suddenly his harness slid upward like a gull-wing door. Without him having to move, his character got to their feet. The two other astronauts – he guessed they were all space marines – did the same.

The one across from him spoke with a British accent. “Lasky, Rogers, on me.” The man’s name popped up above his head in Lewis’s display: Smith. He turned to his right. The other teammate read “Rogers.” That meant he must be Lasky.

Smith lead them to a door at the rear end of the transport, Lewis moving with the Touch controllers’ analog sticks while turning his head with the Rift. This was going to take some getting used to.

“Connor, what’s the status on the airlock?” Smith asked.

“Ready,” the pilot responded. “You’re clear to proceed.”

Smith punched a code into a transparent keypad next to the door. With another hiss it retracted upward into its frame, revealing a white chamber beyond. Smith and Rogers moved forward, Lewis following. Once they were all inside the ship’s airlock, the door closed behind them.

“Sergeant, rules of engagement?” Rogers asked.

Smith turned toward him. Lewis realized they all had helmets on even though they were in oxygenated areas. It was probably easier for the development team not to have to create faces that spoke if this was still in beta. Or maybe it was meant to be an artistic choice.

“We don’t know if there are any hostiles aboard. Stay close and watch your six. All damaged compartments have been sealed off by the ship’s computer system. Our access to the decks is limited, but we should be safe unless structural integrity is compromised.”

The other door opened up. The team moved forward, stepping out into an eerie medical reception area. The lights were dim and flickering, and the walls were covered in blood. Lewis saw a red trail leading off down the hall, going through an open doorway to the left. The desk was abandoned and the waiting chairs all sat vacantly. The music in his headphones became creepier.

Lewis couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Could this get any more cliché?” he joked, but there was no reply. Jenna must’ve gone to bed already. He hoped she’d had some more water.

It was slightly unnerving though, knowing he was alone in a dark room well past midnight playing a horror game. Relax , he told himself. It’s not that scary. Or original.

Just from the aesthetic he could tell the game desperately wanted to be Dead Space or the most recent Prey . He remembered when he’d first played Dead Space , all those years ago. What had he been, sixteen? All of his friends had long since been playing all the big M-rated games, but Lewis had only played a bit of Call of Duty by then. Horror had never really suited him because, if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t liked getting scared. The game’s Necromorph enemies did give him nightmares, but that had been well-crafted tension with carefully placed jump scares. This whole thing was starting to feel like a cheap knockoff. They were already on the ship with little to no explanation, and they probably weren’t going to get much more. The body count would probably kick in any minute now. Why go to all the effort of having a secret beta given to only a select few if the game wasn’t that revolutionary? Maybe it would come into its own later.

“Shit,” Rogers said, shining a flashlight beam around. A pistol suddenly appeared in Lewis’s right hand, and he realized he could aim it around by moving the Touch controller. Of course, this had been a VR feature for a while now, but it was still impressive to him. At least the game had that going for it, but he sensed that was its central gimmick.

“This way,” Smith said, leading them forward. He had his own flashlight and pistol out. “Keep a lookout for any life signs.”

“Something’s not right here,” Rogers drawled.

No shit, Sherlock , Lewis scoffed to himself.

The group edged down the corridor, approaching the door where the blood trail snaked in. Smith put up his hand and they stopped. “Lasky, scope it out.”

Lewis sighed. Of course they were going to make him do it. Nudging the analog sticks forward, he watched his character take several steps toward the blackness where a jump scare undoubtedly awaited him.

He shone his flashlight into the room. The beam danced across the floor, illuminating a horrifically mauled corpse. Lewis walked closer. The dead man lay on his back, dressed in what looked to be a gray flight suit. His intestines were torn out and lay around him in disarray. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the floor and walls. The eyes, Lewis noted, were gone too.

It was disgusting. Something about it just felt wrong, but he couldn’t place it. It was something about the detail. There was a kind of strange, glossy sheen on the corpse – the blood and the entrails gleamed in the glow of his flashlight.

He turned his head, looking all around the chamber. It appeared to be a conference room. But the walls, the big table, the ceiling fan, even the projector screen didn’t feel as fleshed out. They felt like objects or environments in a game, as they were, but this corpse felt somehow more real .

Whoever had made this had seemingly put more effort into the body than the rest of the level design. Maybe the gore detail was supposed to be a selling feature. Some people would buy a game like this just for that alone.

He wondered if Jenna would be one of them.

“Sweet Jesus,” Rogers muttered.

“This doesn’t look like an accident,” Smith said, leaning closer to the carnage.