Players

Chapter 2 

—–CROW—– 

Snow fell prettily from a pitch-black, starless sky.

December 31st. 11:48 PM, racing towards midnight.

The young man, having dashed up the dreary stairs of his goshiwon, hurriedly stood in front of his door. Perhaps because he was in a rush, his hand trembled slightly as he pressed the keypad lock.

“Still 49 minutes.”

Checking his smartphone clock, the young man hurried inside. A small room, barely fitting a single bed and a desk, greeted him.

His face still retained a youthful air.

Around twenty years old, certainly no older than his early twenties at most.

The young man quickly took off his shoes and turned on his laptop, which sat neatly on the desk. Even as the operating system booted up, he anxiously checked the time on his smartphone.

11:50 PM.

Ten minutes until the server shutdown.

Various icons were appearing on the laptop screen, but it hadn’t finished booting up yet.

The young man quickly reached out and grabbed the joystick placed in the corner of the desk. It was a device that connected to the laptop via USB.

‘I wonder if I can get in one last game?’

11:51 PM.

As soon as the booting finished, the young man, in a combative posture, hammered at the keyboard, entering his ID and password.

Fighter Online.

An online game centered around a “fighting game,” a genre that was now hard to find even a trace of, especially since the decline of arcades across the country.

It had been in service for eight years.

At its launch, fighting game enthusiasts from all over the country flocked to it, resulting in a bustling scene, but those were the old days.

Ultimately, unable to defy the trends of the gaming world, the number of users had steadily declined, and finally, a notice announcing the termination of the game service this autumn had been posted.

It was because they couldn’t solve the so-called “hardcore player” problem, often cited as the limitation of fighting games.

Fighting games were primarily about competing against others, which meant the existing users’ skill level itself became a barrier to entry.

Newbies were just starting, but all available opponents were hardcore veterans.

The wall was too high to simply “lose and learn” in the beginning.

Imagine it.  Would it be fun if, while you were still fumbling around trying to figure out how to use the skills, your opponents were all monsters who could pull off 108-hit combos as a basic move?

Of course, the veterans knew that the game couldn’t survive without newbies, so they tried their best to throw a match, or just go easy on them, but even that had its limits.

Whether they threw a match or went easy, it was ultimately meaningless for the newbies.

How would you feel if your opponent just took a beating in one out of three matches, and then completely dominated you in the other two?

It would feel more like being mocked.

‘Is it inevitable?’

For the young man, who had been enjoying the game since its open beta, it was a deeply regrettable situation, but truly unavoidable.

A single fan couldn’t control the termination of a game service.

‘Since it’s the last time, it’s only right to log in with my main character, right?’

The defining feature of Fighter Online was its incredibly free-form customization system.

Not only the character’s appearance but also the skills and combos used in the game could be customized within certain rules.

It was a desperate measure proposed by the developers to overcome the shortened lifespan of games due to limited character selection.

As expected of a character selection screen for a user who had been playing the game for eight years, all sixty-four slots were filled.

His eyes first went to the character he had played most recently, the last female character he had created.

Snow-white skin and golden hair that reached down near her buttocks.

She wore revealing, tight-fitting red leather clothing, and possessed an unrealistically perfect figure, befitting a game character.

At the sight of the character winking and beckoning seductively, the young man involuntarily moved his mouse, but then changed his mind.

Hadn’t he said it himself? Since it’s the last time, he should log in with his main character.

In the first slot stood a handsome young man dressed entirely in black, except for his skin, eyes, and hair.

His eyes were different colors, blue and red, and black lines extended from the corners of his eyes across his pale cheeks, resembling tattoos.  As if that wasn’t enough, his right hand was wrapped in bandages, and he held an eyepatch in his hand, presumably to cover his red right eye.

The character’s name, embodying the epitome of chuunibyou, was “Dark Destiny Lord.”

It was the most senior character, having been with the young man since the open beta.

Staring at Dark Destiny Lord, the young man let out an involuntary wry smile.

It was a ridiculous thing for someone barely in his early twenties to say, but perhaps it was a mistake of his youth?

There was a time when he genuinely thought both the appearance and the name were cool.

11:53 PM.

The young man, having logged in, was greeted by a nearly empty lobby screen. Only the NPCs in the corner of the screen stood as always, repeating their given lines.

“Even though it’s the last time…”

There was a time when this lobby used to be full.  There were dozens of lobby channels in the capital of Fighter Online’s world, “Enerheim.”

But now there was only one lobby channel. And even that was usually empty like this.

11:54 PM.

Staring blankly at the lobby, the young man hurriedly opened the cash item-exclusive item window.

As a fighting game, Fighter Online didn’t have items, but since they still needed to make money, this cash item window existed.

It contained minor clothing items that could alter appearance and chat-related items that didn’t affect gameplay itself, like the eyepatch Dark Destiny Lord was holding.

‘Surely I’m not the only one, right?’

No matter how dead the game was, and even right before the server shutdown, there should be a few other users logged in.

The young man double-clicked the Heartphone, an item that could broadcast a message throughout Enerheim.

300 won each.

But they were all going to disappear in a little over five minutes anyway.

Dark Destiny Lord: [Anyone logged in?]

Late-Night Cat: [Oh! I knew there would be someone!]

Stir-Fried Noodles: [Wow, this is my first time using a Heartphone! I couldn’t use it before because it was a cash item lol]

HelloAgainToday: [Me too lol I just hoarded the ones I got from events lol]

StarHunter☆: [What kind of nickname is that lolololol Chuunibyou?]

Almost as soon as he finished typing, four lines of text popped up in succession.  As expected, there were other people. The last sentence was a bit irritating, but even he admitted his name was chuunibyou-ish, so he wasn’t angry.

He felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the fact that he wasn’t alone in this moment, as the “world” of Fighter Online was ending.

Dark Destiny Lord: [It’s a nickname I made during open beta.]

StarHunter☆: [Seriously? How many years ago was that? This guy’s a total grandpa, a total grandpa.]

HelloAgainToday: [Not a veteran, but ancient oil lol Agreed agreed]

Solomon: [Huh, this dead game still hasn’t died.  What are you guys doing playing this on New Year’s Eve?]

Stir-Fried Noodles: [What about you lol]

Laughter burst out involuntarily, despite the trivial conversation.

A full eight years.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he spent a third of his life with this game.  It was just a game, but he couldn’t help but feel a special attachment to it.

Stir-Fried Noodles: [Ugh, it’s already 56 minutes. Is it over now? Is this really the end? I played this for 5 years.]

Four minutes left.

In four minutes, the server would go down, and Fighter Online would be over.

It was bittersweet, but inevitable.  And in truth, this feeling of regret would surely disappear in a few days.

It was just a game.  Only a game.

Solomon: [I thought this game had a lot of potential, so I had high hopes, but is this all the people left…?  It’s a bit disappointing.]

StarHunter☆: [Even if it has potential, fighting games are a bit much these days.  Even I, a veteran, admit it.]

HelloAgainToday: [Sob sob No newbies.]

Stir-Fried Noodles: [Sob sob 3 minutes left.]

Late-Night Cat: [Ugh. I want a private server. I want to keep playing.]

Dark Destiny Lord: [Me too.]

He gave a short reply without thinking. He might as well have said he hit the keyboard reflexively.

Because he meant it.

He wanted to keep playing. He didn’t want to let it go like this.

He hadn’t been able to log in often lately.

He was only twenty-two, having finished his military service earlier than others due to his early birthday, but he was still a college student who had returned after completing his service.

He wasn’t in a position to enjoy games leisurely like before.  But that made him feel even more attached.

His character standing alone in the empty lobby.

His companion in the game, created eight years ago, and with whom he had spent the longest time.

StarHunter☆: [It’s 59 minutes.  1 minute left until server shutdown.]

Late-Night Cat: [See you again someday!]

StarHunter☆: [Will you even recognize each other if you meet?]

Late-Night Cat: [Just in case!]

StarHunter☆: [Alright!  It’s on me if we meet! If we meet! lol]

HelloAgainToday: [I’ll chip in too lol]

Stir-Fried Noodles: [lol Anyway, everyone, eat well and live well!]

Dark Destiny Lord: [Happy New Year!]

StarHunter☆ was right.

They weren’t even in the same guild or clan, just people who chatted a little in the general chat.  What did “meeting again” even mean?

Still, every single one of those greetings felt heartwarming.

They were the people who shared the last moments of Fighter Online, so what did it matter if they were strangers?

12:00 AM sharp.

[Thank you to all the users who have been with Fighter Online for the past 8 years. We hope to see you again someday in a new form.]

A generic message appeared, and the screen went black. The login music, so familiar he could sing along from beginning to end, flowed from the laptop speakers.

The staff roll in white letters, occasionally interspersed with scenes from various locations in Enerheim, and scenes of users battling.

The young man, his eyes welling up despite it being “just a game,” stared at the laptop for a long time before getting up.  Leaving the laptop as it was, he threw himself onto the bed.

‘It’s over. Starting tomorrow, I’m giving up games and everything and just studying like crazy for a while. Adieu, my gaming life.’

Get a decent TOEIC score, manage his grades…

But why?

Was it because he had let go of Fighter Online?

An unknown sense of helplessness seemed to weigh him down.  He had originally intended to change his clothes and take a shower, but he ended up closing his eyes just like that.

The sound of the music lingered in his ears.

He was only twenty-two, even after completing his military service.

Instead of getting up and closing his laptop, the young man hummed along to the song.  He did so for a while before drifting off to sleep.

And when he opened his eyes again,

He was faced with a completely different scene.

—–CROW—– 

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