Loading times. Pre-loaders. System slowdown.
Lag. Lag never changes.
"You know while you're jacked in, we're recording your brain patterns. If you want to try to be deep, you might as well just say it out loud and save us a few seconds of interpretation." A voice echoes through the uniform dull grey.
"Then maybe you guys better work on getting things running a little quicker, huh?"
"Relax. Good things take time, Billy... for the finished product there'll be behind the scenes preloaders and perception compression, since that's always a pretty big complaint. That's not ready for testing yet, though, so you're going in raw."
Billy snorts quietly, and rubs a slight itch.
"Pain in the ass... I know you didn't call me in to review loading times, though. All the official testers taking a sick day or something and you just can't wait?" Billy asks.
"Hey, don't get me wrong, those guys do their jobs." the voice answers. "But the suits aren't paying them to go out on a limb and find theoretical slips. They want them to test for the sort of bugs that come up in 'regular play'. I called you in because I can swing it as cheap advertisement and I know that you go out of your way to break these sort of things over your knee. Post-release patches don't look as good, so hopefully you'll find some things that we can fix before it's actually on the market."
"Hah. Try and stop me." Billy snorts.
Silence echoes through the gray for a few long minutes.
"Hey." the voice sounds again. "Sorry for the wait. We're experiencing a couple of odd technical issues on our side. Look at it this way, you're already finding bugs for us to smooth over."
"Yeah? Well, whatever. You're the one's paying me, even if I'd rather not stare at the wall for it." Billy grunts.
"I know how you feel. But at the least, while it's in loading, we can make a direct communication link. That's not going to be able to happen when everything goes active, at best we'll be able to temporarily modify some of the NPC logs for indirect contact. I'd rather not, though, since trying to change the code while it's in use is just asking for a clusterfuck."
"What, you don't have a private messaging system?" Billy asks.
"No, there's one in the works, but the current programming doesn't play well with the interface. One of the code monkeys had a party or something and decided to try some clever new tricks, but for some reason it sporadically starts you bleeding xp all over the place and losing things from your inventory. Until he gets back from vacation and can point out what he changed so we don't have to go through the whole thing with a comb the function has been disabled."
Billy winces.
"Don't want to think about how that would work, but it's definitely not the sort of thing you can let get to a release. Whatever, no messages... as long as it gets me some cash. Landlord's been making noise about rent."
"By 'landlord'..." the voice says, slowly. "... you mean your ma, Billy? Heh, I didn't realize she made you pay to live in her basement. Though at this point, I guess she'd better."
"Hey. One: fuck you." Billy says, making a rude sign with his hands in irritation. "The economy like it is, you know what apartments go for? You've got to have an in, if you want to have any spending money left over at all after rent, utilities, and food. And two... she's not my mom. She's my Aunt."
"Whatever lets you sleep better at night, man." The voice says. "Anyway, it looks like the issues are clearing up over here, so you should be seeing the real thing any-"
There's a sound like a dull, distant explosion, echoing from every direction, as space warps strangely, twisting around into shape and form and sound.
And smell. Definite smell of livestock. Billy makes an uncomfortable note of that, and decides instantly that he'll bring that up on a list of points. That's going to have to be snipped for the final release. There's realism, of course, but even the most hyped up fans of perfect accuracy aren't going to mind the smell of cow pies in the grass on a warm day being cut.
"You've come! Thank the gods..." A wizened and bearded man leaning on a stick rasps.
Billy straightens his back, getting serious. Time to earn the fat stacks.
"What do you want me to do?" he asks, simply.
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