Read Online Press Start to Play by Daniel H. Wilson, John Joseph Adams - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel H. Wilson, John Joseph Adams
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what I intend to ask
her
when I go to Manchester to meet
her
on Thursday to interview
her
for the blog.”
“You’re going to ask
him
point-blank why
he
bothered making a game where nothing happens?”
“Obviously not. And anyway, it isn’t like nothing happens. Some people—”
“Forum people?”
“Yes, they’re people too. Some people who’ve played it a while say they’ve come across different objects after walking for long enough. A small shoe, a mailbox, a skeleton. One guy says he came across a van half-buried in the sand. It’s, like, widely believed that if you keep walking long enough, you can complete the game by finding a main road. No one’s done it, though, so that’s what I want to ask her: Can it be completed? Why the attention to detail? Is there a cheat? Why was it pulled from the— Holy bum flaps.”
Jamie, who was slouching on the mattress, sat up and looked at the screen. “What? What is it?”
“Look,” Sam said. On the horizon a dark shape had appeared. At first it looked like a person, arms wide open. When they drew closer to it, the dark shape became green, and in doing so, revealed its true identity.
“It’s a cactus. Yessss.” Sam pumped a fist in the air, his voice high and excited. “Other people have found those too. Ten minutes in, and we’ve found our first object.”
He flattened out his fist and offered it to Jamie for a high five. Jamie raised his eyebrows, stood up, and left Sam hanging. “Sorry, mate. I don’t think I’ve got another minute of this in me.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “But don’t cry to me when you miss me making history.”
Jamie mumbled something on his way out the door but Sam didn’t hear; he was already focused on putting the cactus behind him and finding the next secret of the game.
—
The alarm clock on the bedside table continued to flash uselessly on the default setting of 12:00, depriving Sam of a meaningful relationship with the correct time of day. He’d been too engrossed to get up and open the curtains. After what felt like an hour of playing, he hadn’t come across any more objects, and the purple mountains still looked ominously distant.
He didn’t mind, though. The gentle
chshh
,
chshh
and the undemanding graphics had lulled Sam into a deep contemplative state where he’d been able to think clearly for the first time in a long while. In addition to his biweekly blog, there had been numerous commissioned pieces he’d been writing that took up a substantial amount of his time, not to mention the monthly column he was writing for one of the national newspapers. It had been almost a year since Afshan left him, and it was only out here in the make-believe desert that he simultaneously reasoned and believed that it had probably been for the best. He wouldn’t have had time for all the demands of gaming had they still been together. He’d have had to go back to work on the shop floor at PC Planet.
Certainly there wouldn’t have been enough time or goodwill for the demands of a blog about
Desert Walk
.
Sam’s stomach growled. He put down the controller and up on the screen the walker stopped. The room went quiet and Sam felt an unexpected stab of loneliness. He ran down to the kitchen, eager to return to the game. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bowl of leftover Balti from the night before. Only after he’d put the bowl in the microwave did he notice that the light coming through the kitchen window was much weaker than he’d expected it to be. He looked at the clock on the oven. It was flashing 12:00 too.
He went into the lounge, where Jamie was sitting, watching television. “What’s the time, mate?” Sam said.
“Dunno. Can I use the kettle yet?”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Seriously, what’s the time?”
Jamie sighed and flicked the button on the remote that brought up the menu. “It’s twelve minutes past four.”
“Get out.” Sam went over to the screen to see for himself. He
her
when I go to Manchester to meet
her
on Thursday to interview
her
for the blog.”
“You’re going to ask
him
point-blank why
he
bothered making a game where nothing happens?”
“Obviously not. And anyway, it isn’t like nothing happens. Some people—”
“Forum people?”
“Yes, they’re people too. Some people who’ve played it a while say they’ve come across different objects after walking for long enough. A small shoe, a mailbox, a skeleton. One guy says he came across a van half-buried in the sand. It’s, like, widely believed that if you keep walking long enough, you can complete the game by finding a main road. No one’s done it, though, so that’s what I want to ask her: Can it be completed? Why the attention to detail? Is there a cheat? Why was it pulled from the— Holy bum flaps.”
Jamie, who was slouching on the mattress, sat up and looked at the screen. “What? What is it?”
“Look,” Sam said. On the horizon a dark shape had appeared. At first it looked like a person, arms wide open. When they drew closer to it, the dark shape became green, and in doing so, revealed its true identity.
“It’s a cactus. Yessss.” Sam pumped a fist in the air, his voice high and excited. “Other people have found those too. Ten minutes in, and we’ve found our first object.”
He flattened out his fist and offered it to Jamie for a high five. Jamie raised his eyebrows, stood up, and left Sam hanging. “Sorry, mate. I don’t think I’ve got another minute of this in me.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “But don’t cry to me when you miss me making history.”
Jamie mumbled something on his way out the door but Sam didn’t hear; he was already focused on putting the cactus behind him and finding the next secret of the game.
—
The alarm clock on the bedside table continued to flash uselessly on the default setting of 12:00, depriving Sam of a meaningful relationship with the correct time of day. He’d been too engrossed to get up and open the curtains. After what felt like an hour of playing, he hadn’t come across any more objects, and the purple mountains still looked ominously distant.
He didn’t mind, though. The gentle
chshh
,
chshh
and the undemanding graphics had lulled Sam into a deep contemplative state where he’d been able to think clearly for the first time in a long while. In addition to his biweekly blog, there had been numerous commissioned pieces he’d been writing that took up a substantial amount of his time, not to mention the monthly column he was writing for one of the national newspapers. It had been almost a year since Afshan left him, and it was only out here in the make-believe desert that he simultaneously reasoned and believed that it had probably been for the best. He wouldn’t have had time for all the demands of gaming had they still been together. He’d have had to go back to work on the shop floor at PC Planet.
Certainly there wouldn’t have been enough time or goodwill for the demands of a blog about
Desert Walk
.
Sam’s stomach growled. He put down the controller and up on the screen the walker stopped. The room went quiet and Sam felt an unexpected stab of loneliness. He ran down to the kitchen, eager to return to the game. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bowl of leftover Balti from the night before. Only after he’d put the bowl in the microwave did he notice that the light coming through the kitchen window was much weaker than he’d expected it to be. He looked at the clock on the oven. It was flashing 12:00 too.
He went into the lounge, where Jamie was sitting, watching television. “What’s the time, mate?” Sam said.
“Dunno. Can I use the kettle yet?”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Seriously, what’s the time?”
Jamie sighed and flicked the button on the remote that brought up the menu. “It’s twelve minutes past four.”
“Get out.” Sam went over to the screen to see for himself. He
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