Is it because you’re a female in the gaming community?
Does it have to do with race?
Are you going to give up?
What are your plans for your appearance at New York GamesCon—
I curse to myself, resisting the urge to kick my ship as it sits in my space dock. Not that I actually could kick it, anyway. A large window maws open at the end of the dock, with impossibly infinite space waiting outside. So much to explore, and so much work to do.
I thought video games were supposed to be fun.
I glance at my ship again, scowl, then load up my on-screen menu. The option to name my vessel appears, and blank spaces meant for letters dot their way across the side of the ship, waiting for me to put something in there.
Damn it, the Golden Titan was such a good name. Such a good ship. Renaming it the Golden Titan II or something seems ridiculous. 2 Golden 2 Titan? Golden Titan: The Titaning?
The name of the clan that attacked me springs to mind. The Vox Populi. Popular opinion, voice of the people, my ass. And Latin? Assholes probably played through Assassin’s Creed one too many times and think they know their stuff.
And if they were real gamers, they’d know about the Vox Populi in BioShock Infinite. Underground rebels who fight for equality and social justice. Daisy Fitzroy would be furious.
I can play the Latin phrase game, too, trolls.
I type a name out, the letters appearing on the screen.
What would you like to name your ship?
CEDERE NESCIO
Are you sure you want to name this ship
CEDERE NESCIO?
Once a name is chosen it cannot be changed.
[YES] [NO]
I practically smash the yes button.
I know not how to yield.
Damn right.
The Latin words sear themselves onto the side of my vessel, the game rendering it in black against the golden hue of the ship. I turn away from my computer screen to grab my VR headset, since I’m going into the game solo. I slide it on, securing the straps, the soft foam plastic along the edges fitting snuggly against my face, cushioned like a pillow. I blink a few times to adjust to the lens as the world of Reclaim the Sun renders in, and the sounds fill the stereo speakers inside. I fumble a little for my controllers, two sticks with triggers for my fingers and directional pads on top for my thumbs, then settle back into my chair.
I look around the hangar, at all the details. The paint, the rivets in the steel, the expanse of space waiting for me. This is the way Reclaim the Sun was meant to be played. It’s like no other game out there, and so easy to get lost in.
I open the cockpit and climb aboard. The control panel inside the ship is plain, nothing as fancy as the one I used to have. The digital displays are gone, replaced with dials and gauges, as though steampunk exists in space or something. It’s disappointing to look at, even more so in VR, the letdown of it all right up close in my face. But I get it. The game is trying to make it look as basic as possible, which I get. It’s how the studio makes money, encouraging gamers to spend money on fancy upgrades. Or, in my case, time.
I reach out and press a button, and the engine fires up, a soft hum emanating from it as the ship hovers in the air and glides out of the space dock into the black sky and shimmering stars. Flying normally delights me, especially in VR, but the sound of the chassis rattling and the ponderous pace of the ship utterly spoils the experience.
It’s so slow. So very slow.
I turn around and watch my assigned home planet and the space dock gradually disappearing behind me. With my old ship, both would have been long gone by now. A distant thought. Barely a glimmer in the background. I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling my real hands tighten on the VR controller sticks as my virtual fingers grip the flight controls in the game in front of me. At least with the headset on it feels like I can physically let loose my frustrations in real time, as opposed to just angrily shaking my mouse.
I lean back in my chair and look at my watch. The VR headset registers my real-world smartwatch, thanks to some neat features in the game and a couple of plug-ins courtesy of Samsung. I tap the digital version of the watch, and the tiny screen grows larger, taking up half my vision. A handful of emails have come in since I turned on the computer, and my social feed is still abuzz with everything that went down in the last stream. Blogs and media outlets keep linking to articles about what happened, too, all being oh-so kind as to include my name in the links and tweets.
Great. Now more people can find me.
For every like, six dozen awesome fans commenting with their support, there’s some douchebag hanging out with no profile photo and a gusher of racist, sexist bullshit at the ready. At least it’s just my gamertag and my social media handles out there, and not my real name. I’ve been very careful about that. Deliveries of any sponsored material get shipped to the local library or to Rebekah’s dorm, and are always addressed to D1V, not the real-life Divya Sharma.
Something beeps, drawing my attention back to the game. With a wave of my hand, I swipe away the digital display from my smartwatch and scan the control panel before me. The sonar is picking up a little something, off to the left of where my ship is aimlessly traveling. My heart flutters excitedly, and I shift course slightly, straining to make out more details.
There, in the distance—a discolored star among all the white spots in the dark.
A planet.
I lean forward in my chair, as though that will somehow make the ship go faster, and watch with anticipation as the off-color speck slowly grows bigger and bigger, shifting from a pale reddish hue in the distance to a beaming, burning orange as it gets closer. If I was in my old ship, I would have been there by now, and the tediousness of traveling at this crawl is killing me. For a moment, I’m ready to rage-quit the game, thinking that it targeted a star and confused it for a planet for some reason. But then the planet finally registers, and a light orange display appears on the windshield of my cockpit.
CLASS ONE PLANET [ESTIMATED]
Status: Uncharted, Undiscovered
Detectable Resources: Ore
Life Support Capability: Positive
Would you like to claim and name this planet?
[YES] [NO]
I drop my head into my hands and groan. A Class One. Hoo-freaking-ray. I’d probably find just enough ore to upgrade my ship a smidge, or maybe get some better armor or a new blaster. But likely not much else.
Here’s the problem with Reclaim the Sun. While upgrading ships and spaceports and weapons is all technically free, from the paint jobs to the boosters, it costs a hell of a lot of in-game currency and experience points. Takes an eternity to upgrade anything. Mine an entire planet? Cool, now you can upgrade your gun to the next level. Oh wow, you harvested all the wood on a continent? Neat, here’s a jacket for your character that does absolutely nothing. Shit like that.