The dark fate that awaits every player
There is a moment of old perfection, a golden hour found for each player. This is the first start-up in a new world, an impeccable SEV file, character building screen where every opportunity still lives. The future is a big map of ignorant assignments, not -requirements and unbeaten owners. At this moment there is a God in making the player, and the story is for their order.
But this golden hour is volatile. For each player, no matter how powerful, how careful or how is devoted, marches at the same inevitable end. The first luck is abandoned SEV. Life intervenes, a new title is released, or a depressing boss's wall appears too much on the scale. The player keeps the controller down, which means returning "soon", but it will never come soon. The world is frozen in Tid-Nayak prepared forever before the last dungeon, the farm is half available, the story becomes incomplete forever. Capital City's music plays on an endless loop for someone's audience, a ghost waiting for a ghost in the machine that never returns.
Then the whole code is fate. This is the fate of the perfection, the player who has to look at each pixel, unlock any achievement, and each progress trimming has to fill up to 100%. Their end is not one of the abandonment, but of fatigue. He conquered any challenge, collected all objects and left no stone uurned. And by doing so, they have dried the world of the mystery. When a map is filled with fog of war, is now fully known. The pleasure of the search is replaced by the hollow silence of a checklist. The world has mastered, and in that mastery it dies.
Last, and perhaps the deepest fate is the corrupt file. This is a sudden, digital death. ONE
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