EPTWhat, I thought, a chance to win autographed stuff by Sheth? Hell yeah. I jumped at the chance.
My plan was to write a campy faux-epic set in a world where Starcraft is to people what Ki is to Dragonball Z, and maybe slip in a few laughs while I was at it. Did I succeed? You let me know.
I give you: A Record of Starworld.
---
In a world where Starcraft is the measure of all things...
It was the year of the final GSL when Jinro reached Starleague Citadel.
By then TLO had already absorbed Hero and Sheth in his mad quest to achieve the perfect form. In a desperate bid to stop him, Ret and Haypro joined forces, creating the conglomerate of zerg power known as Retpro. All in vain. Only Jinro remained on the sidelines, powerless and frustrated.
--
He stood on the precipice overlooking the ruins of Seoul. The city was a derelict vessel and no one now lived in it save for the desperate and the insane. At its heart lay Starleague Citadel. Within its dungeons...
Jinro shook his head. How did it all start? He thought this and looked up at the sky. At its zenith a pale sun shone as though it was the crowning jewel atop the forehead of a grey stallion. It was no sun, but TLO in his all his glory, bathing the world in his light. He called himself an angel, but Jinro knew he was really a monster.
At the very same moment, TLO sat upon his sky throne, meditating on the history of his ascension.
---
Sheth, ever the gentleman, so nice, so gullible. He was the easiest to take. I invited him to our Swedish training house to practice for Dreamhack Winter. I prepared the grounds, made sure no one would be home to interfere. It went so smoothly. Why, hello, Simon, would you like a cup coffee? Of course you do. Just wait here. Then I was trembling with excitement. Pleasure rippled through my wrists up into my shoulders and spine, stimulating my cerebellum into reactions of primal ecstasy. I shivered. No, not yet.
The coffee was done. I beckoned him to me. He partook of my preparatory gift and I could see the pleasure spreading on his teddybear face.
“You, sir, are a scholar and a gentlem-- “Then a spasm of sudden suspicion in his eyes. “Hold on, where is everybody? Why is it so dark here? Why are you naked?”
I smiled slowly, exerting all my willpower not to break into the wicked laughter which even then gathered to burst from my animal throat. I could wait no longer. “Why, they are all here, sweet Simon, inside me.”
What?
A swarm of tentacles spread from my arms. My jaw detached. My mouth widened. It elongated and became the spreading maw of a relentless monster. There was nothing he could do to resist me. I beheld the terror in his eyes as he looked into the darkness which would engulf him and felt a pleasure so sweet I could feel it congealing on my skin. Silence took hold of Sheth and he was no longer himself but a part of me. Truly, I was no monster, but an angel.
--
Ashen snow blanketed the cityscape. In places it was a shallow film, easily dispersed by the wind. In others, it was a compact layer of powder, offering resistance like so much calcified dust. Men could tread upon it and it would not give way any more than stone would. Thus Jinro tread over it, leaving only the slightest signs of his passage, and even those were swiftly made smooth again.
He listened to the wind blow. It arced through the labyrinthine ruins of the old apartment buildings as though through the bones of some great concrete behemoth, long felled by greater forces. Not so long ago this was a thriving metropolis. Human beings were its vital lymph, and they were everywhere to be seen. Now you could perhaps spy a frightened face out of the corner of your eye. If you were careful.
He did not know the way through the city for it had been destroyed far beyond recognition, but the path was easy to find. Starleague Citadel towered over everything, its sleek black spire forever in sight. Jinro knew he would find him there. He would find them all. His prisoners.
Until then, there were still miles to tread.
How could you do this, Dario?
--
HerO and I were in Washington, the only two members our team had dispatched. It was unlikely I would ever have a better opportunity, and yet, I had a feeling in my gut, a tightness of sorts, almost a reluctance to breathe, something which came from well honed instincts. Already I had taken Sheth. It should only get easier.
He had his back turned to me. Now was my chance. I sprang forward. Hero turned instantly. I jumped, hoping to overwhelm him. HerO leaned backwards, stretched his arms forward as though to meet me. No, it could not be. I was in the air, my momentum taken from me. He had me in a great manly hold and I could not breathe. The hotel room was turning upside down. No, I have destroyed myself.
“This is my skill,” he said.
I believe you.
He suplexed me into the floor. The earth shook. The ground cracked and opened, spewing acid vapor from the deep. Many were scarred, and some fell into the great darkness of the planet core to be lost forever.
I lay at HerO’s feet, crushed. I expected the finishing blow, but it never came. He turned around and made to walk away. I glared at the back of his ankles.The rage inside me grew and exploded. I grabbed his feet and pulled him down. My tentacles were a myriad steel-tight ropes. He could have won. He could have had the power. He thought this was a game. It wasn’t. I’m sorry. I only did this for eSports.
--
At noon Jinro met the holy man. His beard was grey, unkempt, but the face was young, the eyes alert. He wore a bandana, and a congress of men and women followed his trail.
“I have tried to explain to them,” said the holy man, “that I am no saint, only a mortal who by the accident of fate gained power, but they would not listen.”
Jinro listened. He bowed his head in respect so the others would not think him blasphemous. The holy man spoke on.
“Then I tried to chase them away, but they were too many. Finally, I tried running, but I was too slow. They always found me. Brought to my knees by desperation, I tried ending my life. Now they keep constant watch. I am their living Buddha, and they fear to lose me.”
Jinro spoke: “I’d like to help you, man, but I got my own shit going on.”
The holy man pulled off his bandana. He had long brown hair untouched by the grey of his beard. He drew close to Jinro and tied the bandana around his neck.
“I see. Finally, you have come. Now it seems so easy, the easiest thing in the world.”
The holy man crumpled, and from the ground spoke again, and closed his eyes. Flakes of ashen snow fell over his face, and were lost in his beard.
Jinro tightened his shoulders and walked on. Behind him the holy man’s followers were weeping, and some were whispering, bandana man, bandana man, while they rocked back and forth in their grief.
--
I never realized how dark my path was until that night. I was fighting for eSports, why wouldn’t they understand that? Everything I did was for their sake as much as mine. They were the sacrifice only I was willing make.
It was another tournament. Haypro and Ret were all that remained. The others had been taken away by other opportunities and the vicissitudes of life. All the better for me. There would be less resistance. It would be less messy.
We were out on the street, celebrating our runs. We had all gone 5-0 in our groups. They were so happy.
“Dario? Is something the matter?”
I can’t remember who it was that said that.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”
“Dario?”
I was ashamed to say it. How could I be so arrogant? I told myself it was the only way.
“But from now on, I will be Team Liquid.”
I grasped for them. They jumped over my tentacles in unison and kicked me in the face. I felt my nose shatter and staggered.
“So. It was you.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you do it?”
“The Koreans are killing us. It was the only way.”
“If you really think that then you’ve already lost.”
I almost thought they were right, but it was too late to turn to back. I charged. Ret threw a hook at me but I ducked beneath and piledrove into Haypro. The floor of the diner cracked under the force of our fall. He struggled, twisted beneath me and now I was on the floor but my grip was strong and I was crushing the air from him. I looked at Ret.
“You see? At this rate all you will amount to will be the coffee stain on Nestea’s newspaper!”
Ret smiled sadly.
“Dario. You forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“Nestea doesn’t drink coffee.”
The kick went straight to my groin, dislodging my hold of Haypro but not quite throwing me off.
“I have balls of--”
He kicked me again. And again. I was down on my back. The pain paralyzed me. Then it was gone. Two smooth steel balls rolled out from the inside of my pants. They both stared at them in horror.
“Shit,” said Ret. “I thought I was the only one.”
“Wait,” said Haypro, looking at Ret. “You have balls of steel too?”
“Actually, they’re more like platinum.”
“Wow, well, I mean, how does that work anyway?”
“I don’t know really, I was kinda born this way.”
“What about you, Dario?”
While they spoke glial reconstitution kicked in. The bruises went away. The pain vanished. My strength returned to me. It took only the lightest exertion of my fingers to catapult my body back to standing position.
“You know, this conversation doesn’t need to get any more awkward.”
“Agreed,” said Ret.
I stretched my hands till they were bent backwards. “So, how do we do this? Two on one, or would you like to take turns?” I didn’t give them time to answer. I exploded towards them, crashed into Ret hurling him intro a lamppost. Haypro caught hold of my shoulders and tore me from the ground, whirled me around and threw me away, but such was the power of my gluteus maximus that I stopped in mid air and hurled myself at them again. Too late. Haypro and Ret were holding hands. They were hugging. Light enveloped them and energy began to radiate outwards. The ground cracked around them and as the process came to its apex a wave of sound swept away from them with such force the windows all around were shattered.
“The fuck?”
It was then that I noticed it. I was such a fool. All that time, they were synching their APM. They were getting ready to fuse. I flew into them, hoping to stop their fusion, but as I collided with them, I was thrown backwards, the light exploding in my face. As I got up I saw a being made of pure energy float towards me.
“This is so awesome. Whenever I flex my muscles rocks and stuff start floating.”
It was hard to tell what kind of voice it was. It sounded like it was coming from the beyond.
“We’re gonna go at it now, oh yeah.”
The light finally dissipated. It was Ret.
“Where’s Haypro?”
“Haypro’s gone. And so is Ret. This is Retpro you’re talking to.”
“So, uh, why do you look like Ret then?”
“He was demonstrably more handsome in the eyes of the universe.”
“Right. So are we going to do this or what?”
And then what? We battled. Three straight days and nights we clashed in the sky. People looked up at our spectacle in awe and forever lost their vision when at last it seemed I’d dealt the killing blow. It was clear then to me I had gone beyond all possibility of defeat. I held Retpro by the throat, and gazed into eyes, which were like crackling lightning in the throes of battle. I smiled and said: “You see. Even if Nestea doesn’t drink coffee, it was probably somebody else’s coffee which they happened to put on Nestea’s newspaper, possibly MVP’s. So you are still like the coffee stain on his newspaper.”
“The thing is,” said Retpro, groaning with pain, “I’m not sure Nestea reads the papers.”
Another kick when straight to my groin, paralyzing me. Testicular manslaughter. My only weakness, twice exploited. I vowed it would never happen again and prepared to consume Retpro in retaliation for his offense, but in the instant it took me to regenerate, he had already fled, zipped away like lightning, leaving only a lingering taunt in his slipstream.
“And stop thinking out loud already!”
--
It was evening when he reached the open gates of Starleague Citadel. Looking at the mammoth structure was like gazing into a panel of obsidian. It soaked up the light all the while reflecting everything.
A deep, powerful voice rang from the darkness beyond the gates.
“Woah there. You finally made it, huh.”
“Who are you?”
Out of Starleague Citadel there came a gorilla, calmly padding toward Jinro.
“The fuck is this, man. Can’t you recognize your inner nature?”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I saw you draggin’ your sorry ass over here. Christ. They oughta call you the banana terran.”
“Hey, what the fuck. We’re like, in the middle of the ruined city which my asshole slash former friend and teammate destroyed because I wouldn’t join the dark side. Don’t start that shit.”
The gorilla shrugged.
“I’ll wait till we’re inside.”
Another figure appeared from out of the darkness of the gates. It waved.
“You guys coming in or what?”
“Wait,” said Jinro, “Tyler?”
“In the flesh, my man.”
“I thought you were like, busy making babies and stuff.”
“And it was very fulfilling. But it turns out I also needed to make nerds cry, as Artosis would put it. Anyway, come on in and meet the others.”
In they went, the happiness of old days coming alive in their hearts, if only for a moment. The inside of Starleague Citadel rose in great spirals, the walls lined with computers. When this place was newly built anyone could come and play. Tens of thousands of computers, all linked together, for the purpose of Starcraft.
“We’re not going up, though,” said Tyler. “All the pros are supposed to stick to the basement.”
They crossed the great atrium of the citadel, their words resounding into the empty space high above them. Below them, finest marble, lined with gold to mark the path.
“How many left?”
“What? Oh. Like, everybody, man. SlayerS, oGs, all the old teams, and some of the new ones. Even Yellow’s team.”
“Yellow? Wow. I thought he’d retired.”
“Yeah,” said the gorilla, “after crushing Boxer in that best of a thousand and one he decided he no longer had any reason to play.”
“So why’d he stick around then?”
Tyler’s face darkened. “TLO.”
“Of course. Figures.”
At the very end of the atrium a solitary doorway lay as if it was the last unnoticed detail of a greater work. It led down into darkness. The steps were grey cement and there were no handles. At the bottom a light flickered on and off, showing them the way.
“TLO wants us to stay down here and keep practicing for some reason.”
“Why?”
“Beats me. Listen. Not everybody’s in such good condition. Some people are kinda messed up. TLO’s handywork.”
They were down. The air was musty and dust lingered above them. All around, cobwebs were the houses of spiders which saw them as intruders, taking shelter for a mere glimpse in the life of their species. They entered a larger room, a place with no walls to separate them, only computers joined in LAN. They were everywhere, the players, some of their uniforms, which had grown old and ragged, others in pajamas, in all kinds of attire imaginable and they were all looking at them, confused, then wide-eyed, then smiling and finally grinning.
“Jinro!”
A dozen voice sounded in unison. Who could be waiting for him so eagerly? More rose up as they grew aware of him, and soon they were all around, wanting to see him, touch him, hear his voice and know it was not all a dream.
“Okay, everyone,” said Tyler, “give him some space. It’s been a long journey, I’m sure, and you’ll all be able to get your fair share.” A big silly grin spread over his face.
“What are you so happy about?”
“You,” said Tyler, “You’re the chosen one.”
“Oh, god. I’m just some guy, alright? Don’t get all Harry Potter on me.”
“But, dude, it’s like, all this time, TLO’s had us in here practicing, waiting for the moment that you showed up. I’m pretty sure something big is supposed to happen.”
“Christ. I knew somebody had to be here, but I didn’t imagine, I didn’t realize this would be going on. I just figured some guys would be hiding down here, or that you’d be prisoners, and I could get you out, then we’d be on the run together. I didn’t come here to engage in some kind of epic battle for the destiny of starcraft.”
“Dude, that’s what everybody here wants you to do. That’s why we’ve all been practicing. So we can just beat TLO together.”
“This ain’t some competition,” said the gorilla. “This is the real deal.”
And, finally, we are in the present. I stretch my consciousness to each of them and whisper: I will make the decision easy for you then. They are startled. They look around them, all in a panic. Some know in their bones it is time.
“Dario?” says Jinro.
Yes, it is me. All this time, I have been waiting for you. You are the final piece in my grand plan.
“What are you talking about, man?”
Listen. I will kill each and everyone of your friends if you do not surrender yourself.
Silence from them. The words must sink in. I wait. Then, the slightest drizzle of feeling pouring into my consciousness, growing hotter, heavier.
“Maybe you should go fuck yourself.”
They all say it. They all think it. All but one. You’ve made the right choice, Jinro. He makes no sign of hearing. No matter.
--
It is night and they are sleeping. Jinro wakes before all the others, and gingerly makes his away between their sleeping bags. He heads for the exit. A sleeper stirs, wakes. Jinro looks at the figure and realizes he knows this man.
“Nani.”
“So you’re leaving,” he says, drowsy, half-asleep. Jinro thinks he’s liable to forget the whole thing.
“Will you try to stop me?”
He shakes his head.
Jinro makes to leave, then turns and gazes at his countryman. “Give me a viking funeral.”
A nod. That is all. The others rustle in their sleep as he climbs the stairs, and he is gone. He has left all of them behind, even the gorilla, who is as much part of himself as he is.
He ascends Starleague Citadel. Once the gamers of Seoul came here to practice Starcraft. Many stars were born in this place, and now they are all extinguished. But I will revive them all, as soon as I have Jinro.
From the very top of the spiral, gazing at the atrium floor is like staring into a well of darkness which consumes all light, a black hole of sorts.
“I’m here,” he whispers, and Starleague Citadel opens itself to the heavens. And I am there, and no other, waiting. Light floods the citadel, blinding him. I carry him up with an invisible hand of pure energy. Finally, we can look each other in the eyes and be honest.
“I guess this is the end.”
“Yes, it is.”
I raise a hand and a beam of disintegrating energy gathers in my palm. I cast it towards him. In a split second it will be over. The beam flies, but then, it breaks. It scatters into a thousand wavelengths. How? I look down and see them all, flying towards me. Leading them there is Retpro, come back from his exile.
“Did you really think we’d let you slip away like that?”
“You know,” said Jinro, and he is smiling in spite of himself, in spite of what this rebellion means. “I kinda did actually. How did you know.”
“Really, man, seriously? You have talked in your sleep since, like, forever.”
Jinro shook his head. “Damn.”
“Then you are serious about this,” I say. “You will all die. Painfully.”
And out of this mighty host of progamers two figures come out and in a manner of worthy of their rank speak to me. Their language is Korean yet I understand it all the same. This is what they say to me.
“We have shed tears of blood, shredded the skin from our fingers, grew it anew and shredded it again in a never ending cycle. In our training, we sacrificed pieces of our humanity, becoming machines, all for eSports. We have made mouse and keyboard part of us, a very extension of our being. There is now no separation between man and Starcraft, and we ourselves are like tiny gods for whom the most difficult of mechanics are but trivial exercises in the face of our supreme mastery and indomitable will.
“Yet though our training was harsh, and we set aside all other concerns, we still formed bonds of friendship no struggle could break. Training together, foreigners and koreans, friends and rivals, teachers and students, we reached the very zenith of Starcraft together, and there is now no difference between one or the other, be it in power or style, endurance or creativity, micro or macro. We are the same, part of a whole which is as unbreakable as the sun, and whose memory shall fade only at the end of time, when darkness envelops everything. And even then, we are destined to come again.”
I consider their words. “Well spoken, Emperor, Storm Zerg. Very well, I concede defeat.”
Shock and bewilderment spread through their ranks. Even now they do not trust me, expecting a yet fouler trecheary.
“This was always my dream,” I say, and abandon my powers. I crash towards the same earth which I burned in my fury. I should have been more merciful. Yet all will be well now. They have proven to me that nothing I have done was in vain. My dream has taken shape before my eyes, foreigners and koreans as equals. And I, I am the one that made it possible.
Tears of fire burst from my eyes, blinding me, and in my joy all consciousness is lost, and so I fall nameless from the sky, into the ruins of the city I destroyed.
--
Retpro laid TLO’s body on the floor of the atrium. The progamers lay waiting all around.
“What are we going to do with him?”
Repro considered this.
“First...” He placed an arm made of lightning over TLO’s chest, then dug into it. Exertion showed on his face, and blinding light burst from their contact point as Retpro pulled HerO out. The others were in awe. “And now...” Sheth followed. Both were laid next to TLO, and all were unconscious.
“There is only one thing left,” Retpro. He lit up from the heart of him, a light so bright there was nothing but a burning silhouette left, expanding, then doubling, extra arms and legs growing, and finally, separating into two figures and dying down.
“Damn that was nice,” said Haypro.
“Good to be back though,” said Ret.
Just then, they all saw each other as if for the first time. Ret, Haypro, Tyler and Jinro and his gorilla. Sheth and HerO still sleeping on the floor, and further away from them, TLO. Something would have to be done about him, but yes, it was good to be back.
