OASIS OCT Round 1 (Desmond) - Part 1

Tap tap...

Tap tap...

Tap tap...

Desmond tapped his foot for what seemed like the millionth time. He felt like he had been waiting there forever. He was beginning to get impatient, after being kept in the lurch like this for so long. Where the hell was his opponent? How was he supposed to find them? And what in blazing heck was he going to do when he found them? He'd shot countless zombies, ghouls, mummies with his trusted bow and arrow... but another person? That was the one thing that worried him more than anything. Was he simply expected to beat his opponent in a friendly contest? Or was he supposed to kill them... the very thought made him cringe. He had accepted Pay-paer's challenge with great gusto, but now he wasn't so sure.

Suddenly, without warning, the air around Desmond began to shimmer, almost like a heat haze. Desmond looked all around himself, confused, as everything around him got blurry. Then, out of nowhere, everything turned white. "What... what is this shit? Man, I'm seriously trippin' here" Desmond wondered, as he stood still, waiting for something else crazy to happen.

Suddenly, the whiteness faded away, and his surroundings began to take form.

And now Desmond was completely bemused.

"Wha... what the fuck is this shit?"

"Is this..."

"Did I get taken to the 80s or some shit?"

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"Sarah, you really think this was a good idea?"

"Roger, this was the only way out of that place. Now all we have to do is win this game, and we're home free... I think."

Roger stood back for a moment, before sighing and following Sarah away from the portal that had led them here. He had only just begun to make sense of how he had arrived in Sanctum, and now he was in this "OASIS" place. Where or what they were heading towards, he had no idea, but one thing was for sure; whatever challenge stood in his way, whoever tried to turn him back, he would cut them down. He had to escape this virtual world, and get back to reality. That, more than anything, was what drove him forward now. He would not be forgotten... he would not be replaced. He was the real Roger Eldison, and he would not let himself be replaced by a fake, an imposter.

Sarah, walking ahead of him, looked around her, as the environment around them slowly began to take shape. When they had first arrived, they had been surrounded by bland, colourless pixels. As they had walked on, however, the pixels around them had begun to take on colour, and mould into various shapes and forms. As Sarah watched on, she began to see trees, leaves on the ground. The path they were following now looked like a track in the middle of a forest.

Roger and Sarah reached a fork in the track, where the path split in two around a large tree. Pausing, Sarah looked down both tracks, but both appeared the same, leading further into the seemingly infinite forest. "Well, what do you think, Roger? what way should we go?" Turning to her, Roger replied, "How should I know? You're the one that brought me here, I thought you would've-" but cut himself off, as he noticed the tree in front of him, and the piece of paper attached to it. Taking it down, he unfolded it, and began to read.

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Dear sweethearts,

You're late! But don't worry, I hadn't planned on starting the FABULOUS fun without you, so you won't miss out!

Anyways, you're now in my FABULOUS game world, OASIS! Soon, you'll come across others here, many others. Here's the FABULOUS part; you get to fight them! Simply get past them, and you're home free, son!

Enjoy, and have a FABULOUS time!

Love,
Pay-Paer XOXO

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Finishing, he handed the letter to Sarah, who began to read. "Sweethearts? What is he implying?" she muttered, as she read on. Once she was done reading, she turned to Roger. "Well, I guess I made the right choice bringing us here. All we have to do is get past these... others mentioned in the letter, and we're out of here."

"Well, I guess you're right. We'd better get moving and find our first opponent quick", Roger spoke quietly, a small smirk appearing on his face, "We can't let the fun start without us." Making a snap decision, he decided to head down the left path. Sarah followed closely behind him. "Why the left path, Roger? Why not the right path?" Sarah asked him. "What difference does it make? This is a game; we're bound to find someone eventually, wherever we go."

"Fine. Let's go." They continued on.

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The parachute pants...

The afros...

The sound of Bob Marley and Elvis Presley coming at him from every direction...

Desmond could hardly believe his eyes. It was really as though he had been taken back to the early 80s. Only moments before had he been suspended high above the ground, and now he was... here, wherever or whenever he was. He was more confused than ever now. Was he still in the game? Had he been somehow transported back in time? Or was this yet another of his psychedelic beer-induced dreams?

"Bloody hell, this shit ain't for real" Desmond whispered to himself, as he slowly walked through the town he was in. There were many people around him, and yet they seemed to ignore him. It was almost as if they weren't really there... or maybe he was the one who wasn't there. Whatever the case, he had no choice but to keep walking. This was obviously where he was supposed to meet his first opponent for this "tournament"... but where were they? Had they already been and gone? Desmond started to get a little worried.

"I guess I could try sticking my head in one of these bars here, maybe someone can point me in the right direction." Desmond thought, as he headed towards the nearest set of double doors. "Not that anybody would be able to help me here, I mean- HOLY SHIT THEY HAVE SPACE INVADERS!" Desmond shouted, as his eyes were ineroxibly drawn to the corner of the room. He could hardly believe his eyes: there, right in front of him, sat an original Space Invaders arcade terminal. He had not seen or played one of these for years, but remembered them fondly from his childhood days. While his school friends had been into more modern shoot-em-ups, RPGs and racing games, there was something about the retro, two-dimensional euphoria that could not be experienced  by any way other than firing pixellated bullets at hordes of ever-advancing alien hordes.

Desmond approached the terminal, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Fuck me, I don't have a quarter!" he mused to himself, thinking how close, and yet how far he was from experiencing the joy of his childhood days once more. "And there ain't any sign of anything on the ground" He sighed to himself, "Welp, I guess there's nothing else for it. Surely I can haggle one bloody coin off the barman."

Desmond walked to the bar, and almost immediately noticed something rather strange; although the pub was packed, there was nobody sitting at the bar. It was almost as though they had been repelled by something. Approaching the barman, he noticed something else definitely out of the ordinary, whatever 'ordinary' was in this place; the man who stood before him was again completely different to those around him. He had coarse black hair, an eyepatch over his left eye, blue suit, and a grey scarf, which was exactly the same colour as his grey, lifeless skin. The other thing which creeped Desmond out was his eyes. While one was covered by an eyepatch, the other was red and bloodshot; it almost looked as the red was leaking out of his eye, and slowly spreading across his face.

"Hey man, you... umm.. haven't got a quarter to spare for the game over there?" Desmond asked the man behind the bar, but to no avail. The man simply stood there, unmoving, staring at him, as if trying to kill him with his gaze. "Uhh, hello? Hey, barman, you hear me? Earth to weirdo, I'm talking to you!" Desmond continued, waving his hand in front of the stranger's face. This did not help him any more, as the man continued to glare at him.

"Gaaaaaah! Doesn't anybody in this place even know me? I'm the incomparable Desmond, and all you freaks don't even give me a simple hello?" Desmond shouted in frustration, turning around and storming out of the bar. To come so close to his childhood dream, only to be held back by some psycho-looking freak! How the fates teased him so.

What Desmond failed to notice, as he stormed away from the bar in sheer frustration, was the strange barman exiting close behind him. Hiding behind a lamp-post, he took notice of the direction Desmond was heading. Once he was far enough away, he emerged from his hiding spot, and took off quietly after him.

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"Sarah, you hear that?"

"Yeah... just... sounds quite close."

Roger and Sarah headed towards the source of the sound. The forest around them seemed to be thinning, and they were able to see through the canopy of the trees for the first time in a while. The sky was a bright, almost unnatural blue, deviod of any clouds. As they walked on, the sound they were hearing got louder; it appeared to be music of some sort, but whoever was singing was unknown to them.

Finally emerging from the forest, they found themselves on the border of what seemed to be some kind of town. They could see a few people walking around, and the clothes and hairstyles they donned seemed completely alien to the two of them. Big, poofy hairdos, bright, baggy pants; Roger and Sarah had not seen their like in reality before. Sure, they had seen pictures of said fashions online, but they were so-called "retro" fashions. Certainly not something a 15-year old boy would want to be caught wearing.

As they walked down what seemed to be the main street, they noticed something odd: the people around them seemed to be unaware of their presence. Even though they walked right past them, not even an inch away, they paid them no heed, not even turning their heads a little to the new arrivals. Roger approached one of the citizens, and asked him "Hey, uhh, you got any idea where I-" but stopped, realising his efforts were futile, as he had been completely ignored.

"Well, this hardly seems like the sort of place your opponent would be. What do we do now?" Sarah asked Roger. "I have no bloody idea, I-" Roger started, but was cut off yet again, as his attention was drawn to a commotion from a nearby bar. A young man exited the bar, slamming the door behind them. He seemed to be in a rather bad mood, almost as if he was as lost as they were. His clothes were nothing like those around them, but surely there was no way he would pay them any heed... right?

Roger, expecting to be shunned, paid the newcomer no heed. As he approached them, however, he stopped, and turned to them. "I wouldn't bother going in there, kids; the barman's a complete creep and stooge". Storming away, Roger and Sarah were able to see him from the back for the first time. They noticed the large, unusual bracelet around his wrist, again unlike anything around them. Their attention, however was drawn to the bow and pouch of arrows on his back.

"Why would someone in a place like this be carrying a weapon like that?" Sarah asked Roger. "You don't think that maybe he's..."

Roger, eyes transfixed on the stranger, almost whispered, "Could he really be..."

"Our opponent?"