The best player in Final Fantasy XI and his entourage of sexy, young, bitches, always left him bewildered with what to do next. He lead a guild first and foremost, a social butterfly in it's prime, but with a conquering fist. The agony he felt encumbered by the balancing act of his online world, and 13 girl friends, made him quite fussy and relocated in his personal life. There was an eloquent nature to his presumably docile life behind the computer, and the equivalency of the power he held.

And thus lied therein his problem. His affable status and noble place in the world were something betwixt passions. On one hand, he felt the conquering reigns sternly. His internal decimation in lieu of a grounded and self explanatory lifestyle stole him from his passion often. There were days he was split and scattered between the game and his mistress. Final Fantasy XI left him feeling incredibly under stimulated, between various lengthy spans of objective distances, circadian rhythm disruptions, and missed phone calls from the various women he was shattering the hopes and dreams of. What leapt to him in ecstatic jolts of passion were now a muddied splotch of incorrigible tasks he was beset by on all sides. He left his computer in silence. He would forget to disband groups, and bid farewell to his guild mates frequently. Again and again, he went to sleep alone beside his night's mistress. The gallivanting call to which, similar to the game, was becoming more muted. There was one morning, however, where he was called to a new journey for himself. He had some type of inspiration to apply for a job. Obviously noting himself to be currently unemployed, he had living arrangements that operated as his nesting ground. One of the women whom had been aside him half asleep from a drugged stupor, reacted by panicking upon the ringing of the telephone.

It's for you. She told him, and handed him the phone.

I've got 2 words for you: Cash, Prizes. the phone buzzed and pulsed in his ear. And it's like a treasure map.

His eyes wrinkled at the words.

And if I fail?

You'll be beset by all forces the shortcomings of your deeds. It was obvious he had begun to smile.

You're on, tubby.

He hung up the phone.

He gathered his belongings together, and kissed the woman of the night good-bye. On his way pulling out of the driveway, he threw his phone into the dumpster. Intuitively leaving behind everything, this was no ordinary job.
He still had his laptop, and by God he'd need it, there were various places he needed to be in Final Fantasy XI to keep up his appearances. There was a whole economy he perched himself above. Plenty of illicit real-market trading practices he was a part of, providing many members of his guild the means to procure beer every month. In lieu of problems outside of the world, he kept his grief and sadness inside the game. Because he had to get that treasure, and he had to get it quickly.
Many people mindlessly hurried to the spot most sensibly thought for the spot to be. Find the red rose, a book unread, keeping your hands to your self. It had to be a Mapplethorpe exhibit. If he wasn't the first one there, he might as well be the last. Eyeing the horizon line of his dashboard, he glazed a less than legal strategy of getting his car through. Quickly turned the wheel, exact trajectory, and floored it. He grit his teeth, God I hope there's no police. And there were.
There were, and there were a lot of them.
Then, the party invite sound played.
They needed someone to heal CoP missions.

The grace he felt maneuvering traffic at speeds of up to 120 MPH, causing very few accidents as he swerved and drifted around cars and obstacles. Final Fantasy XI can be played with the keyboard num pad, and you can easily control the menu and movement with one hand. This made the entire process of overcoming the chase a breeze. In fact, he was actually quite bored with this entire encounter. And then the car flipped. He caught a glimpse of the museum, but it was almost instantaneous that it all went black. In a temporal gaze, something out of the darkness called to him. He heard him feintly. G...aiii...jin.... It echoed louder and louder. Why... do you play this game...? His heart was full of Hironobu Sakaguchi.

We made... this game... Half of our team had their dicks in their hand... It is garbage... Everything you've accomplished... is the accomplishments of others we formed the systems of which to trap you within... We left you a hollow husk, driven to patterns and sequences to drive at your own reflection we mold you into through the game... If you weren't driven to succeed here, the other areas you cannot find any control over wouldn't rule you so much... That's why we built Final Fantasy XI... Look up what a skinner box is... Retard....

Flames began to stab at his feet.