Page 19 of Forbidden Game

Speedrunning doesn’t really make a lot of money outside of streaming, but it’s always been my favorite subsect of the gaming space. Some people just enjoy beating their own times, but I love the challenge of finding new ways to complete the game faster. Not everyone is able to find a new skip or exploit, a way to glitch through the game, but if you are someone who does, your mark is permanent—your name becomes known in history.

That’s how I got addicted to speedrunning.

In the gaming community, I wasn’t Parker Covington, heir to a multibillion dollar hotel conglomerate and tabloid-pronounced party boy. I was EnglishCoffee, the speedrunner who completed the fastest run of Understory at the age of sixteen, beating the previous record holder by an entire eight minutes. I’m still the record holder. I found a skip that lets players clip out-of-bounds and circumvent a major boss fight, and it is still used by gamers all over the world. The knowledge of that makes me feel like a badass.

Creating EnglishCoffee and rising through the ranks of the gaming and streaming community is an accomplishment that I can only credit myself for. I’ve spent hours platinuming games, learning their ins and outs, because I love that moment when I see the little trophy that ranks me in the top percent of players worldwide.

That isn’t to say I don’t like being Parker Covington. Both halves of my life are fucking amazing. I was flying to Paris at fifteen to party in the most exclusive clubs with literal royalty. When I was nineteen, I was invited to an exclusive rave in Monaco before watching the Formula 1 qualifiers from the paddock the next day.

I’ve never been one to settle.

Why not have the best of both worlds?

Just because other people can’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t.

Sure, it gets exhausting, but there is always a little pain that comes with fame.

I’m close to finishing the game now. Around fifteen minutes, based on my previous run times. I just need to fast travel to the final city, defeat the boss, and I’m done. It’s the one battle I can’t avoid during the gameplay since it is quite literally needed to trigger the end scene.

My focus tunnels as I fight to keep my time. The tips of my fingers dance across my keyboard, and my right wrist twitches side to side as it controls my mouse.

I can feel my heart accelerating in my chest. I really don’t want to repeat this speedrun again tomorrow. I need to get my time right, now.

The final boss’s health dips into the red, and I watch as my next blow defeats him.

I quickly maneuver my left thumb to button mash the SPACE key. I skip through the final cutscene with ease, and the second the end credits load, I hit the timer to stop it.

Two hours, forty-three minutes, and three seconds.

My head drops to my chest, and I smile.

Thank fuck.

I quit the game and then set about turning off my screen recording and my webcam recording before popping both clips into a shared folder for our team to go over. My speedruns are pretty easy to edit because, well, there is no editing, but I don’t upload every speedrun to my channel. Some are more performative, I’ll chat during them and make them entertaining for subscribers to watch as VODs. Others are runs just for me, to analyze and learn from. Today was one of those.

I push away from my desk and stand up, letting my chair roll behind me. Stretching, my shoulders make an audible clicking noise as they loosen up. These next few weeks are going to be brutal on my body. I’ll need to be careful on my wrist.

I send a quick text to Sydney letting her know that I finished my practice hours for the day and update her on my new run time. As much as I’m obsessed with her, I’m also deathly scared of her. She was camped out in our apartment most of last week to keep an eye on me, making sure that I was sticking to my new practice schedule.

If I wasn’t a little bit of a masochist, her overbearing nature wouldn’t be such a turn on. Instead, I found it a treat every time I left my streaming room to find her either perched at our kitchen counter working or lounging away on our couch. Her stormy eyes would narrow in on me, and I relished the attention as she logged my hours, run times, and stats.

After five days of successfully following her schedule to a T, she deemed me trustworthy enough to work on my own and went back to her own apartment. If I wasn’t serious about winning this tournament, I would’ve fudged my hours to get her to stay around more. Sydney hasn’t been over since Friday, and her cherry scent has long since dissipated.

When I open my door, I’m assaulted by the bright lights from our kitchen. I practically hiss as my eyes squeeze shut before I force them to blink open. I rip open the fridge and pull out an energy drink. Cracking it open, the hissing sound provides a sense of comfort. I drain half of the fizzy caffeinated beverage while shuffling items around the fridge.

Nothing looks good.

I’ll order in with the boys instead.

The apartment is silent, so I trudge over to Aleks’ streaming room and shove the door open. The room is lit in a deep red glow, but he isn’t inside. It’s midafternoon, so he could still be sleeping.

I really thought once he got a girlfriend that his hours would get a little more normal, but Aleksander is still as nocturnal as ever.

Shifting down the hall, I pause outside Aleks’ bedroom and lean my ear against the frame. When no sounds of pleasurable moans creep through the crack, I deem it safe enough to open.

I scowl when I’m greeted by his empty, rumpled bed.

I spin around, all patience lost as I use my foot to push down the handle to Jackson’s streaming room and kick it open.

---