Page 12 of Fake Game

Even after all this time, she’s still pissed.

Ten years ago, I helped my high school best friend, Aleksander, start his streaming career as the infamous masked gamer, NightBlade32, before eventually dropping out of college my sophomore year to join him—which my parents didnotapprove of. A few years later, we recruited one of our close online friends—Parker—to join us and formed a group called The System. The three of us rose to fame as masked video game streamers, accumulating millions of views and millions of dollars.

We are the most in-demand gamers in the industry, but that doesn’t mean my traditional family understands what that means. To most of them, I’m just spending my days messing around online. Even with the rise of esports in China, it is still a foreign concept to them. It would be fair to say that my relatives are split in their support of me, and I am always fighting an uphill battle to win their approval.

It’s exhausting never having anyone on my side.

“Fine,” I grumble.

“Thank you, and don’t forget your sister has another piano recital in a few weeks.”

“It’s already on my calendar.”

“Good, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye bye.”

“Bye bye.”

She hangs up, and I’m left in the silence of my car. I don’t even bother turning my music on. I’m too annoyed to appreciate it. I just want to stew in my own frustration.

How many failed dates would I need to go on until they give up?

Too many.

Fuck. I wish there was a way out of this without having to actually get a real girlfriend.

I mentally accept my death sentence as I swing into the private underground parking garage at our apartment complex and park in my designated spot among Aleks’ and Parker’s luxury vehicles.

My mood stays sour the entire elevator ride up to the penthouse. I stop to grab a sparkling water from the fridge before heading into my streaming room.

The tension in my shoulders instantly loosens once I’m surrounded by nothing except the green LED glow of the room. I drop onto my gaming chair and crack open my can as I start my computer up. My PC whirs to life, and I admire it with a sense of pride. I built the entire thing from scratch. It had taken longer to build than planned because the graphics card I’d wanted was on backorder, but now it ran like a beauty with no lag. Custom PC builds can get pricey, but they are worth it if you’re an invested gamer.

A notification pops up in the corner of my monitor, alerting me that Parker and Aleks are already online—which I gathered from how quiet the penthouse was when I came in. Even when we aren’t live streaming, we are probably playing video games. When we stream, we have to beon, but on nights like tonight, we like to play just for the hell of it because it helps us destress and have fun. It’s important for us to do both, otherwise we could risk losing our love for the games to the constant pressure.

I click on my friends list and scan to see who else is online.

Lee’s playingGods League, the most popular 5v5 MMO game and the top esport game, with Aleks, Parker, and two of our pro-gamer friends, Wylder and Ryder—twins who go by the gamertags WyldShot and SmoothRyde.

My eyes linger on the little round circle framing Deer’s profile picture.

She hasn’t been online in days, but I can see her racking up gameplay hours offline.

Not that I’ve been stalking her or anything, I’m just paying close attention. She’s been quiet ever since the swatting, and it doesn’t sit well with me.

The boys and I were swatted a few years back at the old warehouse we used to use for streaming before we moved into our current penthouse apartment. It had been a scary as fuck experience. Nothing prepares you for an entire SWAT team barging in, waving guns, and shouting at you out of nowhere.

Deer is still new to the gaming world compared to the rest of us, and I see the way the rise to fame unsettles her when she thinks no one is watching. I just wish she wasn’t so stubborn. It pisses me off that she is still staying in that apartment when Parker has clearly pointed out its shitty security.

A notification pops up and I slide on my headset before clicking on it to join the Discord server Parker’s invited me to.

I’m instantly assaulted by him yelling, “What the actual fuck?”

“RIP, dude,” Ryder laughs.

“You wankers could have saved me.” Parker’s London accent thickens the more frustrated he gets.

“You are literally support, English,” Lee sighs. “That’s your job.”

---