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"Player five-kay-alpha, time to wake up!"
My eyes blink away the crust that had formed in their corners. How long had it been since they last chose me, since they used me last? My own internal biological clock claims to weeks of dormancy.
An electronic voice bleats from the sole speaker of my gray, padded room. It tells me to do something, I obey before the command has even finished. I rise quickly and make my way over to the stainless steel trough. It is opposite to my sleep chamber, a now-hallow silver pill large enough to house my weak body.
"Go to your feeding trough, we need yer nice and plump, heh-heh-heh."
FWOOMP. The chamber on the east side of the trough jettisons Silver 2 kibble feed into my trough. I stoop down and start bringing the food to my mouth. It is mushy, rife with water content that will keep me hydrated without the aid of the stasis sleep tube. My teeth are quickly speckled with what I can't swallow, and I fervently wish to feel a toothbrush against my teeth. But the cleaning always happens after I am put back into stasis.
"Eat up, five-kay-alpha! Get it, get it." The announce's whinnying hurts my head. "We got gametime in four minutes."
He says this. I am already in my chair, facing my computer screen. Not my computer. A computer. It belongs to them, just like everything else. Just like I do.
The only program on the computer is League of Legends. The speaker-man catches on that I am resigned to my role as fodder, and leaves me a beautiful moment of silence to launch the game. Once the launcher is ready and on the 'find game' page, I sit there, motionless, a statue. These three or so minutes before gametime, they are the only thing that belongs to me.
I experience white-out. I smile dumbly, perhaps like a cow does when it is treated well, fed good grass, petted by the farmer's children, warmed by the sun, tugged on a leash, taken to the room in the back of the barn--and slaughtered.
Three.
Two.
One.
Behind me, a large television display flits to life. It is hosting a stream, with none other than the famous FTHammer. He waves to his audience.
"What's up people!" He yells. "Queue is like ten whole minutes today, man. Riot? Fiii-ii-x your game. For now, what say we go for another bout of bronze to challenger, eh?"
I hit the button. Enter queue. A match is found instantly.
5K Alpha. Top lane.
821C. Jungle.
621E. Support.
113P. Marksman.
3K. Middle Lane.
These are the designated livestock for today's bronze-to-challenger highlight match. Tens of thousands of viewers flock to the stream occurring on the screen, eager to watch the bloodsport.
"Pick Teemo," speaker-man orders.
Of course. When it is my turn to pick, I choose Teemo.
"Smite."
"Am I jungle?" I ask, monotone as to not sound resistant. I need to be sure.
"Smite."
I choose smite.
Behind me, FTHammer says: "uh guys, lemme be educational for a moment here. See, this guy chose Teemo top with smite, that's not very good. It might help you kill the canon, but it means you have less potential in lane fights. I definitely would recommend ignite..."
My team is forced into equally-odd choices, and the streamer runs through us, criticizing our composition, our spells, everything. When we hit the loading screen, he howls with laughter at the runes we were forced to run.
The moment I get into the match, speaker-man has another order.
"Act excited."
"Am I the fanboy this game?" I ask.
"5-kay, don't be a sh*t for once. Act. Excited."
I immediately enter into All Chat:
Is that THE FTHammer? Oh my goooood xD
621E types: Game lost LOL.
I type my scripted entry. Hey but at least we'll learn a bunch watching the vod hehe.
Yeah, you're right.
"Whoaaaaa!" FTHammer barks with laughter. "Dude, these guys know me!"
GLHF :) he types.
The game begins. 821C attempts to take his first buff. FTHammer descends upon him immediately. FTHammer is pummeling him, and our bot lane moves to assist--then stop. Speaker-man must have reprimanded them.
"So, uh, yeah, the jungler's team needed to help there. Now this dude is way behind. Also, his mechanics were super bad, I shouldn't have won that haha."
I mindlessly attack my minions. A great many games ago, it was easier to miss them, to keep my CS low. I keep accidentally last hitting. After so long, it is almost difficult to play poorly.
FTHammer proceeds to destroy our team. Death, death, death. Unlike real livestock, we can be consumed forever. An endless deluge of game facts assail my ears. Mindless prattling I wish would stop... but things need to be kept educational.
"You're next, five-kay," speaker-man tells me. "And stop CSing so damned much! Eight farm a minute ain't right."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Be worse."
I hit level six. Without giving it a second thought, I throw down my mushrooms in places where I suspect FTHammer will path. I am not supposed to do that. I am supposed to waste my shrooms on the top bushes. But my mind, it feels so tired. I am so exhausted. I tune out speaker-man, the streamer, and just continue to play my lane.
The enemy top laner, just a random silver, attempts to engage on me--likely because FTHammer is on approach. Silence roars in my head as I kite away from where the streamer is likely to approach, and by kiting efficiently, I kill the top laner before the jungle arrives. Half of my health remains.
FTHammer sprints at me with his Kha'zix. I duck towards my mushroom, and he jumps. Right on top of one. He is slowed. Too distracted by his own endless ranting about game mechanics, he makes the mistake of wasting time on chasing me, before doubling back, changing his mind. And I pursue him.
Dart.
Dart. Speaker-man is screeching at me.
Dart.
An enemy has been slain.
I am agape at what just happened. Before me laid the dead body of the consumer. Right away, I spin around to observe his stream, where the put-together man had fallen silent.
"D-Did I.... Did... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
No, no, no--he pounds his desk, slaps his computer, flails about. On his webcam, a team of mental tilt support agents flock to his aid, hugging him, stroking his hair, holding him tight while he screams and cries and cusses at me.
"You did something dumb," speaker-man growls at me. "Real dumb, five-kay."
"NO, NO," FTHammer wails. "It's not possible! I-I can't... I'm gonna get myself banned. I'll get myself banned!"
He spams the chat with slurs and insults to my mother.
The collar around my neck that I had never taken note of lights up red.
Speaker-man informs me of what is going on.
"Ya learned too much. I liked ya a bit, five-kay, but it's time to put you out to pasture..."
I smile. The collar glows an even more intense red. A ringing starts in my ears.
Is it over? Have I escaped? Do I finally get t
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