He hadn't been waiting for this, unlike everyone else; he hadn't been tracking a countdown on a side monitor, half-reading forum threads, or memorizing the perfect build for launch. The full-dive headset had sat unopened on his desk for days, tucked away until it blended into the background. He only picked it up now because the share house was quiet and he had nothing better to do.
He opened the box in one motion. The packaging was simple but intentional. Inside was the headset, matte black and seamless, lighter and sturdier than expected, made to be worn and forgotten.
Someone knocked on his door, soft but deliberate. They'd already decided to come in, answer or not. The door opened a moment later, just enough for her to lean through. One hand on the frame, she looked at him as if she'd rehearsed this and forgotten every word.
"Hey," she said. She stepped in just enough to cross the doorway but didn't fully enter.
She dressed for a night out. A short black dress hugged her waist and sat just high enough on her thighs to seem intentional. The neckline dipped to frame what she wanted to notice without making her choice obvious. Her black hair fell over one shoulder, styled but relaxed. The way she shifted her weight showed she was used to attention; her eyes lingered on him a second too long.
He looked up from his screen.
She shifted under his gaze, brushing her hair behind her ear, a quick gesture to reset when her confidence faltered.
"I was just wondering…" she began, pausing as the words caught before she pushed through, her tone unintentionally soft. "…do you want my socials?"
He blinked, looked at her, then back at his screen. He said, completely genuine, "…sorry, I don't have any change."
She froze. "…what?" Her voice dropped, uncertain if she misheard.
He reached for his wallet anyway, already halfway there, flipping it open with quiet focus. "Sorry," he said, glancing inside. "I don't carry cash."
She was in shock; her face turned red, then pale, then red again. Her mouth hung open. Her lips pressed together, and her expression tightened as something between embarrassment and disbelief settled in. For a second, it looked like she might say something else, something sharper, something that would fix the balance of the conversation. She didn't. Instead, she turned a little too quickly, hand catching the door on the way out. "…right," she said, not looking back. The door shut a little louder than necessary.
The room went quiet. He stared at his screen, moved his mouse, and saw another message.
[Are you free tonight?]
He typed without thinking: [yeah, servers just launched!]. Almost instantly: [You look really good today]. He glanced, then typed: [thanks, I showered.] He hit send, leaned forward, and clicked into the game. His headset lit up. He lay back, muttering, "Lock in."
He'd seen the ads and enough clips to know the pitch: no controllers, no physical input, direct thought-driven action. He didn't care if it worked. He readjusted his chair and slid the headset on without hesitation.
There was no jarring switch, no loading screen. His real room simply peeled away layer by layer until nothing anchored him; he was here; the next, he wasn't. This new space had no walls or corners, just a pale, undefined gradient stretching endlessly, like a canvas waiting to be painted. It wasn't empty, just unfinished. Then he noticed the ground, it was solid, he shifted his weight and felt immediate, consistent resistance, no lag, no simulated wobble, just real, steady footing like in real life. He stood, breathing without thinking; it felt normal.
A calm, omnipresent voice spoke, "Welcome to Hiim Online, the first fully immersive virtual environment. All sensory systems are active. Please proceed with character initialisation." A menu flickered into existence, not sliding in or fading, but simply there, [Select Class.]
He skimmed options: damage dealers, Mages, and support for those craving optimisation. His gaze settled on a Tank; it showed the class's role: stand, take hits, survive, and draw agro. No precision or lightning reflexes needed, just position yourself and absorb blows. He selected it.
The menu pulsed once, then moved on.
[Select Life Skills.]
He lingered; most choices implied gathering materials, crafting plans, and memories he didn't want to track. Finally, three glowed gathering and cooking, which meant picking up items and turning them into something useful and sufficient. He chose both. Finally, he also chose live streaming because he could gain more experience in gathering and cooking, even if he had only 1 viewer.
Character creation: he clicked [randomize]. He didn't care, as long as he could cook and gather. He confirmed, and the interface vanished. The world shifted. His center of balance lowered; his view dropped. He blinked and looked at smaller hands, slimmer wrists, a lighter, functional body. He flexed his fingers with no delay. He stepped; each movement felt natural.
[Enter Name:...]
Names are usually important. Whatever, his fingers hovered over the blue screen in front of him and typed.
Little Tank.
He hit the big floating [ENTER] sign and loaded in for the first time. Immediately, he noticed he was much shorter than expected. As he looked at his reflection in a puddle on the muddy road, he stepped closer and saw himself: a compact, female albino wolf. White twin tails brushed her shoulders; pale fur and twitching ears perched atop her head, and a thick, soft tail swayed behind her.
"…okay," he whispered. He turned, caught the tail's weight, and said, "Small hit box, that's good."