Epitaph: Tartarus Approaching

—Japan, 2004.

Numerous players gathered at the arena, hosted by Akira, day in and day out. It was a craze. Just by logging in, players could compete with opponents all around the country, and could showcase their skills to the fullest.

Things always happened in real-time in the arena, including the News File. A single action could earn a spotlight and the praise of other players. Players were revered for killing many others, and those who acquired a hard-to-obtain skill, for example, were also picked up in the News File. The survivor of the week, in particular, would garner the applause and respect of all of the players. It couldn’t get any better — anyone could become a hero here. It is a primal human instinct to crave the attention and reassurance of others, and Akira’s game definitely fulfilled that need. The harsh environment of the arenas made it only natural that players with noteworthy performances were praised. Players forgot to sleep and eat as they dove deep into the game.

Akira only watched all of this with satisfaction, unaware of the approaching pitfall: a Tartarus. Later, he would call it a black hole. At this time, something that would inhale and swallow everything in its path was about to be born.

An incredible social networking service that sucked in the entirety of Japan’s online society... Mizi. The social network had a quiet start, but once the ignition was lit, it spread like wildfire. Friends recruited friends who recruited their friends... an endless chain. After its first year, the service hosted 200,000 then 2 million after its second year. 6 million after the third year, and 14 million after the fourth. This was truly a phenomenon. There, users could interact with all of their friends, as well as meet new people. No need to go through the hassle of creating a blog site. Everything was made easy for the user. Before this, if any individual wanted to publish any information online, they had to create a website. Now, by registering to Mizi, it was all done for them. First, the less tech-savvy women jumped on the service, and the men followed that in swarms. In the blink of an eye, individual websites decayed, blogs disappeared, and all the text-based sites could no longer be found, all swallowed up by the black hole that was Mizi.

Initially, Akira wasn’t threatened at all by it, simply ignoring it. Just a blog site, he thought. But, once the user base exploded, and Mizi began gathering numerous video games and publishing applications, Akira felt a sense of fear. The social network with such an overwhelming population reached into the realm of video games. Setting trends was a numbers game. It was clear to see that anything popularized on the site would become mainstream.

“Whoa whoa whoa...”

The popular games on there were all cuddly games, like farming, cooking in a restaurant, etc., that involved sending friends stars and hearts and such. These were casual co-op games, the polar opposite of Akira’s game.

“This isn’t good...”

That was an understatement. He could see his player base plummeting, and less and less people showing up to the arenas. Everyone was blogging, interacting with friends, and playing on cute applications on Mizi. Everyone in Japan was there, so it was only natural that people spent more and more time on it. If they were playing Akira’s game, they couldn’t be on Mizi.

“Dammit! What am I supposed to do now...!?”

Akira could not have been the only one troubled by Mizi. Those who had been making a living from independent web sites or blogs were prime examples.

After two years, the entire online society of Japan was swallowed up by the Mizi monster, leaving most everything else a wasteland.

Akira’s instant messenger blinked to signal a notification. He opened it, without much emotion. As expected, it was from XX.

“See? Told you this would happen.”

“...Whatever,” Akira answered, but even his typed response seemed weak.

“What are you gonna do? Want to put your game on Mizi?”

“As if! What the hell am I supposed to do on that cuddle-fest of a platform!?”

In fact, even if Akira had ported his game, no one would have given it a second look. The SNS was a place to get along with other people. Not compete with them, let alone kill them.

“But your world’s dying out, Akira.”

“Not going to happen.”

The next day, Akira introduced a new structure. He allowed the players to form a team of up to five members and fight together. Now, there would be a surviving team of the week, rather than a single player. This was a smart move. Something that went with the times and the trends. While he gained a moderate amount of newcomers, he naturally received some harsh backlash, too. For the OG players, it only looked like he had gotten soft. The forums were in turmoil through the announcement and the implementation.

“Co-op? Who the f asked for this?”

“Who is this for?”

“Co-op sounds kind of fun, actually.”

“There’s new stuff you can do.”

“Go back to Mizi, you POS.”

“Ono’s gone soft...”

“It’s been good, but bye.”

With support and backlash clashing everywhere, the entire game was filled with tension. Eventually, the more casual players dropped out, having had enough of the continuous bickering. They were there to have fun playing a game, not fight. With Mizi’s creation, and now the civil conflict in his game, he was losing players faster than ever. Akira’s world was crumbling like a breached dam.

—New Year’s Day, 2006.

The chatroom that had always been filled with players ready to celebrate the New Year was now empty. Every demographic was logged into Mizi, where they celebrated the occasion with their friends. Akira had logged onto the chatroom to mitigate the vacant loneliness of it, but he only felt hollower by doing so.

“How fast you can fall...”

Not that anyone had heard him mutter that, but a change occurred in the chatroom.

—Sho joined the chat

Akira smiled a little upon seeing this. He was one of the players who had always caused a big commotion in the arena, calling himself the Sailor Skirt Warrior. Now, he had created a team of players with similar preferences, claiming that sailor girl uniforms would save the planet and take down the Empire. In his own way, he had tried to reignite the game.

“So, when’s the next event?”

Akira didn’t expect this question from him. Akira smirked.

“Event? There’s no one to play the game.”

“Just get some more people in, then.”

How!? Akira wanted to shout into the screen, but held back. How was he supposed to gather more players in this wasteland?

“There’s not even a hundred players left. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Do it for those hundred people, then.”

“A hundred... Where there were thousands...”

This was more of a painful revelation for Akira than anything. Now that there were so few players, the game balance was completely out of whack. But Sho was suggesting this in earnest.

“If need be, I’ll talk to some people.”

“It’s okay.”

“...What’s okay?” Sho asked, but at the same time, didn’t seem like he wanted to hear the answer.

After hesitating for a moment, Akira continued:

“I think I’ll shut it down...”

Sho replied with a flood of text.

“Hey, Ono... Remember New Year’s Day back then? Remember how cocky you were!? Where’s your ever-evolving world now!?”

“I’m just one guy... How am I supposed to take on that phenomenon?”

In fact, any and all personal websites and games were disappearing from the World Wide Web. With time, the model of people concentrating to the epicenter of trends would never change. In several years, various more networks would be established, along with video-posting sites and tools where people comment with 140 characters or less... Through the various changes and evolutions of online society, the only thing that remained true was the concentrated population graph of it. Just as people gathered at metropolises, people attracted more people.

“Come off it... Where’s your signature cocky attitude!?”

“Heh. I’d love to be cocky right now...”

“If you give up, it’s really all over...! Why don’t you...?”

“Thanks for loving this game like you did. For loving my world.”

“...I don’t want to read that kind of bull! I’m done with you!”

Sho stormed out of the chatroom, and Akira left without another word. Then, he logged in as the Demon Lord of the Empire and entered a room where one of his advisors sat. A girl named Ren Miyaoji. The prima donna of the game, who was more popular than any other character.

“Thanks for your hard work, Ren.”

Akira spoke to her, but of course, she didn’t respond, Ren was only a lifeless video game character. As if to reminisce, Akira muttered:

“A lot has happened these past few years. All those players attacking the Sleepless Castle, going to your place, having this weird raid party. You getting bombarded with love-letter messages...”

There were battles over the Sleepless Castle here and there, but most of them were treated as a party or an event, rather than a full-blown siege. Some attacked the Castle with all intentions of taking it down, but were usually demolished within an hour. After that, battles over the Sleepless Castle were excuses for big parties. Players ran to their favorite advisors, some massacred the raiding players from behind, and some used their fireworks to show off.

“It was the best... Like a roaring flame. It was fun.”

Akira’s whisper wasn’t meant for anybody in particular, but rather he was telling the world itself how he felt.

“You must be tired, huh? Take a break. I think I’ll... do the same.”

Ren’s expression was unchanged; she just sat there quietly. Seeing her like this, a tear fell down Akira’s cheek for his frustration against himself.

“But Ren. I will come back. To you. So... Wait for me.”

With that, Akira left his familiar arena.

And so, Akira Ono’s world came to an end. It would take him a few more years to get back up and reconstruct another world. The trends of the online world changed day-to-day, ever-shifting. Even Mizi, the unstoppable juggernaut, would not escape the shifts of time. As everyone was tossed to the roiling current of time, Akira, too, was like a single leaf floating on its surface.

Years later, when that leaf soared again... it landed on the ground, rooted, sprouted, and eventually triggered a world-wide phenomenon. Something Akira had no idea about just yet.