Tag Archive for: video game horror

Total Immersion

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by Kristin Lennox

Doug’s head snapped forward as he woke with a snort; the greasy pizza box in his lap fell to the floor. He squinted at the sun streaming through the tiny basement windows: mid-afternoon? But what day?

Doug cracked his neck and set his controller on the desk…or tried.

The gamepad was stuck to his palm, fingers welded to the buttons. Confusion yielded to agony as the headset bore into his skull; the chair rippled beneath him, tendrils of fabric weaving into flesh.

As forearms and chair arms melded, a progress bar appeared in Doug’s peripheral vision:

“Integration: 78% complete”

Kristin Lennox

 

Reality Bites

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by Bridget Holland

Gabby smacked her torch against the hydra’s severed neck. Flesh sizzled. The air stank.

“Last head!” Luke called through the murk.  “Keep up!”

As she lunged forward, a coil clamped onto her shoulder. She fell, swamp water closing over her head. Her health points flashed red.

Blackness.

***

Her mother, shaking her shoulder—that explained the coil.

“Dinner, Gabby! I called you twice already.” Mum wrinkled her nose. “Something smells.”

“That’s the swamp. This new VR suit is dope. Full sensory.”

Mum snorted. “Dinner. Now!”

Gabby peeled the suit off. The stench intensified.

Leeches—blood-filled, satiated—dropped from her arm.

Bridget Holland

Bridget’s a reader, dreamer and writer living in Australia and in her imagination.

Officer, It Was Just a Game

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by Crystal N. Ramos

I didn’t do it. She was my daughter, officer. I was playing some kind of new VR game. Really immersive.

See, you run around stealing cars and stuff and try to evade the law. The game has this mechanic where you can pick up a prostitute, gain health, and then kill her to get your money back.

I was just playing a game… No, I don’t know the brand or where the headset is. You ripped it off my head when you tackled me, didn’t you? This blood? You must have smashed my nose or something… What do you mean it’s hers?

Crystal N. Ramos

Crystal N. Ramos lives with her husband and two children in Georgia, USA. She has won the Maggie Award for Excellence in Prepublished Romantic Fiction twice and has an MA in Professional Writing from Kennesaw State University. Some of her shorter work has appeared in Rescued Hearts: A Hidden Acres Anthology, Stygian Lepus Issue 5, and The Dr T. J. Eckleburg Review. In her imaginary spare time, she likes to knit, cross-stitch, and play Minecraft. You can find her on Facebook.

Facebook: @crystalnramos

Derek Levels Up

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by Grace Quon

Derek grabbed the shotgun from the table. Six shells. Guttural snarls erupted in the hallway. He burst the first zombie’s head open like a rotten melon, but the next one was already charging. Bring it on, assholes. A minute later, six festering corpses littered the floor.

TUTORIAL COMPLETED

What? ExtremeReality had hyped Zombie-geddon as a mind-blowing, life-changing event. Only five copies available—twenty million each. If the first mission didn’t deliver, they’d hear from Dad’s fucking lawyers tonight.

First, he’d sneak a beer, though. But on the kitchen table, there was a shotgun. Six shells. Snarls erupted in the hallway…

Grace Quon

Grace Quon grew up loving books and libraries. After a detour through a math degree and a career in high-tech, she’s once again exploring the world of story writing. You can find her online at:

Website: gracequon.weebly.com

The NPCs Are Watching

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by Nina Miller

You saw me selling wares from a cart. Watched my bosom jiggle as I cried over my pies. Asked me what was wrong, and I told you of my sister kidnapped by necromancers. I needed a knight errant and offered what I had. You obliged.

You entered the cave and negotiated with the evildoers. The game glitched as you took their gold instead of my sister. You saw me in the shadows just before your screen went blank.

Pop-ups cascaded with warning, warning, warning, as I downloaded hidden photos, took your money, released medical records, and made private chats public.

Nina Miller

Nina Miller is an Indian-American physician, epee fencer, and creative who made the Wigleaf Top 50 for 2024. She loves writing competitions and drinking chai. Find her flash and thoughts on writing within Flash Fusion, an anthology by Dahlia Books. Find her @NinaMD1 and her published pieces at:

Website: ninamillerwrites.com

Life is Rubbish

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by Fiona M. Jones

“Damien.” It was the Enemy. “What—”

Damien dodged away, throwing chairs to slow the Enemy’s advance. He needed to level up, exchange the bread knife in his jacket for a machete. He headed for the Great Hall, ducked into the equipment cupboard, but the Enemy had seen him—had him cornered now.

“Damien. Will you please—”

Damien raised his weapon and struck, a long slicing blow that felled the Enemy. Cheers of admiration went up—or were those screams of fear? Damien suddenly felt tired. Discouraged. Life is rubbish. The blood spatter is much better in the game.

Fiona M. Jones

Fiona M. Jones writes very short things—dark-themed fiction, nature-themed nonfiction, and sometimes poetry. Her published work may be sampled from her website:

Website: fionamjones.wordpress.com

ADikT

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by Liam Hogan

“There’s a new video game, ADikT, available on the darknet. We think it’s killing users.”

Anders half-rolled his eyes before catching the chief’s stony gaze. “What’s this one do? Drag players into the game world? Inflict the virtual damage they get there on their real bodies?”

“We’re not sure. Hence: a case for you.”

Anders plugged in. The menu was limited, but the game wasn’t; a MMRG, with emphasis on massive.

Five hours in, he still hadn’t found the danger.

Twelve hours.

Thirty-six hours…

Ninety-six hours and no sleep, food, drink, or toilet breaks later, ADikT claimed its next victim.

Liam Hogan

Liam Hogan is an award-winning short story writer, who dabbles in drabbles.

Website: happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk

Unplugged

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by Greg Schwartz

“Josh!” His mom stomped into his room. “I’ve been calling you.”

“Sorry, Mom. Trying to kill this monster.” Josh feverishly manoeuvred the controller, his face contorted in concentration.

“You’ve been playing all day,” she said. “Time to turn it off.”

“Two minutes,” Josh pleaded, eyes never leaving the screen.

She yanked the power cord. The screen went black.

“Mom!” Josh’s face paled. “You don’t understand—”

“Next time, listen when I…” Her voice trailed off. “What was that?”

Far away, there was a thud. Then another, closer.

Thud. THUD. The floor shook.

THUD. THUD. The windows rattled.

Josh whispered, “Run.”

Greg Schwartz

Greg Schwartz writes speculative fiction and poetry. He lives with his wife, children, and dog. No spiders.

Sucked In

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by Tracy Davidson

He starts his missing son’s latest game. Something to distract him from constant worry, to see what his son played that day.

Graphics have changed since his childhood. His avatar walks through a post-apocalyptic landscape. Bodies burning, animals scavenging.

Far ahead, a faint figure jumps up and down, screaming at him to run.

Something drives him forward. The figure sharpens. His son’s avatar, disconcertingly realistic, even wearing his brand-new trainers.

“Dad, you should have gone back,” it says, tears on claw-marked cheeks.

But there’s no going back in this game…

At home, a worried mother reports her husband missing too.

Tracy Davidson

Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including: Poet’s Market, Mslexia, Black Hare Press, Modern Haiku, Femku Mag, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR, and In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.

Nobody Puts Baby in the Deleted Items Folder

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by C. A. Fulwell

LifeLike: Kelly’s favourite game since age fourteen. So much joy in the virtual family. No pain. No “stupid fucking mistakes.” Just love.

After a mistake at twenty-two, she had Emily. Alone. No matter.

A little Emily joined LifeLike. Kelly didn’t remember making her, but loved them both.

Months passed. No money. No sleep. No help. Time to pull the plug on the LifeLike subscription.

Little Emily appeared next to the delete button. She stared at Kelly.

At Kelly.

“No, Mama.”

Sleep deprivation. Kelly readied the mouse.

“Mama?”

Emily!

Pain peeled across her ankles. Emily raised the knife again.

“No, Mama.”

C. A. Fulwell

C. A. Fulwell is an author from Oxfordshire, England, where he lives with his wife and two young children. His work can be found at 101 Words, Black Hare Press and in the inaugural Black Spring Press CrimeBits. When not writing, he can be found avoiding most temptations, or thinking about writing.

Instagram: @caf.writer