Ema
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Chapter 09 - Pandora's Box
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 11:58:11 +0000 UTCAlone with my thoughts, I stared up listlessly at the rotating ceiling fan and the bland, egg-white coloured ceiling that sustained it. Next to me, my VR HeadGear nestled on an oversized pillow. If one studied the sleek device, one would notice that a light was blinking, indicating that it was charging remotely.
“There’s no way, right?” I muttered, my thoughts returning to what I had just experienced.
Virtual reality games have been around for decades, but VR gaming industry never really took off until the release of a new VR technology—The Mind Dive.
Five years ago, when the new ground-breaking Mind Dive technology first launched, it was met with a lot of criticism and controversy coming from both consumers and politicians.
Most of the concern revolved around user privacy and mental well-being. At the time, tech manufacturers and self-proclaimed tech experts repeatedly reassured the public that, despite its advanced features, even with the most cutting-edge Mind Dive-enabled VR devices were simply incapable of reading a user’s thoughts.
That simply wasn't how the technology worked—or so they'd claimed.
And while I wasn't an expert myself, I remember discussing the issue with a few more tech-savvy coworkers at the time. Back then, I believed them.
The reason was simple. At the end of the day, a device capable of actively deciphering and interpreting someone’s mind was too improbable and incredulous. It was science fiction.
Or maybe... maybe after witnessing the sheer brilliance of Mind Dive firsthand, i just didn't want to believe it could cross that final boundary.
Either way, now more than ever, I needed to know the truth.
Sliding off the bed, I hopped on my computer, fingers already moving before teh screen fully loaded.
But the deeper I searched, the more my brow furrowed. Nothing. Not a single relevant thread or result.
Across every forum, review, video comment, and website I checked, not a single Cultivation Online player had expressed even the slightest concern about the game reading their mind.
There were plenty of negative reviews and complaints, but nothing about what I was looking for.
“Am I just being paranoid?” I wondered. But the less I found on the internet, the more uneasy I became.
According to the Cultivation Online's official website, the game already boasted over ten million active players—despite only launching three days ago.
With numbers like that... what were the odds that I was the only one who noticed this issue?
Still, judging by all the buzz online, the game was only going to grow bigger. In fact, the only reason it took three days for it to explode in popularity was due to the lack of marketing prior to its sudden release.
That, and the fact that its genre catered to a relatively niche audience—at least in Western circles.
That said, with how insanely immersive it was, the game could've centred around Teletubbies and still shattered every record in the industry. Just from what I'd seen so far, it was clear to even me—Cultivation Online wasn't just a game. It was a phenomenon waiting to happen.
“Unless people learn about its mind-reading capabilities…” I muttered. Forget the bloodthirsty NPCs butchering players in broad daylight—if people realised their private thoughts were being invaded, the outrage would be god damn biblical.
To say they would be unhappy would be an understatement.
But then came the real question: should I say anything?
And if I did, would anyone actually believe me?
Perhaps most importantly—did I even want to say anything?
Like it or not, the simple truth was that I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so alive. These past three days in-game had stirred something in me that I thought long dead. Ever since my family was torn apart, I'd been drifting through life aimlessly—existing, perhaps, but definitely not living.
Was I really prepared to give that up now, all for the sake of preserving a principle I'd never truly fought for before?
Truthfully, the fact that I didn’t know the answer to that question scared me a hell of a lot more than the potential mind-reading capabilities of the device itself.
And what did that say about me as a person?
…
For the first time in what felt like ages—probably since starting my extended leave from work—I decided to go out for a meal.
As I made my way toward one of my favourite pizza parlours, I caught a whiff of the city air and frowned.
“Smells like gasoline and depression.” I sighed. After the clean, crisp air of Cultivation Online, the contrast was discouragingly noticeable.
Hell, this was borderline toxic in comparison.
As usual, I dealt with the privacy issue the way I handled most uncomfortable dilemmas: by shelving the decision for later. The truth was, I had no idea what the right move was. What I did know was that I hated the thought of my kids playing a game that could intrude on their thoughts.
If thoughts could be deciphered, who knew what other dangers the game might conceal?
Could memories be tampered with? Personalities rewritten?
By playing this game, were we unknowingly signing away our very souls?
In a sense, discovering the mind reading capabilities of the game was like opening Pandora's box. Once opened, it couldn’t be closed again.
Thus, unsure of what to do, I chose to postpone the decision. Before her passing, my late mother always used to say, "Never make big decisions on an empty stomach." I'd lived by those words religiously for as long as I could remember—and I wasn't about to stop now.
Besides, as my kids can attest, I'm not the least bit ashamed of quoting her whenever it suits me.
The doorbell rang as I stepped into the pizza parlour called Mama Barbara’s, where foreign music was being played in old, laggy speakers.
Fortunately, I wasn't here for the music.
As I approached the register, a movement in the corner of my eye snatched my attention. On the wall, a small television was surprisingly showing gameplay from Cultivation Online.
“Ouch, that looked painful.” I winced as I watched a player get impaled by a horned, dinosaur-like creature that followed up with an earth-shattering roar.
The caravan guards had warned us that there were monsters, but this was my first time seeing one myself.
“Note to self: Don't stray too far off the road.” I mused. Even with my sword, I doubted I could inflict much damage on a monster like that.
“The newest VRMMO takes the world by storm: Cultivation Online! The dark horse of the century or a flop waiting to happen?” The subtitles read before a panel interview followed.
“Ready to order?” The man behind the register asked impatiently, reminding me of where I was. Next to him, the pizza baker looked at me with his hairy arms crossed, also waiting for my order.
Flushed with embarrassed and craving something familiar, I settled on one of my all-time favourites: a California-style barbecue chicken pizza.
Sliding my card, I declined the receipt before grabbing some utensils on my way to a nearby table.
My attention, however, was utterly fixated on the tiny television.
“... perfect virtual reality rate! An accomplishment so incredulous that it has left scientists and experts absolutely gobsmacked!”
“That is certainly one of Cultivation Online’s biggest pros.” A man nodded in agreement. “Until now, it has been presumed that a perfect virtual rendition of the real world, one capable of masterfully copying all of the five human senses, wouldn't be feasible until at least another century of development. For an unknown and unheard of game development company to suddenly appear and prove everyone otherwise is simply too unbelievable.”
“You’re talking about Heaven," the anchorwoman asked, tilted her head cutely. “Right?”
“Yes,” the man smirked. “A… lofty name for a game development company, that's for sure, especially one with no other titles to boast of.”
“Yet, with VR architects capable of engineering a world like Cultivation Online, they seem to possess the skill necessary to back up their pomposity, don't they?”
“In my opinion, that remains to be seen.” The man shook his head. “The game is still in its introduction phase, after all.”
“Unfortunately…” The anchorwoman shook her head. “Heaven has declined our invitation for an interview, seemingly determined to maintain their appearance of obscurity.”
“But!” The anchorwoman’s disappointment quickly transformed into happiness. “With us in the studio we have another very special guest. Join us in welcoming the renowned VRMMO streamer, the Vanquisher of Ar’gometh, and the Guildmaster of the Tainted, Cyberwolf!”
“Excuse me?” I asked, turning toward one of the workers. “Do you think you can raise the volume a bit?”
Since there were no other diners present at the moment, the owner shrugged before acquiescing to my request.
“... for having me.” The young man—Cyberwolf—smiled as he sat down on the empty seat in the panel. Behind him, the name of the programme “Virtual Reality Today” was highlighted in futuristic-looking hologram font.
“First, before we start talking about your experiences and thoughts on the latest VRMMO, Cultivation Online, I have to say—your guild’s recent crusade against the High Demon Ar’gometh in Asura’s Descent was hands down one of the most thrilling VR confrontation I’ve ever gotten the pleasure of experiencing. And let me tell you, that moment when your sword pierced Ar’gometh’s heart… it’s no wonder you were dubbed the Vanquisher of Ar’gometh afterward!”
Cyberwolf smiled a confident smile, clearly used to receiving praise.
“Thank you, but I have to clarify something. While I might’ve been the one to deal the final blow to the boss, it was a team effort that wouldn’t have been possible without the hard-earned efforts of my fellow guildmates.”
“Of course," the anchorwoman added with a pleased look on her face. “But enough about Asura, let us talk a bit about Cultivation Online. You’ve played the game, I’m sure?”
“Yes," Cyberwolf replied, his smile turning serious. “But I don’t know if I would call it a game.”
“Oh?” The anchorwoman lifted an eyebrow—even the anchorman next to her looked confused.
“As far as I can tell, Cultivation Online far exceeds the limited confines of a game.” Cyberwolf elaborated. “Not only are the NPCs nearly indistinguishable from actual human beings, but more than once—while playing this so-called game—I forgot that I was in a virtual world.”
I unconsciously nodded in agreement.
“So even the fabled Cyberwolf is impressed by the game's graphics?”
“That would be an understatement.” Cyberwolf quickly responded. “The level of detail that Heaven has been able to reproduce is inconceivable. What we are talking about isn’t a virtual reality game, but a fully-functional, highly-tuned virtual world, basically indistinguishable from the real one.”
The two hosts looked at each other in evident surprise.
“So, I take it you like this gam—I mean this world, Cultivation Online?”
Again, Cyberwolf smiled confidently. “Indeed, in fact, I’ve already informed my guild that I’m switching over to Cultivation Online full-time.”
Now, this statement induced shock in the studio.
“Cyberwolf is switching games?” The anchorwoman’s eyes resembled a pair of saucers. “After meticulously constructing a persona and lore for five years in Asura’s Descent, the Cyberwolf is switching games?”
Nodding seriously, Cyberwolf explained his decision.
“Yes, and of course, I don't make this decision lightly. After all, it’s my career we’re talking about here.” Cyberwolf shook his head mirthlessly. “Nevertheless, I really believe that Cultivation Online is destined to surpass Asura’s Descent in the near future and claim the spot as the world’s most popular VR game. And so far, I believe the numbers agree with me.”
“They sure do,” the male anchor agreed. “Ten million active players in less than three days? An outright ludicrous number.”
“So…” The anchorwoman leaned forward in wide-eyed curiosity, unintentionally revealing her well-endowed cleavage to the audience. “What advice do you have for our audience who have yet to start playing Cultivation Online? Apart from recklessly attacking elite monsters in the forests, that is?”
Smiling, Cyberwolf turned to look at the camera.
“Firstly, I’ll offer you the same advice I gave my guildmates, do not treat the NPCs carelessly. Although just a theory for now, it is well established that NPCs in Cultivation Online treat players differently based on their approach and behaviour. There appear to be an invisible amity system in place. Perhaps even a reputation system."
“Oh, that’s a good one!” The male anchor interjected before Cyberwolf continued.
“Secondly, if you’re unfamiliar with Eastern cultivation as a whole, I strongly suggest you read up on the Chinese xianxia genre and daoism philosophy. Even if you ultimately decide not to become a cultivator, I’ve found that the world’s culture is intricately connected to the genre.”
“Thirdly, for all my xianxia friends out there, though possible, don’t waste your time trying to create a unique cultivation method. Plenty of my guildmates have wasted hours trying to create one. And in my opinion, your time is much better spent exploring and developing your proficiencies—which, as far as I can tell, is the name for passive skills in CO.”
Before the anchorwoman could cut in, the young man continued.
“Finally, if you see a cultivator…” Cyberwolf smirked at the camera. “Lower your head or hide—because unlike in normal ‘games,' players are not the protagonists of this world: cultivators are. My advice? Join a sect and start cultivating as if your life depends on it. In Cultivation Online, the only rule that matters is that the strong do what they want, and the weak suffer what they must.”
As I continued watching the interview unfold, I listened to Cyberwolf animatedly explain how he was in the process of joining a sect whose name he didn’t want to reveal at the moment. He talked about the friends he’d made, both players and NPCs, and he described the thrill of advancing his proficiencies to the next level. And while I didn’t understand his obsessive fascination with spears, I did recognise the look of excitement on his face.
How couldn’t I, when it was the same expression I’d started seeing in the mirror lately?
Suddenly, savouring my pizza, I recalled the time limit I was under. The duration until the provisional outer disciple trial finished.
“What am I doing?”
...
