The silence about the hotel car park gave way to the gorgeous purr of a race tuned, Italian four stroke. It’s rider vaulted off as soon as the engine died. Daniel Matthews, as usual, was late. His ear had been alerting him to phone calls for the entire journey, but his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t even deactivate the alert, but directed the tune to a file of his favourite mp3’s. He’d been listening to music for over 30 minutes.

The hotel, a stylish new venue in ever trendy Camden was host to a somewhat atypical clientele for the evening. All normal hotel routine had been usurped by the requirements of a professional gaming event replete with star players, paparazzi and fans. Thanks to its modern, glass construction Daniel was able to see the throng of eager fans and circling photographers in the lobby before he entered it. He kept his helmet on and headed straight for the main lift.

“Pass?" Interrupted a security guard, whose bald head and ferocious looking face popped into view just as Daniel reached for the call button. He raised the visor and looked at the guard with a look of mock indignation.
“Danny! Good to see you man!” the Doomed security officer smiled broadly and then glanced over Daniel’s shoulder.
“Hiya Clive, you really should be down there with the rest of us man.”
Clive, in his forties, had barely even touched a computer and certainly never played a computer game in his life. The older mans laughter was genuine but short lived as he noted the lobby crowd had caught on to the identity of the motorcyclist. With a nod and a wink he relayed the information to Daniel and tapped the call button to open the lift door. Daniel stepped smartly into the steel cage as Clive moved forward, both hands held up in a silent “Halt!” to the approaching mass.
“You seen Spidey, yet Clive?”
“He’s down there Danny. And by all accounts, he’s kicking some European ass. Good luck to you. Now get a move on!” The guard smiled broadly and the lift doors closed.

“Phone off.” He instructed the implant to deactivate. He pressed the button to the basement and took his helmet off. The lift hummed into action and stopped moments later. The doors slid open and Daniel walked into the tournament arena. The basement was large and dark. Gamers required darkness to perform optimally, it was a condition of the sport which provided many critics with reams of salacious metaphor. The only sources of light from within the room came from dozens of monitors and light cubes. Plasma tubes inside the casing of personalised computers spilled over young faces. At the end of the room farthest from the lift was the press corner, Daniel could make out a raised platform, currently occupied by a swarm of yellow t-shirts, the uniform of this events organiser staff. The press corner was the master computer of the tournament. It gathered, stored, categorised and filed all gaming data and then forwarded it to the distribution channels. In this case a dual network for the internet and television syndicates. The tournament was due to start very soon but only one of the competitors was practising. ‘No prizes for guessing who that is’ Daniel said to himself.

Spidey was the number two in America and he had played Daniel at several tournaments. It was usually at the CPL that Daniel got to meet his friend, as the world championships were determined at the CPL. But two days ago, Daniel had received a call from Spidey. He was coming to the UK for a week, and would compete at the Doomed tournament for “fun”. Daniel was glad, he had got on with Spidey from the outset; Daniel had mistaken him for Z-Type (the American number one gamer). Spidey had laughed and promptly told Daniel that he was actually a reporter for the NY Times. He’d spent 30 minutes being ‘interviewed’ by Spidey about subjects ranging from his favourite drink (Vodka and Red Bull) to the longest he’d ever been without sex (8 months). Daniel started to feel suspicious after the sex question. But it was the question about which porn really turned him on that made Daniel decide to terminate the interview. Spidey immediately confessed and they both fell about laughing. Two years later they were firm friends and practise partners.

As Daniels gaze continued its scan around the dark basement it fell upon a familiar group of players, the UK clan ‘Unreal’. They were talking quietly amongst themselves and gave off an air of professional confidence. The tournament was to be divided into duel and Team Deathmatch (TDM). Duel was where the big money was at, but the actual purse for TDM was larger, it just had to be shared between 5 people (four players and a coach). Unreal had a chance at the title, but TDM was dependent upon so many minute factors that picking a winner was pretty hopeless. Next to the Unreal boys, but several empty rows of seats along sat the German clan ‘Unmatched’. This clan had recently reformed after 3 years out of the gaming scene. The players had changed, but the name still carried a lot of weight. Daniel recognised two good duellists sat within the group. They would be competing in both events, and Daniel respected their ability to focus on two very different styles of play.

In fact, as he surveyed the groups of players, it became obvious that most of the Duel elite had joined top TDM clans, for a chance at more money (he assumed). Although Daniel followed the Doom scene quite closely, it was only at tournaments like this that demographics actually came to life. He had considered joining a clan more than once, most recently it had been Unreal but he had always been held back by his training schedule. Incorporating TDM would require adjustment, Daniel estimated at least one month to truly master all of its nuances. He had decided to put that time into duel. Now he felt jaded, and wondered if he’d made the right decision.

“Dan, I’ve been phoning you for hours!” Daniel turned to the familiar voice, his face going cold as his eyes met those of his manager..
“Don’t give me any shit Jim.” Daniel ordered him.
“Who said anything about giving you shit. I was going to wish you luck.” Jim replied courteously.
“Thanks.” Daniel relaxed a little and smiled weakly.
“You’re going to need it. If you don’t do well here, the sponsors are going to be all over us.” Jim warned darkly.
“The sponsors are that fickle?” Daniel inquired curiously.
“Well, they weren’t, but after you got publicly shafted by your own bot they’ve taken a different stance. AMD called me yesterday. They were quite hostile about the whole BBC shambles.”
“For gods sake. It was a muckabout, don’t they understand that?” Daniel sounded hostile, but he actually felt slightly concerned about his lack of feeling on the issue.
“Just drop it Dan, you’ve got a tournament to win. And with him here,” Jim nodded at Spidey ducking and weaving inside a game pod, “you are going to be up against it big-time.”
“What are the press doing upstairs? Why isn’t everyone down here ready for the matches?”
“The organisers are pissing around. Something to do with security around the match computers.” Jim informed him. Daniel wasn’t surprised, with prize money getting larger, the purity of match computers was becoming a point of obsession for the admins. Cheating had occurred even at the CPL before now, and it brought the emerging sport into disrepute.

“See you later Jim, I’m going to warm up.”
“Later Dan. Clear your mind. Make every game count.” Jim grinned at him, and for a moment Daniel saw the face of his old friend. For a second it felt like they were just two young kids, full of confidence and enthusiasm about the game. Jim had been the only friend from school who survived the test of time. He had suggested that he manage Daniel after the first CPL event when Daniel came 3rd place. Daniel had had reservations, and ever since had regretted the change in their relationship.
“Where’s Gwyn?” he asked as Jim turned towards the spectator seats.
“Didn’t you hear? She’s got an interview.”
“Oh yes, of course.” He hadn’t heard about the interview at all. He wondered why she hadn’t said anything to him.
“She’ll try and make it here for the evening sessions.” Said Jim as he walked off to the spectators enclave.

Daniel thought about phoning her, but didn’t want to interrupt a job interview if her phone was still on. He tried to think who she had applied to, but remembered no names. He activated his phone and searched the memory for conversations with Gwyn that included the word “interview”, but nothing came up. He shrugged it off and made his way over to the practice pods. Spidey was still duelling, and Daniel decided to watch his moves. Like Daniel and a few other gamers, Spidey chose the pods because he was fit enough to use them effectively. A lot of gamers found that their game suffered badly in a pod, because of the demands it placed on the body. Spidey looked in good shape, and it seemed to Daniel (who was adept at guaging pod-use) that the gamer was playing a very controlled duel. Typical, he thought dourly.

The basement room was starting to fill up with reporters and supporters. The seating, which catered for two hundred fans was starting to look busy when an announcement came from the press podium.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to Doomed 2005!” there was a ripple of applause before the speaker continued.
“In a few minutes the duel tournament will commence. I would like thank all you players for coming, and the pro-gamers too” there was laughter from the crowd of amateur gamers, “I am proud to welcome CPL-TV to the event. They will be covering the tournament today and are broadcasting the show live to twenty two countries! Let me introduce CPL-TV’s very own Natalie Freedom, your host for the day!”
As Daniel glanced at the podium it occurred to him how glamorous it all looked. The podium was decked out in quasi-techno paraphernalia, and the hostess herself was indeed very beautiful.
“Thank you Roy.” Smiled ‘NF-hottie’ as she was known to most informed gamers. She started to talk about gaming in general, artfully building a sense of importance into the occasion. Daniel felt the discomfort of a large number of butterflies trapped in his belly. His mind did not feel prepared.

“Rappy!” His train of thought was derailed by an american accent.
“Spidey! How are you dude?” Daniel shook his friend’s hand warmly. His eyes narrowed as he asked the american a sly question.
“So you plan to take the Doomed trophy back to the states?”
“Unless you have other ideas, that’s exactly what I’m planning on doing!” laughed Spidey. He was about the same height as Daniel but had short blond hair. His face was more tanned too. But that was probably inevitable when you lived in Los Angeles.
“Who are you playing first?” Daniel asked.
“I got some nobody from Sweden. Goes by the name of Goliath.” Spidey was well aware of Goliath, and knew full well that his duelling was improving on a weekly basis. He was currently ranked 30 in the world, but it was quite likely that Goliath had improved a lot since the last CPL.
“Any idea who I’m playing?”
“Yeah Rappy, you got Simian. If you can’t beat him, then you might as well take up chess.” Spidey smiled at Daniel, but there was a look of concern in his eyes.
“You ok? I saw the show on the BBC. Tough break man.” Daniel rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“What can I do. Accuse the bot of using a bot?” They laughed and let the subject go.
“I’d better go and register.” Said Daniel. “Good luck man, I’ll see you after the duel.”
“See you in the final Rappy.” Spidey wasn’t even joking and Daniel felt quite envious of the Americans confidence. He located a vantage point in a particularly dark section of the room and watched the action on a big screen.

Spidey was on fire. His duelling was ferocious and he controlled the map with speed and aim, carving through any of Goliath’s attempts at guile and stealth. Daniel was impressed by the American’s dexterity around the map more than anything. Rail^Raptor was widely regarded as the fastest duellist in the world, but it seemed that Spidey had been working on his strafe jumps. The match ended 14-2 in Spideys favour and the basement came alive with shouts of disappointment and loud applause from various camps. Daniel’s interest in the victory was interrupted by a tapping on his shoulder. It was admin.

“You’re up now Rail^Raptor” Daniel nodded and followed the admin into the competition area.

He had a choice of ten pods, or thirty cube machines. He chose a pod furthest from the crowd and handed over his config disk to the admin. The config disk contained his in-game preferences. The disk told the game that Daniel was using a game pod, and which buttons on the gun did what. All gamers had very specific button selections for their methods of control. The pod could be programmed with sensitivity commands, like the light cubes or mouse and the config disk included preferences like which exact posture denoted a crouch inside the game. The crouch manoeuvre was standardised for tournaments. Either the player was crouching or standing. Normally, Doom4 would allow increments between these two positions, but that gave pod users an unfair advantage (if the gamer was limber enough) and was therefore removed in pro-games.

Daniel vaulted into his chosen pod eliciting a healthy cheer from the crowd. A fluidity came into his movement as he slipped on the visor and unholstered the gun. His opponent, a ‘lightcuber’ was already in position, sat in front of his monitor 20ft away. Daniel looked into the visor and saw another world. He was suspended over a Lava Planet, thousands of feet in the air. Far below, he could just make out a tiny grey square amid a sea of fire. The contest arena.

“Config’s ok” spoke his admin. He nodded his head and invisible cords were cut. He started to free fall towards the surface. Wind rushed through his ears as the map started to approach him rapidly. Seconds later, just before it would seem he was going to headbutt the ground at high speed, he flicked his head up, and his descent decelerated. He touched the wide grey arena with the lightest of contacts. Looking around, he could see the familiar layout of Burnt Hopes, a popular map for speed-duellists.

Simian was already running around the pillar-strewn map and as Daniel took his first step the German nailed him with a classic headshot, right between the eyes. Daniels body disintegrated and he respawned elsewhere on the map. Simian used the warm-up to practice his sniping on Daniel, which was common practice. They were soon trading shots of almost equal accuracy.

“Are you two gentlemen ready to fight?” asked the head admin. Both gamers replied affirmatively.
Natalie Freedom drifted over the intercom.
“And now we have Germany’s top duellist “Simian” playing UK’s very best, ‘Rail^Raptor’. Lets have a clean fight fella’s!”
The game started counting down. Daniel felt his muscles relax, and his senses attune themselves completely to the game. He could hear the blood pounding in his head.

Spidey stood lounging over the press podium. He was keen to watch the duel, but also keen to catch Natalie Freedom’s eye. After a few minutes of failing at the latter, he trained his gaze on the Rail^Raptors point of view (POV). It would seem that his friend was still jittery. Spidey picked up on several small errors that he’d never seen Rappy make before. Nevertheless, the scoreline was 8-5 to Raptor after the ten minutes of battle. He forgot about his friend and flashed a pearly grin at Natalie as she leant over her work station.

Author, Mr.e ed, acEcool July 2002