The Lab (1)

“Fuck… Chaos Point, those goddamn bastards are ruthless!! Achievements reset to the very beginning, and collectibles have achievement-reset exclusive items??”

I hissed, my mouth parched and my mind a fog, so I cracked open a can of cola with a rough yank. The fizzy drink sliding cool down my throat helped a bit… but once my head cleared and I roughly calculated the rounds ahead and the time they'd take, my mouse-gripping hand started trembling.

“You fucking… absolute mad bastards! What the hell are you hiding so goddamn tight…!!”

There was this game called Neo Haven. A cosmic masterpiece from Chaos Point—and simultaneously the most ass-backwards flop in gaming history. You might ask how it could be both a god-game and a trash-fire, but even the ratings from owners and critics split exactly 50/50. The community aggregate score proudly sat at 'Mixed.'

…Maybe because the game had been out for a while, the early negative reviews were from hardcore RPG noobs burned by the spice. But now? The more life you'd sunk in, the more you'd rage.

But? After scouring reviews, discussion boards, and the Neo Haven community? I was fucking relieved. I'd hit the devil's wall—99.99% overall completion—and I was the only one who'd descended again for the final journey.

Click…!Tap tap tap….

I manipulated the mouse and keyboard to activate the cyberware built into my character. This insane game didn't even provide a basic user interface. Want pop-ups for info? Install the right cyberware. Need cyberware? Slam in matching implants. Need implants? Grind game money—credits. And the setting was some post-Great War corporate dystopia, but if your specs sucked? Pure aim skill made combat difficulty vary wildly.

“Haa……”

Thinking about it dragged me into a bit of post-nut clarity, deflating my motivation. But seeing the blueprint of that hard-earned structure fired me up again.

I knew exactly what I needed. The grindy materials stung the eyes a bit, but I could farm 'em slowly en route to the ending. What bugged me now… was my Neo Haven overall completion, shredded to rags by two resets.

“Lemme see… Mega Corp conquest endings, karma-based outlaw endings… Great Union ending too…”

A decade of tormenting gamers worldwide, and to close the demonic saga? Only one sure proof: 100% all-clear.

“Alright…! I can do thiiiis!!”

Food? Three boxes of cup ramen—even looking at 'em choked me up. Water? Grabbed big PET bottles of every kind from the convenience store for variety. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sleep? Bed right behind the chair. Small room's a blessing here. Shitting? Duh, just hit the bathroom….

Full prep done, before diving back into Neo Haven, I finished the current run and hit main menu to make a fresh character profile.

“Hmm… Honestly, body stats maxable with late-game implants? Minimize 'em! Pump charisma and luck instead? Lab-born trait maxes intelligence and implant compatibility…… Perfect!”

Charisma boosted baseline NPC affinity, dialogue persuasion, and companion pool. Luck buffed random encounters, crits, probabilistic events. Picked traits to max strengths, patch weaknesses—even vets with more playtime couldn't nitpick.

Stats allocated, background set—appearance tab popped up. Even knowing every story, quest, collectible route? This marathon would take a month at least. Gotta stare at this face forever… so customize it badass? No mid-game tweaks needed, motivation stays high—best plan ever…?

……Looks matter like a motherfucker.

“Male chars rock the exosuit fit way harder…! Mmm!!”

Click! Remembering the utterly rational, one true reason to pick male, I dove straight into lifelike female customization.

Implant tattoos and holo-irises unlocked by background? Standard. Wild short cut, compact features, lowered height a tad for evasion over tank stats… Personally perfect character born.

Clearing and screenshotting? My tastes exposed to randos… but game industry's ruled by waifu-fags. I'm normal…!

“Character name… pretty and meaningful… uh…”

In the blinking blank, I typed a somewhat long but famous name.

Anastasia. Meaning: resurrection. My avatar through deaths, endings, resets—racing back to the start, toward the end.

And so… my Neo Haven shut-in life dragged on for weeks. Fresh quests had minor fuckups, hunting dev-hidden eggs and collectibles let me theorize the true ending… Teetered heroine affinities to max-minus-one, save-scummed multiples—pricked my conscience. Blitzed brutal bad luck with godlike RNG? Clapped solo in ecstasy. All-companions-sacrifice ending… tenth time, tears still welled.

“No wonder… it's the game of a lifetime…!!”

Great Union ending scenario—unite all Emerald City-rooted megacorps under player lead. There, with key mats, orbital elevator to space station finally activated the blueprint.

Lingering in feels halted input; against vast space backdrop, Anastasia scanned surroundings, checked cyberware. No hesitation needed.

Click.

“Y!!”

“……Huh?”

Asking again when I was geared for grand finale, recorder running? Peak global trolling from Chaos Point.

Once more, slamming keys to say no bullshit.

“…Fuck.”

Taptaptaptap!! Spam-clicked the keys. Might bitch about no respect for the GOAT game… but end in sight sapped tension, exhaustion hit. Check recording later for what it asked.

Some new words flashed by, but no time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to care. Inventory codes and station mats vanished; ancient state-era 3D printer whirred madly. Devoured mats birthed a screen-filling behemoth machine. Camera auto-pulled back like showing the ending, panned to Anastasia turning… then black.

“……”

End credits rolled, bottom flashed 100% completion congrats—my consciousness blacked out too. Praising this shitheap trash-game, burning my youth…! Sure, fun while playing, but now? Recording upload to patch life-budget holes—fucked…!!

In murky consciousness, faint panorama played. From test-tube girl's view: sterile white lab, undynamic. But yellow hazmat suits herded by black strike team, lined up, gunned down? Shocked me.

Corporate mil showing? Means wipe everything clean. What were they doing?

“You… will never…!! Retrieve her!! Flop? Defective prototype?! To those insulting our goddess, even ground zero's too generous…!”

One surviving biochem gas via lone air filter raged, slammed red panel—blinding flash swallowed them.

“Ah……?”

I awoke. In Anastasia's body. Amid the lab ruins.