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My story is set in around 20 years time.
This is the real future of gaming.......
Examination day
The Wezal’s never spoke of the exam, not until there son, Wezal was 11 years old. It was on his birthday that Mrs Wezal first mentioned the subject, and the anxious manner of her speech caused her husband to answer sharply.
“Forget about it,” he said, “he’ll do alright.”
They were at the breakfast table, and the boy looked up from his plate curiously. He was a small youngster with flat brown hair. He didn’t know what the sudden tension was about, but he did know that today was his birthday and he wanted harmony above all. Somewhere in the little house there were wrapped packages waiting to be opened, and in the tiny kitchen something small and sweet was being prepared in the oven. He wanted the day to be happy but with his mothers wet eyes, and the scowl on his father’s face, it spoiled the mood of expectation in which he woke up with.
“What exam?” he asked.
His mother looked at the tablecloth. “It’s just a sort of Government test they give to all children at the age of 11. You’ll be taking it some time this week. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You mean like a test at school?” he said perking up.
“Something like that,” his father said, getting up from the table. “Go watch TV Wezal.” The boy rose and wandered off towards the TV. As he turned it on he seemed uninterested at the bright colours and the flashing lights. Instead he peered out of the window and looked at the wet grass.
“Why did it have to rain on my birthday?” he said. “Why not tomorrow?” His father slumped into his armchair.
“Because it just did that’s all,” he said in a grumpy voice.
“Sorry dad,” said Wezal in a small voice, “I’ll go and play on the computer and leave you alone.” With that his father sprung from his chair onto his feet. His mood had totally changed.
“No I’m sorry son.” His father said in a cheerful voice, “I know, why don’t we go look for your presents?” The man ran over and picked up the small child, then walked into the kitchen with the boy in his arms.
His mother smiled as she handed over the brightly rapped presents, then the birthday cake was taken out of the oven and the singing began!
Later that week at the breakfast table Wezal once again saw the moisture in his mothers eyes. He couldn’t connect the tears with the exam until his father suddenly brought up the subject again.
“Well Wezal,” he said in a manly voice, “you’ve got an appointment today”
“I know dad.”
“Now there’s nothing to worry about. Thousands of children take this test everyday. The people in power just wants to see how good you are.”
“I get good marks at school,” the boy said hesitantly.
“This is different. This is a ‘special’ kind of test.” Wezal’s face showed puzzlement, and a touch of horror. He looked at his mother as she forced a smile on her face.
“Everything will be alright,” she said.
“Of course it will,” agreed his father.
They entered the special reserve building 15 minutes before the appointment. They crossed the green carpeted floor until they got to the lift. They then entered the lift, which took them to the fourth floor.
There was a young man with jelled back hair and a blue shirt, seated at a wooden desk, infront of room 404.He held a clipboard in his hand and checked the list down to the W’s and allowed them to enter.
The room was cold with iron benches placed all over the floor space. The only being in sight was a short woman with cropped black hair, who was holding a pile of papers.
She showed them to a bench and gave Mr Wezal a form to fill out. Once he had finished he gave the paper back to the woman.
“It won’t be long now,” the father said, “when they call out your name, you just go through the door at the end of the room.” He pointed to the door with his finger.
At 5 minutes to 11 a hidden loudspeaker call out the name Wezal.
“Good luck son,” his father said sending him off to the door. As Wezal got to the door he turned the knob and opened the door.
The room inside was dim and he could hardly make out the features of the attendant who greeted him.
“Your name is Wezal?”
“Yes sir.”
“Your classification number is 600-602.” Wezal stood in silence while the attendant wrote on a sheet of paper.
“All right,” he said, “come with me Wezal.” He led Wezal to a wooden armchair facing a large screen.
“Now just relax Wezal. The computer will tell you what to do.” The man walked off quickly as Wezal sat down.
Flashes appeared on the screen an electronic voice said:
“You are Wezal, classification number 600-602?”
“Y-y-yes” Wezal said in a small-frightened voice.
“Please pick up the handset given to you.” Wezal looked around for the so said handset but it could not be seen.
The voice then said:
“If a handset has not been given to you, there should be a spare under your seat.” Wezal bent down and peered under the chair, and as had been promised there was the handset. It had four big round red ones, a small grey button with start written on it and a control stick on the left-hand side. He grabbed it, sat back up strait and dropped it on his lap.
Then the screen said:
“For the next few hours you shall be playing short simple computer game. You shall start off with an easy one, then once you have completed it you shall go onto a harder one…Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
It was almost four o’clock when the phone rang. Mr Wezal beat his wife to the phone.
“ Mr Wezal?”
The voice was sharp and clear.
“Yes speaking.”
“This is the government gaming service. Your son Wezal, classification number 600-602, has completed the government examination. We regret to inform you that your son’s gaming ability is above government regulation, according to rule 84, section 5, of the new code.”
The house fell silent.
“You may specify by telephone,” the voice droned on, “whether you wish his body to be incinerated by the government, or would you prefer a private burial…………
The End
This is the real future of gaming.......
Examination day
The Wezal’s never spoke of the exam, not until there son, Wezal was 11 years old. It was on his birthday that Mrs Wezal first mentioned the subject, and the anxious manner of her speech caused her husband to answer sharply.
“Forget about it,” he said, “he’ll do alright.”
They were at the breakfast table, and the boy looked up from his plate curiously. He was a small youngster with flat brown hair. He didn’t know what the sudden tension was about, but he did know that today was his birthday and he wanted harmony above all. Somewhere in the little house there were wrapped packages waiting to be opened, and in the tiny kitchen something small and sweet was being prepared in the oven. He wanted the day to be happy but with his mothers wet eyes, and the scowl on his father’s face, it spoiled the mood of expectation in which he woke up with.
“What exam?” he asked.
His mother looked at the tablecloth. “It’s just a sort of Government test they give to all children at the age of 11. You’ll be taking it some time this week. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You mean like a test at school?” he said perking up.
“Something like that,” his father said, getting up from the table. “Go watch TV Wezal.” The boy rose and wandered off towards the TV. As he turned it on he seemed uninterested at the bright colours and the flashing lights. Instead he peered out of the window and looked at the wet grass.
“Why did it have to rain on my birthday?” he said. “Why not tomorrow?” His father slumped into his armchair.
“Because it just did that’s all,” he said in a grumpy voice.
“Sorry dad,” said Wezal in a small voice, “I’ll go and play on the computer and leave you alone.” With that his father sprung from his chair onto his feet. His mood had totally changed.
“No I’m sorry son.” His father said in a cheerful voice, “I know, why don’t we go look for your presents?” The man ran over and picked up the small child, then walked into the kitchen with the boy in his arms.
His mother smiled as she handed over the brightly rapped presents, then the birthday cake was taken out of the oven and the singing began!
Later that week at the breakfast table Wezal once again saw the moisture in his mothers eyes. He couldn’t connect the tears with the exam until his father suddenly brought up the subject again.
“Well Wezal,” he said in a manly voice, “you’ve got an appointment today”
“I know dad.”
“Now there’s nothing to worry about. Thousands of children take this test everyday. The people in power just wants to see how good you are.”
“I get good marks at school,” the boy said hesitantly.
“This is different. This is a ‘special’ kind of test.” Wezal’s face showed puzzlement, and a touch of horror. He looked at his mother as she forced a smile on her face.
“Everything will be alright,” she said.
“Of course it will,” agreed his father.
They entered the special reserve building 15 minutes before the appointment. They crossed the green carpeted floor until they got to the lift. They then entered the lift, which took them to the fourth floor.
There was a young man with jelled back hair and a blue shirt, seated at a wooden desk, infront of room 404.He held a clipboard in his hand and checked the list down to the W’s and allowed them to enter.
The room was cold with iron benches placed all over the floor space. The only being in sight was a short woman with cropped black hair, who was holding a pile of papers.
She showed them to a bench and gave Mr Wezal a form to fill out. Once he had finished he gave the paper back to the woman.
“It won’t be long now,” the father said, “when they call out your name, you just go through the door at the end of the room.” He pointed to the door with his finger.
At 5 minutes to 11 a hidden loudspeaker call out the name Wezal.
“Good luck son,” his father said sending him off to the door. As Wezal got to the door he turned the knob and opened the door.
The room inside was dim and he could hardly make out the features of the attendant who greeted him.
“Your name is Wezal?”
“Yes sir.”
“Your classification number is 600-602.” Wezal stood in silence while the attendant wrote on a sheet of paper.
“All right,” he said, “come with me Wezal.” He led Wezal to a wooden armchair facing a large screen.
“Now just relax Wezal. The computer will tell you what to do.” The man walked off quickly as Wezal sat down.
Flashes appeared on the screen an electronic voice said:
“You are Wezal, classification number 600-602?”
“Y-y-yes” Wezal said in a small-frightened voice.
“Please pick up the handset given to you.” Wezal looked around for the so said handset but it could not be seen.
The voice then said:
“If a handset has not been given to you, there should be a spare under your seat.” Wezal bent down and peered under the chair, and as had been promised there was the handset. It had four big round red ones, a small grey button with start written on it and a control stick on the left-hand side. He grabbed it, sat back up strait and dropped it on his lap.
Then the screen said:
“For the next few hours you shall be playing short simple computer game. You shall start off with an easy one, then once you have completed it you shall go onto a harder one…Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
It was almost four o’clock when the phone rang. Mr Wezal beat his wife to the phone.
“ Mr Wezal?”
The voice was sharp and clear.
“Yes speaking.”
“This is the government gaming service. Your son Wezal, classification number 600-602, has completed the government examination. We regret to inform you that your son’s gaming ability is above government regulation, according to rule 84, section 5, of the new code.”
The house fell silent.
“You may specify by telephone,” the voice droned on, “whether you wish his body to be incinerated by the government, or would you prefer a private burial…………
The End
Page:
My story is set in around 20 years time.
This is the real future of gaming.......
Examination day
The Wezal’s never spoke of the exam, not until there son, Wezal was 11 years old. It was on his birthday that Mrs Wezal first mentioned the subject, and the anxious manner of her speech caused her husband to answer sharply.
“Forget about it,” he said, “he’ll do alright.”
They were at the breakfast table, and the boy looked up from his plate curiously. He was a small youngster with flat brown hair. He didn’t know what the sudden tension was about, but he did know that today was his birthday and he wanted harmony above all. Somewhere in the little house there were wrapped packages waiting to be opened, and in the tiny kitchen something small and sweet was being prepared in the oven. He wanted the day to be happy but with his mothers wet eyes, and the scowl on his father’s face, it spoiled the mood of expectation in which he woke up with.
“What exam?” he asked.
His mother looked at the tablecloth. “It’s just a sort of Government test they give to all children at the age of 11. You’ll be taking it some time this week. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You mean like a test at school?” he said perking up.
“Something like that,” his father said, getting up from the table. “Go watch TV Wezal.” The boy rose and wandered off towards the TV. As he turned it on he seemed uninterested at the bright colours and the flashing lights. Instead he peered out of the window and looked at the wet grass.
“Why did it have to rain on my birthday?” he said. “Why not tomorrow?” His father slumped into his armchair.
“Because it just did that’s all,” he said in a grumpy voice.
“Sorry dad,” said Wezal in a small voice, “I’ll go and play on the computer and leave you alone.” With that his father sprung from his chair onto his feet. His mood had totally changed.
“No I’m sorry son.” His father said in a cheerful voice, “I know, why don’t we go look for your presents?” The man ran over and picked up the small child, then walked into the kitchen with the boy in his arms.
His mother smiled as she handed over the brightly rapped presents, then the birthday cake was taken out of the oven and the singing began!
Later that week at the breakfast table Wezal once again saw the moisture in his mothers eyes. He couldn’t connect the tears with the exam until his father suddenly brought up the subject again.
“Well Wezal,” he said in a manly voice, “you’ve got an appointment today”
“I know dad.”
“Now there’s nothing to worry about. Thousands of children take this test everyday. The people in power just wants to see how good you are.”
“I get good marks at school,” the boy said hesitantly.
“This is different. This is a ‘special’ kind of test.” Wezal’s face showed puzzlement, and a touch of horror. He looked at his mother as she forced a smile on her face.
“Everything will be alright,” she said.
“Of course it will,” agreed his father.
They entered the special reserve building 15 minutes before the appointment. They crossed the green carpeted floor until they got to the lift. They then entered the lift, which took them to the fourth floor.
There was a young man with jelled back hair and a blue shirt, seated at a wooden desk, infront of room 404.He held a clipboard in his hand and checked the list down to the W’s and allowed them to enter.
The room was cold with iron benches placed all over the floor space. The only being in sight was a short woman with cropped black hair, who was holding a pile of papers.
She showed them to a bench and gave Mr Wezal a form to fill out. Once he had finished he gave the paper back to the woman.
“It won’t be long now,” the father said, “when they call out your name, you just go through the door at the end of the room.” He pointed to the door with his finger.
At 5 minutes to 11 a hidden loudspeaker call out the name Wezal.
“Good luck son,” his father said sending him off to the door. As Wezal got to the door he turned the knob and opened the door.
The room inside was dim and he could hardly make out the features of the attendant who greeted him.
“Your name is Wezal?”
“Yes sir.”
“Your classification number is 600-602.” Wezal stood in silence while the attendant wrote on a sheet of paper.
“All right,” he said, “come with me Wezal.” He led Wezal to a wooden armchair facing a large screen.
“Now just relax Wezal. The computer will tell you what to do.” The man walked off quickly as Wezal sat down.
Flashes appeared on the screen an electronic voice said:
“You are Wezal, classification number 600-602?”
“Y-y-yes” Wezal said in a small-frightened voice.
“Please pick up the handset given to you.” Wezal looked around for the so said handset but it could not be seen.
The voice then said:
“If a handset has not been given to you, there should be a spare under your seat.” Wezal bent down and peered under the chair, and as had been promised there was the handset. It had four big round red ones, a small grey button with start written on it and a control stick on the left-hand side. He grabbed it, sat back up strait and dropped it on his lap.
Then the screen said:
“For the next few hours you shall be playing short simple computer game. You shall start off with an easy one, then once you have completed it you shall go onto a harder one…Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
It was almost four o’clock when the phone rang. Mr Wezal beat his wife to the phone.
“ Mr Wezal?”
The voice was sharp and clear.
“Yes speaking.”
“This is the government gaming service. Your son Wezal, classification number 600-602, has completed the government examination. We regret to inform you that your son’s gaming ability is above government regulation, according to rule 84, section 5, of the new code.”
The house fell silent.
“You may specify by telephone,” the voice droned on, “whether you wish his body to be incinerated by the government, or would you prefer a private burial…………
The End
This is the real future of gaming.......
Examination day
The Wezal’s never spoke of the exam, not until there son, Wezal was 11 years old. It was on his birthday that Mrs Wezal first mentioned the subject, and the anxious manner of her speech caused her husband to answer sharply.
“Forget about it,” he said, “he’ll do alright.”
They were at the breakfast table, and the boy looked up from his plate curiously. He was a small youngster with flat brown hair. He didn’t know what the sudden tension was about, but he did know that today was his birthday and he wanted harmony above all. Somewhere in the little house there were wrapped packages waiting to be opened, and in the tiny kitchen something small and sweet was being prepared in the oven. He wanted the day to be happy but with his mothers wet eyes, and the scowl on his father’s face, it spoiled the mood of expectation in which he woke up with.
“What exam?” he asked.
His mother looked at the tablecloth. “It’s just a sort of Government test they give to all children at the age of 11. You’ll be taking it some time this week. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“You mean like a test at school?” he said perking up.
“Something like that,” his father said, getting up from the table. “Go watch TV Wezal.” The boy rose and wandered off towards the TV. As he turned it on he seemed uninterested at the bright colours and the flashing lights. Instead he peered out of the window and looked at the wet grass.
“Why did it have to rain on my birthday?” he said. “Why not tomorrow?” His father slumped into his armchair.
“Because it just did that’s all,” he said in a grumpy voice.
“Sorry dad,” said Wezal in a small voice, “I’ll go and play on the computer and leave you alone.” With that his father sprung from his chair onto his feet. His mood had totally changed.
“No I’m sorry son.” His father said in a cheerful voice, “I know, why don’t we go look for your presents?” The man ran over and picked up the small child, then walked into the kitchen with the boy in his arms.
His mother smiled as she handed over the brightly rapped presents, then the birthday cake was taken out of the oven and the singing began!
Later that week at the breakfast table Wezal once again saw the moisture in his mothers eyes. He couldn’t connect the tears with the exam until his father suddenly brought up the subject again.
“Well Wezal,” he said in a manly voice, “you’ve got an appointment today”
“I know dad.”
“Now there’s nothing to worry about. Thousands of children take this test everyday. The people in power just wants to see how good you are.”
“I get good marks at school,” the boy said hesitantly.
“This is different. This is a ‘special’ kind of test.” Wezal’s face showed puzzlement, and a touch of horror. He looked at his mother as she forced a smile on her face.
“Everything will be alright,” she said.
“Of course it will,” agreed his father.
They entered the special reserve building 15 minutes before the appointment. They crossed the green carpeted floor until they got to the lift. They then entered the lift, which took them to the fourth floor.
There was a young man with jelled back hair and a blue shirt, seated at a wooden desk, infront of room 404.He held a clipboard in his hand and checked the list down to the W’s and allowed them to enter.
The room was cold with iron benches placed all over the floor space. The only being in sight was a short woman with cropped black hair, who was holding a pile of papers.
She showed them to a bench and gave Mr Wezal a form to fill out. Once he had finished he gave the paper back to the woman.
“It won’t be long now,” the father said, “when they call out your name, you just go through the door at the end of the room.” He pointed to the door with his finger.
At 5 minutes to 11 a hidden loudspeaker call out the name Wezal.
“Good luck son,” his father said sending him off to the door. As Wezal got to the door he turned the knob and opened the door.
The room inside was dim and he could hardly make out the features of the attendant who greeted him.
“Your name is Wezal?”
“Yes sir.”
“Your classification number is 600-602.” Wezal stood in silence while the attendant wrote on a sheet of paper.
“All right,” he said, “come with me Wezal.” He led Wezal to a wooden armchair facing a large screen.
“Now just relax Wezal. The computer will tell you what to do.” The man walked off quickly as Wezal sat down.
Flashes appeared on the screen an electronic voice said:
“You are Wezal, classification number 600-602?”
“Y-y-yes” Wezal said in a small-frightened voice.
“Please pick up the handset given to you.” Wezal looked around for the so said handset but it could not be seen.
The voice then said:
“If a handset has not been given to you, there should be a spare under your seat.” Wezal bent down and peered under the chair, and as had been promised there was the handset. It had four big round red ones, a small grey button with start written on it and a control stick on the left-hand side. He grabbed it, sat back up strait and dropped it on his lap.
Then the screen said:
“For the next few hours you shall be playing short simple computer game. You shall start off with an easy one, then once you have completed it you shall go onto a harder one…Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
It was almost four o’clock when the phone rang. Mr Wezal beat his wife to the phone.
“ Mr Wezal?”
The voice was sharp and clear.
“Yes speaking.”
“This is the government gaming service. Your son Wezal, classification number 600-602, has completed the government examination. We regret to inform you that your son’s gaming ability is above government regulation, according to rule 84, section 5, of the new code.”
The house fell silent.
“You may specify by telephone,” the voice droned on, “whether you wish his body to be incinerated by the government, or would you prefer a private burial…………
The End
It seemed good, much too short, but good anyways. That was until the end paragraph. All you have used this story for is to try and say that you are an above average gamer.....pitifull.
(;o(
(;o(
that wasn't what i was trying to say at all.
All it was,was a story which may be the future,(as if)
with a twist at the end........
All it was,was a story which may be the future,(as if)
with a twist at the end........
If i realy wanted to say i was good why would i go to all the trouble of wrighting a story.
Why not just do it in a post on one of the other topics?
Why not just do it in a post on one of the other topics?
Thanks to Iguana for pointing this out:
This sounds word for word like a story we had to dramatise last term in Drama class. Aside from a few small details and names, it's got exactly the same setting, plot etc...
Anyone else read it?
This sounds word for word like a story we had to dramatise last term in Drama class. Aside from a few small details and names, it's got exactly the same setting, plot etc...
Anyone else read it?
Ok, aside fromt he obvious fact that this is about gaming and the other was general intellegence, but hey..
oh yes! I was the examiner person..
It's pretty much word for word..
It's pretty much word for word..
Who was I in it? Think I was the dad actually, can't remember the whole group..
erm..
No idea, but I got told to go into the corner, because I wasn't in the scene yet. I resented that.
No idea, but I got told to go into the corner, because I wasn't in the scene yet. I resented that.
Lol...you're a great actor really, Inspector. You did the standing quietly in the corner role very well..
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