Episode 5

The sheer impact of this experience profoundly enchanted many gamers, myself included. Once you tasted a full dive, there was no going back to the world of touch pens and movement sensors.

I turned to Klein, his eyes watering as he stared out at the rippling fields and distant city walls.

“So is SAO your first NerveGear game, period?”

“Yeah.” Klein nodded, turning his gallant face to me, like some proud samurai from the distant past.

When he maintained a serious expression, he could have been the lead actor in a period piece, but this did not reflect his real-life appearance. It was nothing more than a virtual avatar created from scratch out of a robust list of finely tuned parameters.

Naturally, I had also chosen a look befitting the hero of a fantasy anime, almost embarrassing in its shameless elegance.

Klein continued in a strong and clear voice, also likely to be falsified.

“Actually, I got SAO first, so I needed to buy the hardware just to play it. I mean, the first shipment was only ten thousand copies, right? I’m one of the lucky ones. Although, since you’ve been playing SAO since the beta test, that makes you ten times as lucky. There were only around a thousand testers!”

“I guess you could say that.” I scratched my head as he stared holes into me.

I could remember as though it were yesterday the excitement and enthusiasm that swept through the media when Sword Art Online was announced.

The NerveGear and its revolutionary new full-dive format were so novel that the actual software to take advantage of it lagged in response. Initial offerings were simple puzzle and educational titles, a source of serious disappointment to full-blown game addicts like me.

The NerveGear creates a true virtual world. But the effect of such freedom is entirely lost when the world you inhabit is so small that an impassable wall can be found within a hundred yards in any direction. Hardcore gamers like me were initially entranced by the experience of truly being inside a game, but it was only a matter of time before we sought a killer title in one very specific genre.

We wanted an MMORPG—an online game that hosted thousands of players in the same vast world together, living, fighting, and adventuring.

Just when desire and expectations had reached their peak came the announcement of Sword Art Online, the first-ever entry in the VRMMO genre.

The game took place in a massive floating fortress made up of a hundred expansive levels. Armed with nothing but the weapons in their hands, players explored each floor, packed with fields, forests, and towns, looking for the staircase upward and defeating terrifying guardian monsters in their quest to reach the top.

Unlike typical fantasy-themed MMOs, the concept of magic spells had been largely excised from the setting, making way for a nearly limitless combination of special attacks called “sword skills.” This was an intentional move to maximize the full-dive experience, forcing players to use their own bodies and swords to fight.

Skills applied not just to combat but also to crafting disciplines like blacksmithing, leatherworking, and tailoring; productive endeavors such as fishing and cooking; and even creative pursuits such as playing musical instruments. Therefore, players weren’t limited to adventuring within the vast virtual world—they could literally choose their own lifestyle within the game. With enough hard work, a player could buy a home, till fields, and raise sheep if he chose.

As details of these features trickled out in stages, enthusiasm among the gaming public rose to a fever pitch. A beta test was announced, in which a thousand players would be granted access to the game before release to help stress test the system and isolate software bugs. The developer was quickly swamped with more than 100,000 applicants, which represented nearly half of all NerveGear units sold at that point. That I somehow managed to slip through the crowd into one of tho