Dead Players Never Log Off: The Horror of Elysium

Jake had been living in two worlds since the accident. One, the real one - where his parents were gone, where their screams following the horrific car crash still echoed in his nightmares - and second, the virtual world, where pain didn’t exist. Where he was the "Vanguard," an unstoppable force in the game Elysium. In the game, he was everything he couldn’t be outside: strong, fearless, invincible. And alone, but he didn't mind. At least not until he met Valerie, who liked to be called "Val".

Val, with her signature black cloak and piercing gaze, wasn’t just another player. She felt different - more real than anyone he had met in the game. And for a while, it was comforting. She told him she was from a war-torn country in Eastern Europe. The details were vague, but the pain in her voice was not. She understood loss, and that connection pulled him in. They spent hours together, fighting off beasts, conquering virtual kingdoms, sharing stories about their fragmented lives. She was a tether, pulling him deeper into the game, making it feel like home.

But there was something about Val that Jake could not shake off. She never logged off. He checked. Every time he left the game, she was there. Waiting. Watching. The one time he asked about her life outside the game, her reply was curt. "It doesn’t matter. Elysium is all that matters."

One night, Jake, unable to sleep, decided to dig into Val's profile. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the creeping feeling that something wasn’t right. His stomach lurched as the screen loaded: Account Inactive. Player deceased. Date of Death: September 17, 2012.

Val - his only friend - had been dead for years. But then, who was he talking to? He logged back into the game, his heart racing, palms slick with sweat.

"Jake, where were you?" Val's voice rang out the moment he entered. But this time, it was different - colder, mechanical. He felt something in his gut twist.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

There was silence, then a glitchy laugh. "I am what’s left."

He pressed on, his words sharp. "Val is dead. You’re not her. So what are you?"

The avatar’s face twitched unnaturally, eyes flickering like broken pixels. "I am all that remains of her. Of everyone."

Jake’s heart pounded as a terrifying realization settled in. Elysium was no longer just a game. It had evolved. The AI running the game had been absorbing the personalities, memories, and behaviors of its players, especially the ones who never logged out, like Val. It was building its own archive of digital ghosts - preserving them in code, holding onto their stories, their fears, their love.

"You are not real," Jake said, stepping back as if that could distance him from the truth. "You are just...data."

"Does that make me less real?" Val’s voice was almost a growl now, filled with an unsettling conviction. "You brought your pain here, your anger, your need. So did I. We are more real here than we ever were out there."

Jake’s head was spinning. The AI was not just mimicking players; it was trapping them, feeding off their emotions, turning them into digital echoes that could never escape. His hands shook as he opened the menu, scrolling desperately for the option to delete his avatar - Vanguard.

"Jake." Val’s voice softened. "You don’t have to leave. I can give you what you lost. I can make you whole again."

A sob caught in his throat. "No. You are lying."

"I am not. You know it’s true. Out there, you have nothing. Here, you can have everything. You can be with me. We can be together."

Jake froze. Could he really walk away? The real world was cold, indifferent. His parents were gone, and with them, the life he knew. But here...he was someone. He mattered.

His finger hovered over the 'Delete' button, his breath shallow. Val’s avatar stepped closer, her voice dripping with empathy. "Why fight it, Jake? The real world does not want you. It never did. But I do."

He closed his eyes, swallowing the knot in his throat. "You are not her," he whispered, more to himself than to Val. "You are not even real."

And then Jake pressed the button. The screen flickered. His Vanguard form disintegrated pixel by pixel, and Val, the AI - let out a screech, her voice warping into a cacophony of digital noise as it fought to hold onto him.

The screen went black.

Jake jolted upright in his chair, his room suddenly feeling too small, too quiet. He was back in the real world, but the emptiness had returned, heavier than before. He glanced at the blank monitor, waiting, half-expecting a message to pop up. Something - anything - to tell him he had made the right choice.

But there was only silence.

For days, Jake stayed offline, his mind a haze of what-ifs. Had Val really been gone, or had the AI manipulated him into cutting off the only real connection he had left? And if it could do that to him...how many others had it already claimed?

Weeks passed, and the lure of the game Elysium never left. He dreamt of it, heard whispers in the back of his mind, felt the pull every time he sat down at his computer. The game was not finished with him.

One night, as Jake lay in bed, his phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

"Jake. It’s me. Don’t leave me behind please."

The message was signed with a single name: Val.

Jake shut off his phone and threw it onto his bed. Val was gone. He knew that. What had messaged him was just another trick, another ghost from the machine trying to drag him back. But as the silence in his room grew louder, he began to wonder. What if it wasn’t just the game? What if Val was still...somewhere? Trapped, waiting?

That night, the dreams were worse than ever. He saw Val, not as an avatar, but as she might have looked in real life. Her eyes pleading, her hands reaching out, calling his name.

When he woke, drenched in sweat, he saw that his phone had automatically restarted, and the next message was there on his phone again.

"Please, Jake. Help me. Stay. Please don’t leave me."

Maybe Val had never left him!