[ WP ] Video games come to life and everyone is the game character of the game they 've played the most in today 's society .

A deep, gravelly voice echoes in the back of my mind; darkness covers my vision, I can not see. As the voice drops off, muttering the last few words in a monologue dedicated to an ancient people, the darkness lifts, slowly, slowly. 
 
 I am hovering above a portion of land, a group of hungry, tired travelers huddled tightly together below me. They look to be wearing ancient garb, as if they were a nomadic tribe. They look close enough for me to touch, but I can not seem to reach out a hand to them. They look like they are in need. 
 
 Suddenly, a light flashes in my peripheral. My mind reaches out to the light, and the people below me shift, laying down their packs on the smooth earth. Then they begin to change shape. The bodies melt into the ground, their bags and sacks and trunks sinking deep underground, their animals dissolving with them. Up from the earth comes the foundations of a city. 
 
 A name shines above it: Moson-Kahni. Visible borders sprawl out across the earth around the city, a brown line signifying the edge of the boundaries. A blue hue creeps towards the city from the brown borders. Above me is a name, my name: Pocatello. 
 
 This name seems foreign to me at first, but I believe I know who it is. It seems the answer to the question of who Pocatello is lies right on the tip of my proverbial tongue, but I can not seem to access it. 
 
 My attention is grabbed by another group of explorers to the right of the newly formed city. This is a group of pathfinders apparently. A gold circle surrounds them, yet they show no sign of worry. They are looking around, analyzing what is around them. They seem just as new to the land as I am. 
 
 Another light appears in my peripheral, in the same spot as before. I reach out to it in the same manner, and a blueish-silver arrow extends from the golden circle by which the pathfinders are bound. I release the arrow in my mind, and the pathfinders move, as one solid unit, in the direction of the arrow, discovering more of the land surrounding Moson-Kahni. 
 
 To my right, in my peripheral, just outside my realm of vision, is another light. I venture forth through my mind to see it, and I release it. Above me reads, `` End of turn.'' Next to that statement is the year 3960 BC. 
 
 I'm existing in the beginning of time, or what seems to be the beginning. The beginning for Moson-Kahni. 
 
 Above me reads, `` Turn 2,'' and the gold circle appears around the pathfinders once more. 
 __________________________________________________________________ 
 
 I finally have Moscow surrounded. Catherine had been a nuisance for the entirety of this progression of time. I have defeated all of the civilizations whom challenged me. Some victories came at a great cost to my people; others were swift and painless - for me, at least. 
 
 All who remains is Catherine. She pleads with me nearly every turn, `` May we agree on a treaty of peace?'' She offers every resource she owns, which is now very little. Moscow is beaten to a pulp, and all I need to do now is send my XCOM soldiers in to capture it, and the world will finally be mine. 
 
 Catherine pleads one last time, an extra twinge of desperation and pain hidden in her robotic voice and mannerisms. I heed her not a moment longer, drive her away, and decisively capture her city. My XCOM soldiers stride into the damaged, dilapidated capital of a once great nation, and its borders shift and change into the brownish blueish hue that has encircled the globe. 
 
 The game is mine, I am victorious. After nearly 6,000 years of conflict, turmoil, and destruction, I have finally won it all. The screen shifts and darkens, like it had been in the beginning. The deep, gravelly voice resonates out of sight, echoing through the darkness. 
 
 As the voice trails off, its speech fading into nonexistence, my vision returns to see a familiar-looking group of nomads who wish to settle a new city centered in the middle of my sight. The all-too-familiar golden circle enclosing a group of explorers now simply called scouts. 
 
 I sigh, or try to, in my nonhuman form, and whisper, `` Here we go again.''
