[ WP ] A virtual reality computer game in which dieing causes you to die in real life .

I entered the tavern and quickly scanned its occupants, looking for the legend. I spied him sitting in the back, staring blankly into virtual space. My friends has warned against this. But it had to be an urban legend, it was ridiculous. Even if nothing cool happened, winning just one round would provide me with enough funds to buy that sword I had been ogling. I walked passed the other patrons, their conversations cycling endlessly. My character ( an elf ) sat down facing the old man. `` Hello weary traveler, would you like to play a game? There's some gold in it for ya!'' I sat there looking at him, as he patiently awaited my response. I grimaced and clicked Yes. *This is ridiculous, I'm not afraid of something that is n't real. * I thought to myself. The old man's face retained the same gapped-tooth smile as he replied `` Alrighty then, why do n't you go first?'' The screen then shifted to the table. I started to sweat. I kept telling myself, *it is n't real. * But I was filled with an unshakable sense of dread. I closed my eyes and clicked. I was thrown violently from my chair by an invisible force, my headphones ripped from my ears and torn from the audio-jack. I hit the floor but kept rolling, crashing into walls, furniture, anything in my path. I swore I heard an deep, evil laugh coming from the general direction of my computer, but I could n't be sure, since I was being thrown around like a rag doll. After thirty pain filled seconds I came to a stop, my cheek coming to rest on the hardwood floor and my tail-end stuck comically in the air. But what came after was even worse. As I said before my turd-chucker, was stuck promptly in the air, and as I laid there dizzy and disoriented, I felt a tingling sensation emanating from my badly bruised badonkadonk, that slowly began to burn. I screamed in agony as my rear was seared like a well done sirloin. I lay there unable to move and in excruciating agony. The burning finally began to dissipate and I hobbled across the room to the bathroom door. I managed to open and limp over to the mirror by the sink. I turned around to see what in the hell had just happen- the number twenty had been branded on my... my ass. There was a twenty. Burned through my jeans. And onto. My ass. I looked at my face in the mirror and watched as my expression changed from one of pain and confusion to one of horror and dread as I heard the old man chuckle, `` A twenty? That's a roll to *die* for! You win twelve-hundred gold!'' *How could this be happening? * I thought. *That old man is evil, this game is evil! Wait did he say twelve-hundred gold? * I lurched over to my computer to confirm this. There it was, right there on the screen. Twelve-hundred gold. *Wow, that's more than those pay-to-win douches get. * I thought. The old man looked right at me with a sinister smile and said, `` Do you want to roll another round? `` We stared at each other for a while. Finally, I shrugged my dislocated shoulder and thought aloud. 
 
 `` Eh, what could it hurt?'' 
 
 Anyway, that's how I died.
