The Punishment Festival

"K-O! Winner, Musashi!!!" The applause echoed, and the crowd chanted the name of the winner: "Mu-sa-shi, Mu-sa-shi, Mu-sa-shi!..." I had just arrived and witnessed the fight, which was the third match of the tournament. I was shocked by the dark originality of the concept, which initially seemed like a simple fighting game facing two opponents against each other. The game was presented like a theater, with a central stage and chairs arranged in an arc around it. The players were seated off-stage, each on a separate elevated platform. A table with two commentators was centrally located in front of the stage. A giant screen was placed at the center, and the detail that piqued my curiosity: two women in tight outfits identical to those of the fighters on in the game were seated at each end of the screen. Their arms, legs, and necks were bound, immobilizing them to the chairs, with numerous cables running through their costumes. They also wore virtual reality helmets and masks connected to oxygen tanks, leaving only their beautiful hair visible.

I had an advantage over the other players who had to learn the game through their first fight, as I had already participated in the beta version during development. Yes, because I am Anne-Laure Norin, alias "Hildr, the Battle Queen," one of the top 5 fighters in the country. As skilled female players are rare, I'm pampered and often invited to eSports events to boost marketing. However, this time, I was contacted by Unisoft to test a fighting game they were developing for a specific occasion. They needed help to refine the game's mechanics, like the fluidity of combos or character balance. For once, being invited for my skills and not just my gender, I couldn't help but participate with pride.

"Amazons Battle Arena" was a classic 3D fighting game. The characters were finely modeled with great attention to detail, aiming for a realistic and martial style, focusing solely on hand-to-hand combat. The attacks were diverse: high, mid, low strikes, guard breaks, and throws. Each character had a unique style and design; some were agile and fast but dealt less damage, others were slow and powerful, excelling in throws, while some were more balanced. I was surprised to see that all the characters were female, each in provocatively revealing outfits, and I thought this was yet another game designed to appeal to male players, which made sense given the male-dominated audience. Another curiosity during my test: there was no health bar, only a generic mini-cardiogram next to the name that changed color as the fighter took damage. Green for good health; yellow, slightly weakened; orange, moderately injured; and red, critically damaged. The game's special feature was that when a fighter was critically damaged, the opponent could perform an unblockable finishing move to end the fight with a normal throw. After helping them refine each character for a week, I received a generous sum and the promise of being among the first players at the game's launch. Indeed, months later, I received an invitation to participate in a tournament at a festival where I would face other professional players, but it mentioned no further details beyond the name of the game I had worked on.

Having played too much the night before, I was late... It was a terrible idea to play before sleeping just because I was stressed. The game made me even more anxious, and I could only fall asleep around 4 AM, finally collapsing from exhaustion. I rushed to check in at the reception, hoping it wasn't too late since the tournament had already started... But what a relief when I was told someone from the organization had already registered me. It was probably one of the developers I worked with because he even knew my favorite character, Chow-Li, a poetic name meaning "beautiful summer" in Chinese. Chow-Li specializes in Kung Fu and is known for her kicks; she's what we call a glass cannon: fast and powerful, but very squishy. I was confirmed that everything was in order and was invited to settle in for the next match, which, fortunately, was just before mine. The next fight pitted Musashi, the country's number one, against Bullet, a young prodigy who had rapidly risen to claim the last spot in the top 10. The tournament, and indeed the entire festival, was for an adult audience, and Bullet had just turned 18, making him eligible to participate. I took a seat in the second row; the players shook hands and headed to their platforms.

"Would you like some coffee?" he offered, handing me a steaming cup as he arrived. "François!!!" I exclaimed, gratefully accepting the lifesaving beverage. I recognized him; he was the game's lead developer. François sat next to me, "Actually, I should have brought you chamomile instead... You'll be buzzing like a bee." He laughed, teasing me gently. "The coffee is perfect... I didn't have time for anything this morning," I replied gratefully. "Good thing we were vigilant. Noticing your absence, I took the initiative to register you." "Yes! I thought when I arrived that everything was lost. Thank you, you really helped me out." "I would have been more disappointed not to see you play." he said with a smile. We sipped our coffee quietly as the commentators made their announcements: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the third match will begin soon. The player on the left is our famous number one and tournament favorite, Musashi!" exclaimed the first commentator. Then the second continued, "And on your right, despite being last in the top 10, he has never lost a single match, please applaud, Bullet!" While the crowd cheered the players, two employees brought two prisoners onto the stage. Their arms were bound behind their backs, and their guards guided them with capture poles that had loops tightening around their necks. The women were then strapped into the chairs. I watched this scene with a mix of fascination and unease. "What are these prisoners doing here?" I asked myself.

"What are they for?" I asked François. "They're part of the game," he replied, full of mystery, while I looked at him skeptically... "They're life points bags, each linked to a fighter in the game." I didn't need further explanation to understand. I deduced that the helmets they wore allowed for complete immersion in the fight but cruelly reduced them to helpless spectators, living puppets whose strings were being pulled. "So, the fighters' cardiograms actually belong to these women?" "Exactly, the four states are calculated based on their heart rate." I shuddered at this terrible news, "You designed the game for this purpose? It's really insane..." He remained oddly detached at my comment, "It's even the State that commissioned us, not in detail, of course, but we had to meet certain objectives." I was horrified. And to think I had also contributed to finishing this sinister game... "I'm not sure if I'll participate..." I said apprehensively. "I advise against backing out because they might take you for a spy, and you could end up on the other side of the barrier." A chill ran down my spine, immediate fear mixed with morbid excitement at the thought that I could be brought in like an animal and tied to one of those chairs. His look of concern comforted me, though. "Well, I'll see how things unfold with this match before deciding." At this point, I felt deep unease, but there was this curiosity in me that timidly wanted to see more.

"Fight!!!" The match had begun. Musashi controlled Sofia, a very slow wrestler, but her throws were devastating. Bullet had Kasumi, an agile and quick Kunoichi, but less impactful. A battle where the stats of the characters were diametrically opposed. I had to watch them closely because one of them would be my opponent if I won my next match. Bullet drew first blood with a sweep following an aerial attack, and the damage was transferred to the real Sofia, eliciting a jolt of pain. Bullet skillfully chained his combos, mixing high and low attacks, never giving his opponent a chance to counter. Several hits landed, and Sofia twisted in pain, her body receiving a succession of electric shocks. Her cardiogram now shifted to yellow. I noticed a small blue bar slowly depleting and made a remark to François, "There wasn't this blue bar in the alpha version." and he responded, "It represents the remaining oxygen. You see, we had to find a way to limit the duration of the fight." An answer that made me swallow hard; would they stop the fight before the person passed out from lack of oxygen? I asked myself internally, but subconsciously, I knew the answer.

Bullet eventually made a mistake, and Musashi capitalized with a throw. On the screen, Sofia's avatar executed a German Suplex, a popular move where she lifted her opponent by the waist, flipped them over, and slammed them head-first into the ground. Kasumi screamed behind her mask, her hips lifted, and for several seconds, her body endured continuous shocks. When her ordeal ended, she fell back into the chair, gasping, her body trembling with spasms. Her cardiogram turned orange. I found myself crossing my legs, feeling my little button pulsing. "She took a lot for two reasons: one, the enormous difference in power and defense between the characters; two, the parts hit, which are the shoulders, back, and head," François explained. I didn't know it, but this game implemented the concept of "Hitbox," which meant it could trigger electric shocks on the body parts in line with the damage taken by the avatars. Thoughts raced through my mind: low attacks would be much less effective than strikes to the body or head. A character with weak attacks would be doomed to win by attrition... This new information drastically changed the game's dynamics.

Bullet recovered and played again with perfect timing, almost superhuman. He managed a guard break, leaving Musashi defenseless. And quickly, he followed up with three more attacks, two to the body and one to the head. The crowd, in admiration, applauded generously. Each hit Sofia took drew a scream from her. And the last blow plunged her into total distress; she shook her head in protest and struggled against her bonds. I felt pity watching her squirm in her chair, all she achieved was to consume her precious oxygen faster. But what else could she do? I imagined myself in her place, alone, at the mercy of relentless shocks, my fate in the hands of a stranger... I could only hope that the one sharing my grim fate suffered pain unbearable enough to pass out and end this hell I hadn't chosen to compete in. Sofia's status turned orange, her blue bar significantly more depleted than her opponent's; she had only a third left, while Kasumi still had over half and, having had a moment to recover, her cardiogram had returned to yellow, putting her in a favorable position.

Musashi was not the number one for nothing; he typically played defensively at first to observe his opponent and often lost the first round. But in the second, he would go on the offensive and win, leaving his opponent stunned in complete bewilderment. Suddenly, the shrill screams of the pain dolls pulled me from my thoughts. Indeed, as expected, Musashi had changed his style. Becoming more aggressive with a perfect read on his opponent, he waited for a light hit to counter with a blow to the solar plexus at the same moment. When his opponent didn't attack, he advanced, giving him no choice but to defend or be thrown. Now our two martyrs received electric shocks simultaneously at regular intervals, testing each other's endurance. But the exchanges were far from equivalent, as considering the fighters' stats and the increased damage from "counter attacks," Kasumi received four times the damage Sofia did with each hit. Each transfer of injury was like a lance piercing through her, to the point where some hits made her body jump without her being able to scream. Kasumi reached the critical threshold while Sofia stayed in orange but was nearly out of oxygen. Musashi's cruel strategy was paying off, and I wondered if I too would be able to devise such a plan without regard for my "partner"?

"This match is about to conclude, but who will triumph? Will we have the chance to see the infamous 'Finish Move' executed?" one commentator exclaimed enthusiastically. The audience was silent, watching the last seconds intently. On the screen, we could see Bullet desperately fleeing the fight by making Kasumi jump back to buy time. Sofia's oxygen bar was just a pixel wide, her time counted in seconds... But Musashi managed to corner his opponent and executed his move. A special animation triggered, and we saw Sofia grab Kasumi, flip her upside down, jump into the air to spin around before slamming her down. Insane electric impulses overwhelmed Kasumi's body, making her convulse in a macabre dance. Her partner in torment, Sofia, thrashed around frantically, fighting against her suffocation. Then the screen announced in bold, flashy letters, "Winner, Sophia! Congratulations." The commentators announced the victor, and the space filled with cheers and applause, while employees leisurely approached the stage to aid the distressed prisoners.

Sofia was rescued before losing consciousness, but I saw Kasumi's pale face when they removed her mask; her mouth was frozen in a silent scream, her tongue lolling out, eyes rolled back in ultimate terror, her body limp like a disarticulated puppet. François had a hand over his mouth, as if to shield himself from what he had just witnessed. He checked his phone and confirmed my fear: "Her heart stopped, she's dead..." A dull pain erupted in my stomach, and I trembled with nervousness. She had parents, she had a story, she had dreams! And this person had become mere fuel for this delirious spectacle. I stood there, trying to convince myself that this was truly absolute horror. But a beast lurking in my shadows relished every moment of this spectacle, making me increasingly hot and wet. And what truly frightened me wasn't all these horrors, but the perverse pleasure I took in watching.

I battled internally over whether I should also contribute to these unholy practices. My thoughts then drifted back to my adolescence, to a time when I felt empty; the activities that "normal" girls did didn't suit me, and my parents were always very absent, often leaving me lost with myself. Then one day, I discovered video games in an arcade that had opened in a mall near my home. My life changed; I met other youths and participated in amateur tournaments. My talents were recognized, and I felt at home in this world. Coming back to reality, I was convinced I had to continue, even if it meant stepping over corpses.

"So, did you spot any weaknesses in your potential next opponent?" François asked. I made a face to hide my excitement. "The challenge for me will be to take the lead right from the start and beat him before he has time to adapt." "You've decided to participate then... What made you change your mind?" He had just asked an embarrassing question. "Curiosity..." I said, keeping it vague. I watched the staff wheeling the fighters away on stretchers while others arrived to clean the chairs soiled with sweat and urine. Then I saw two more prisoners brought onto the stage in the same manner as before. I watched them with detachment... With one certainty: my hands would be stained with their blood, the only unknown being the amount.