Author's Note: Every single chapter title alludes to a movie or a television series that I have watched and enjoyed immensely, and would whole-heartedly recommend to you all.
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Wyatt Harrington (POV)
THUNK – THUNK!
The dull, heavy sound had been playing out for several minutes now. It seemed to be coming from the Astro Turf.
Sigh, now what new spectacle is little Richmond the cause of? Perhaps, it's something harmless, such as going back to his roots and polishing his football skills. But then again, knowing Ricky, it could be anything.
I still remember the time he built a remote-control car out of an assortment of items, and it actually worked. It still does I think, though I could not say for sure considering it has been collecting dust in the attic for months now.
Anyways, I hurry up my pace as I near the net. And there, I see him. Young Richmond in his custom fit jersey, his legs fitted with studs and stockings, as he shoots the ball towards the goalpost.
As in, the goalpost. Not the goal. He's striking the crossbar again and again, in a continuous flow of shots and rebounds, ensuring the ball always comes back to him.
It was downright impressive to be frank, to have attained such delicate ball control and fantastic vision and accuracy at his age. I would know. I did use to play for Blackburn once upon a time. Was one of the best goalkeepers they ever had, for 4 full years. Too bad, I can't exactly relive my glory days. My nerve injury closed the matter on that account.
Hmm, Ricky…, looking at his face, I've got absolutely no idea what he's thinking right now. He has that same eerily blank face he uses, whenever he plays poker. God knows where, and more importantly why, he learnt how to do that.
I glance at my wristwatch to see…
5:58
Well, dinner won't be for another hour… I suppose I can leave Ricky to his own thoughts for some time.
I start walking back towards the estate, hoping to finish re-arranging the crockery unit before the day ends.
MC (POV)
RING – RING, RING – RING!
The alarm rang, signaling the end of my time in the cold plunge.
I heaved myself out of the tub, filled with floating particles of ice.
PING!
[Your cold plunge has officially come to an end. +2 WIS for the next hour due to the release of endorphins and the spike of dopamine. Status Effect: Swelling has been nullified.]
Sigh.
Thank god for that. You know a massive benefit of the gamer? It's that, whenever you gain even a minor injury of any form, whether it be a rash, a swelling, inflammation, sprain - hell even a paper cut, you don't need to wait for days on end for the symptoms to subside.
These aberrations only exist as status effects, and status effects – well, they can be nullified with the right activity.
Though I suppose, prevention is better than cure. Hmm, maybe I should dial back a little the next time I play football?
Eh, that's future me's problem.
I skip past the arch, leading into the mansion as I make my way to the dinner table, all decked out with fine delicacies.
Sniff – Sniff
Ooh, is that roast salmon I smell? Well I am famished; this day has not been easy on my body and mind.
The entire time I had spent hitting the crossbar again and again today, I wasn't exerting any special brain power. With the help of the gamer, my shots were surgical for the lack of a better word.
My rebounds were so accurate, I barely moved around in a 2 ft radius to receive the ball.
My brain was in fact, occupied with the previous day's thoughts. It took me hours, but I think I've made my decision regarding my future career path.
I sat down at the dining table and served myself some soup.
"So… it's been a day now. You any closer to making up your mind today than you were yesterday?"
My father seated across from me spoke up, an earnest expression adorning his slightly wrinkled face.
"Actually, yes." I replied, and then went back to my soup. It was just so delicious.
After a few moments of silence, "Well? Care to share?" He voiced out.
"I suppose." I replied as I put my spoon aside.
"So, it took me a few hours. I did everything, brainstorming, researching, meditating, you name it. And I uh, I think I finally know exactly what I want for my future." I met his eyes, "Just hear me out now. I-I gotta explain my thought process."
"The floor's yours." He said as he began cutting up his salmon.
"Well, while meditating, my thoughts kinda deviated and went in a really dark direction. As in, I was contemplating the purpose of life and death, pretty sure the transcript of my thoughts could make for a chilling podcast." I chuckle lightly, "Anyways, I was wondering what would happen after I die. Like, what impact would I have made on people. What would they say if my name ever came up? Or even worse, would they even know who the fuck I was? Would anyone truly remember me? Would I just be a nameless cog in the machine, that is bureaucracy?"
I paused, taking in a deep breath.
"That's when I had an epiphany of sorts... I want to make an impact that's for sure. But will I look back at my life, and have regrets if I choose a path where I can continuously get objectively better? Will my life be reduced to a bunch of stats that measure my performance at the end of the day? No. No, no, no – hell no. I wanna do something that is subjective in nature. A field where excellence varies from perspective to perspective."
I let out my breath, as I close my eyes and take a moment to myself. I open them, only to find dad listening intently, his cutlery set aside next to his rapidly cooling salmon.
"I thought back to yesterday you know. City Lights. I have watched a handful of movies and tv shows, but city lights? I-It was easily the best. I got curious you know, about the people who were capable of making that masterpiece back then. So… I looked into the movie. The production, the circumstances of its release, everything. I was expecting it to be this big studio production, with a large budget, and even larger expectations, with masters of their art working on every aspect of it."
"And what pray tell, did you discover?" My dad interrupted; a growing smirk visible on his countenance.
I sighed, "Judging by the growing smile on your face, you obviously know where I'm going with this."
"Please, tell me anyway. I would like nothing more than to hear your thoughts on the matter."
"Fine, fine. Now a movie, it usually has different people filling different roles. The producers, the director, the cast, the editor, the composer, the screenwriter, etc. So, imagine my surprise, when I found out. Apparently, Charlie Chaplin was NOT, just a famed comedian. He was one of the most influential figures in the history of American cinema. A bona-fide auteur he was. That absolute legend, was not only the lead actor. He wrote the script, was responsible for its production, directed it masterfully and edited it into the final theatrical version. He also composed its iconic score."
"Yes, yes he did." My dad chuckled, "Anything else?"
"Oh, so much more, just wait for it. Apparently, sound films became the norm in 1927. Charlie released this in 1931, four years into the era of 'talkies'. It was an act of defiance against the then current trends. It was back then, and is still touted to be one of the greatest rom-coms of all time."
"Hmm, interesting. I can see how much you've grown to admire him-" He began, "but how does that play into what you wanna do?"
I contemplated my response for a second before speaking up, "I wanna be the next Charlie Chaplin. I wanna be the era defining genius that the counsellor touted me to be. I'm not going to settle for becoming the master of one trade, or even the jack of all. Nope-" I said, shaking my head slightly, as my conviction flowed through my words, "I want to be the master of all trades."
I slouch forward a little on my seat, maintaining eye contact, as I continue, "You're in Hollywood. You know the various ins and outs of the place. So, teach me. I won't just follow into your footsteps. I'll surpass you and every other film-maker in the world. I'll be the most influential figure in Hollywood by the time I'm done. In. Every. Major. Field." I enunciated, "Whether it's Writing, Directing, Producing, Editing, I don't care. I'll be the best in all of them."
My dad's face was, for the lack of a better word, exuding joy. "So, you wanna be a film maker?"
My face lights up with a grin, "Oh no. I wanna be the next Charlie Chaplin. I'll primarily be an Actor. I'll be winning awards left and right. But I'll make every movie I'll ever act in. So that my name will only be associated with utmost proficiency and distinction." I finished with a flourish.
My father was, well stunned. As in, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, hands frozen in mid-air. Huh, I didn't think this shit happened in real life as well. I've only seen people being comically stunned in movies and cartoons.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, I finally saw a hint of a reaction on pa's visage. Small things, like his jaw closing, his eyes blink rapidly in succession before settling at a consistent pace. He sighed before meeting my eyes.
And then…
He laughed. It started out slow, like all things do but quickly evolved into a series of guffaws. I waited patiently for him to finish.
He didn't.
Not for a few minutes at the very least. By the time he ended his little session, he was wiping tears out of his eyes with his kerchief. I was not concerned in the least, knowing his tears were not a sign of sadness.
[Name – Ambrose Stirling
Age – 53
Relationship Status – Father (locked)
Occupation: Film and Television Producer, Businessman
Affiliations: Stirling Star Productions, Clayton Studios, Producers Guild of America, Director's Guild of America
Citizenship: American/British
Emotional State: Proud, Jubilant, Satisfied]
"Ricky-" He started, with a slightly patronizing grin, "You have a good goal, you really do. And I as your father will do everything in my capacity to make sure you achieve it. Any help you need, any guidance necessary, you name it. You wanna make a name in Tinseltown? Well, you ain't gonna find a better starting point than me… Just make sure, you don't become too proud of yourself. I know you're a genius. It's a well-established fact really. But that don't mean no-one else can reach the same heights you can. You do whatever the hell you wanna do, just don't underestimate the rest of them." He concluded.
Well, I suppose that little tidbit was well overdue at this point. I still remember the parent teacher meetings, where tutors used to praise my educational level, but always without fail, criticized my lack of socializing and class participation.
I guess my father could see how I thought myself to be superior to them. In a way, it's kinda true. I mean, I am the gamer. They are just ordinary rabble. With time their skills will regress due to lack of practice or adherence to a certain discipline. Not me. Once I master something, the muscle memory won't ever go away.
But hey, maybe I can finally find my match in Hollywood? A place where the veracity of my success will be dependent on what other people think of my work.
"Thanks dad." I smiled wistfully.
He just smirked, "Well, that's enough for today. How about we continue this tomorrow?"
"Oh, yeah definitely." I acquiesced immediately, and shifted my focus to my scrumptious dinner… which had gotten cold by then.
Ah, screw it. Cold food is still food. It's not like, the flavors' gone or anything.
And with that line of thought, I dug in.
...
...
As I walked into my bedroom, my senses are all of a sudden assaulted by a series of pings.
Sometimes, I fucking hate the game.
PING! PING! PING!
[Host was on the crossroads of destiny and has opted for his upcoming trajectory. Vocation specialized stats have been unlocked.
Creativity(CRE) stat has been unlocked!
Technical Proficiency(TECH) stat has been unlocked!
Physical Fitness(FIT) stat has been unlocked!
Networking(NET) stat has been unlocked!
Stage Presence(PRE) stat has been unlocked!
Business Acumen(BIZ) stat has been unlocked!]
… Bloody fucking hell. Well now, this changes things quite a bit now, doesn't it? Well, as Sherlock used to say –
PING!
I sigh as I click on the new notification. Man, I just can't seem to catch a break!
[The above stats possess a maximum limit of 100. Rest of your budding capabilities will be categorized as Specialized Skills]
I checked the notification bar for any further messages. After confirming that there were none, I sat down on the bed, and fell backwards, sinking in the comfort of my mattress.
Well I suppose I can say it now.
To quote the great Sherlock Holmes, the game is finally fucking afoot.
It took a while, but it seems I finally found some much-needed excitement in this otherwise dull life of mine.