The low gravity, a simulated 0.2 G, still felt unsettling after months of mining. Luke Rennelheart moved with practiced caution, each step a deliberate push against the weak gravitational pull. Years of playing zero-G sports in real-space arcades had given him a good sense of spatial awareness, but the altered physics within VGO took some getting used to. The auto-collection system, a recent upgrade he'd painstakingly saved for, hummed softly, a reassuring counterpoint to the drill's whine. It drew in the vaporized and fragmented ore, preventing it from drifting off into the void. Without this, I'd be chasing dust bunnies for days.He glanced towards his ship, a battered but functional Cobra-class light gunship. Its hull, a patchwork of reinforced alloys and hastily welded plates, reflected the dim light. It was tethered to the asteroid's surface by heavy-duty magnetic grapples and reinforced cables, the tethers vibrating slightly with the vibrations of the drill.
Every credit he'd ever earned, every hour of overtime he'd pulled in the real world, had gone into that ship. It represented freedom, a chance to escape the soul-crushing monotony of his old life. No regrets. It was his ticket in VGO, his path to something more.
Twenty-five years ago, the Xeltheris arrived. A crystalline hive-mind from a distant star system, they joined the Galactic Alliance, a loose confederation of interstellar civilizations. Humanity, still reeling from the economic and social upheavals of the early 21st century, cautiously extended an invitation. The Xeltheris, in their enigmatic way, offered two gifts: advanced space travel technology, jump drives capable of traversing vast interstellar distances, and access to VGO – the Virtual Galactic Online dimension.VGO wasn't just a game; it was a parallel reality, a digital space where the laws of physics could be bent and reshaped within certain parameters. It was a space where human ingenuity could flourish without the constraints of real-world resources or dangers.VGO operated on a unique import/export system. Players could design and create items in the real world and import them into VGO, where they could be used, traded, or sold. Conversely, in-game creations could be exported into the real world. A laser pistol designed and fabricated within VGO, for example, could become a fully functional firearm in reality.The system included a built-in compatibility checker. It flagged any incompatibilities between VGO and real-world physics, highlighting problem areas in red within the design interface. This allowed even novice users to create complex devices with a reasonable expectation of functionality. The Xeltheris, in partnership with global governments under the auspices of the UN VGO Oversight Committee, oversaw these transitions, charging a tiered fee based on the complexity and resource value of each imported or exported item. This revenue stream became a significant source of funding for various global initiatives.VGO's virtual currency, VC, had a fixed real-world exchange rate: 1 VC equaled US$25, established by international agreement. The in-game economy, however, was entirely player-driven, subject to the unpredictable forces of supply, demand, and even outright manipulation. The Xeltheris maintained a strict non-interference policy within the dimension itself, observing but never intervening. VGO had rapidly become a crucial component of the global economy, creating new industries and reshaping existing ones.Real-world needs still held sway. Starvation or death in reality meant permanent deletion of the player's VGO avatar. There was no respawn for that. One of VGO's unexpected social benefits was its impact on individuals struggling with addiction and homelessness. Within VGO, they respawned in perfect health, both physically and mentally. This translated to a restored physical and mental state in the real world upon logging out. This phenomenon led to government-sponsored programs that provided access to VGO for vulnerable populations, offering them a chance at a better life, even if only within the digital realm.Contracts were a fundamental aspect of VGO's social and economic structure. Lifetime contracts offered lower pay but bound players indefinitely. Even after respawning, they would be obligated to return to their contracted duties. This created a complex system of virtual indentured servitude, highlighting the importance of careful contract review.Player privacy was a cornerstone of the VGO system. Personal information remained strictly confidential, protected by robust encryption protocols. Players could create new characters, but their underlying human identity was always preserved. Cosmetic modifications like cybernetic enhancements, or even cosmetic changes like elven ears, were permitted, but the base human form remained. New characters could choose their starting location within designated human space, ranging from bustling orbital stations to remote frontier outposts.Guilds, powerful player organizations, had carved out territories within VGO, establishing their own rules and power structures. Corporations operated vast mining and manufacturing operations, while governments maintained their own sectors within VGO, conducting research and engaging in diplomatic interactions with other factions. The lack of real-world risk made VGO an ideal testing ground for experimental technologies and strategic simulations.
Luke checked his suit's internal monitors. Oxygen levels were at 22%, and his inventory was nearing maximum capacity. Time to wrap this up. He initiated the transfer sequence, robotic arms extending from his ship to collect the mined ore. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed in the confined space, a familiar sound he had come to associate with progress.Once the last fragment was transferred, Luke detached the mining drill from the asteroid face, securing it to his suit's magnetic hardpoint. He turned towards the airlock of his ship, the next step in his routine a familiar one: a long trip back to the orbital station, and the promise of a decent payout.
Luke noticed intermittent flashes of light in a nearby asteroid field. Through his EVO suit's comm system, tuned to the local frequency, he picked up the distinct sounds of a chase. Two blocky, modular ships, clearly built with function over form, were pursuing a sleeker, more streamlined vessel."All hail Clang! All hail our Omnissiah Clang!" one of the pursuing ships broadcasted, the message crackling with static."You guys are equally crazy as the Warhammer 40k stereotypes," the pursued pilot retorted, his voice strained.Luke shook his head. The former space engineers who played VGO had taken their in-game creations to an extreme. They'd formed a faction dedicated to the now-defunct physics engine bug known as "Clang," elevating it to the status of a deity. Even though the bug had been patched years ago, they still clung to their peculiar form of worship. It wasn't just the "Clangers," as they were colloquially known. Die-hard fans of the Warhammer 40k universe had also found a home in VGO. The opening of VGO's servers to Earth had been a dream come true for them, allowing them to enact their power fantasies in a virtual space. Halo fans, Star Wars enthusiasts, and countless other fandoms had also flocked to VGO, creating a diverse and often chaotic player base.VGO wasn't just about role-playing and virtual warfare. The platform also hosted real-world events and tournaments, transforming VGO into a global esports phenomenon. These events ranged from massive 100 vs 100 sword fights and small-scale tactical shooter competitions to complex spaceship battles and even virtual MMA and boxing matches. Anything imaginable could be simulated within VGO, making it a powerful educational tool for military training, engineering simulations, scientific research, and countless other applications.The largest human faction in VGO was the "Empire of Man," a direct adaptation from the Warhammer 40k universe. They had even recreated the iconic, if somewhat morbid, image of the Emperor: a suspended, decaying body kept alive by arcane technology. Rivaling them were the "Chaos Space Marine" factions, vying for control of various sectors. The primary difference between the in-game Empire of Man and its source material was the absence of the Chaos Gods. While there were in-game NPC factions resembling the Necrons, known as the "Automatons," they lacked the raw power of their Warhammer 40k counterparts. However, their sheer numbers and relentless advance often compensated for their lack of firepower.Luke reached his ship's airlock. The interior wasn't spacious, designed for single-pilot operation and cargo transport, but it was functional and, in its own way, beautiful. The soft glow of the control panels illuminated the compact space. Let's get the hell out of here before this turns into a full-blown warzone. He quickly deactivated the magnetic anchoring rods and the connecting cables retracted smoothly back into the ship's hull. The familiar rumble of the fusion engines as they spooled up was a welcome sound, accompanied by the soft hum of the ship's interface. "Let's go, baby. Still got some space in your storage," he muttered to himself, a small grin spreading across his face.With a gentle push, the ship disengaged from the asteroid, thrusters firing in a short burst. The ship accelerated smoothly, leaving the chaotic asteroid field behind. As he plotted a course back to the orbital station, Luke monitored the comm channels. The shouts and the sounds of weapons fire were fading into the distance. He had made the right choice.