[CELESTIAL STREAM – SIGNAL STABLE]
Entertainment Tier: Crimson
Observers: 5,230,118 and rising...
—Earth Channel #0001: Broadcasting Live
The camera pans over a city broken by time.
Buildings lean as if they are tired of being upright. Smoke rises slowly from faraway ruins. Roads appear like dry veins, dividing the land into areas of dead concrete and sickly green.
Above all, on a roof, is a man.
Boots hanging off the edge. A bolt-action sniper rifle is next to him, with rust and blood on the barrel.
A cigar is held in one hand. The second hand opens a system window.
[User: Aiden Trask]
Level: 55Kill Count: 1,029Subscribers: 5,230,118 (Tiered Deities, Demi-Entities, Unknowns)
Title: "The Last Laugh" [Legendary]
Stats:• Strength – 72• Agility – 80• Endurance – 76• Perception – 84• Charisma – 67• Intelligence – 71• Luck – 69 (Heh.)
Skills:• Sharpshooter [Level 4]• Stealth Tactics [Level 3]• Survival Instinct [Level 3]• Hand-to-Hand Combat [Level 3]• Improvised Engineering [Level 2]• Pain Resistance [Level 3]• Focus Mode [Level 4]• Trap Handling [Level 2]• Cold Weaponry [Level 3]• Mental Fortitude [Level 4]
…and 16 others.
He exhales a curl of smoke. Eyes dead, but focused.
Inside a hole in the center of the city square, the screams begin. They are not screams of terror. They are screams of desperation. The kind that exclaims, "I thought I had more time."
The crowd of survivors remains silent. No cry. No rage. Only stunned compliance.
A man is shoved into the pit.
Aiden watches without blinking. The infected swarm him in seconds—limbs pulled, torso cracked open like a failed science project.
[Penalty Executed: Failure to Entertain]
Viewer Sentiment: Satisfied
+13,900 Smile Points Awarded to Host Stream
Aiden mutters, voice dry and razor-edged.
"Heh. All that suffering... and he didn't even get to play that damn open-world crime game they teased back in 2032.""Guess the gods aren't into preorders."
He reclines and allows the wind to dishevel his short hair. He gazes at the sky where the ancient satellites once were. Now they only display the sorrow of Earth for gods and monsters to see like it's a terrible Netflix reboot.
Aiden smiles softly to himself. Not for laughter. Just because there is nothing left to be sad about.
"Folks believe the world is ending in 2033. Wrong.".
The world started ending the day those celestial leeches found our signal. And we—morons that we were—fed them everything."
Flashbacks flicker like war footage:
—Flames across city blocks.
People are dancing and bleeding under electronic billboards that display "Entertain or Die."
—Infected squads released into civilian shelters.
—Gods laughing, betting, commenting.
Aiden was a soldier at that time. Special Forces. Six years in black ops. Two years observing command disintegrate.
A decade of living through what followed.
He ashes the cigar on the edge of the brick.
"Lost my squad. Lost my family. Lost my shot at a normal life."
"But look, 5 million subscribers."
[Top Comment – Celestial Audience]
"Show us something new. Something brutal."
He's been quiet today.
"Perhaps he's broken. Dull."
Aiden smiles.
"Boring? Oh dear."
He rises, stretches his neck, and takes his rifle.
"Let's give you a f*ing firework show.".
The system operates quietly.
[New Quest Unlocked: Sudden Hunt – Clear the Southern Tower Infestation in 10 Minutes]
Reward: 3,000 Smile Points + Random Tier Skill Chest
Viewer Bonus: Executions increase popularity ratings. Don't disappoint.
Aiden's gaze sharpens. He checks the scope.
In the distance: a collapsed high-rise, crawling with infected.
He takes the shot.
[Headshot – Critical]
+1,000 SP
[Viewer Sentiment: Elated]
The rifle kicks, and with it, the show begins.