Fog of War

In 2023 the Alphabet Group finished development on the first fully functional gaming A.I. They said it was developed with the intention of helping players discover and test new strategies. Upon release the A.I. systematically dismantled the top twelve players on StarCraft 3’s leaderboard. Shortly after it moved to MOBA style game DotA and secured a spot as one of the top twenty-five players in the world. Three months later it was joined by four more A.I. teammates and defeated the 2023 world championship team 3–1.

Viewers were in awe of its tactics. The days of watching boring, poorly balanced matches was over. Every tournament was a waterfall of knock down, drag out, games. The A.I. meta had become an ever evolving beast of strategy and upset, rocketing A.I. developers to stardom and raking in billions in profit. Since then, Major League Gaming has never been the same.

At first human players continued in a separate league, but as the A.I. MLG grew in tension and excitement, the human MLG grew stagnant. The limits of human reflexes and predictability became increasingly pronounced until eventually, only casual players directly interfaced with the game. The pros, the winners, developed A.I.

Which makes my match against Scipio, the #2 ranking A.I. for last year’s real time strategy game, Meteor Ascent, that much more unusual.

I’m sitting in an office building, 3 floors up, and about 3 blocks from sprawling suburbia. A few techs and engineers are setting up my computer, but other than them I’m alone; no audience, no teammates. There is evidence of cubicles impressed on the Berber carpeting and my desk is probably the remnant of some middle manager. I don’t know where I thought I’d be playing, but nowhere this anticlimactic.

The helmet on the desk reminds me of the old VR systems from the Gen IV console days. Glossy black plastic encases a delicate collection of hardware connected to a bulky wire kit, and strapped to the computer with a heavy duty pack of cables. It feels strange not to situate my hands on a keyboard before starting up the game, but they say I won’t need one; it’s all neural now.

It’s strange, I thought this set up would be heavier, but I hardly notice the system resting on my shoulders. Staring into the blackness I give a thumbs up and the system flickers to life. A bright green light scans my eyes, and I can feel several small pads press against the nape of my neck.

“Don’t worry”, someone says, “that’s normal.”

Oh good, at least whatever it did was normal. I feel better now.

A few more moments of silence pass as the pads apply varying degrees of pressure, then a small static shock to base of my skull. I jumped a little at that.

“Don’t worry, that’s normal.”

“Mmhmm”, I squeak out. Then a screen starts to flicker, “I can see something.”

“Mmhmm, good, that’s normal.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

As the screen clarifies and then fills in I see the massive Meteor Pillar in front of me and the cosmos, rushing passed, around me. “What do I do?” I ask.

“Just think about what you normally would do in this situation.”

I don’t even get to answer before suddenly I’m walking, jumping and moving around like a camera on a boom. I think I’m grinning. My mouth feels like it might be open.

“It must be working”, someone whispers. My mouth is definitely open.

“Alright, we’re going to engage the system’s sound. This is the last you will physically hear from us until after the match. Give a thumbs up when you’re ready.”

I give the signal and wait. There’s static, and then I can hear background music, sound effects, and then voice over. The roar of the meteor hurtling through space feels so close, and the music is impossibly clear. I look to my left and I see my minions spawning, jagged little creatures made of glowing stones. To my right construction has already begun on my mines and camps. The Fog of War ominously curls and twists at the boundaries of my field. Scipio is probably over there.

I’m practicing my movement, my spawns, my construction, but all of it already feels natural. The game responds to my actions so seamlessly that I can’t actively track my commands before they happen. As I give sway to the system I realize that I’ve found the perfect dance partner. It moves as I move, but entirely without the limits of my reflexes.

A ping interrupts my practice and a small message appears at the corner of my vision, “Invite from Scipio. Game type: Ascent — Classic.” A Classic Ascent is a great choice. It was the game type that put Meteor Ascent on the map. All I have to do is build my way to the top before Scipio. If I can it fend off and establish a steady climb speed then I should be able to reach the pillar’s peak first. Resources and construction are key to any successful climb focused strategy, so they’re first priority. I can’t know what Scipio is planning so I’ll balance offense and defense until it shows its plan.

The countdown timer’s ping is getting louder. I have heard this so many times I don’t even look at the timer.

Five.

Four.

Three.

“Here we go.”

Two.

One.

I’m screaming through space. I see Scipio’s construct just a second before it disappears into a cloud of dust as it enters into the fog of war, and my vision is blurred for just a second as I land at the foot of the pillar in a cloud of dust. Immediately, I start spawning mobs of builder type minions to start harvesting and storing up resources for the long climb ahead. Five minutes pass, my barricades are holding strong, and my construct’s stores are burgeoning with precious stones and raw metals. I recycle some of my harvester types and re-equip them with a guardian equipment set. Solid offense and defense, plus their harvester base class means they can climb without having to use a constructed path.

The first few minutes of my climb are uneventful. I’m about a third of the way up the pillar and my supply lines are providing a consistent IV of resources to my construct. From up here the massive veins I’ve created below look like cracks in a sidewalk. Just as I start to wonder what Scipio is planning my mini-map pings. There’s a rumbling about a 35 meter below me. I look down and see brief flashes of light as Scipio begins porting his units along the pillar. My guardians start climbing the sides of pillar towards the line of teleporters popping out of the side of pillar. I cut off his porting units mid stream and watch as his ravagers drop hundreds of meters into my mines.

Wait.

One of those units wasn’t a ravager. Damn. There is a massive explosion as Scipio ignites his immolationist in the gases of my mines. The flames blow my lower roads off the side of the pillar and snap my supply lines like a cheap rubber band. I’m reconverting my guardian’s back into harvesters and miners but, out of the fog I see a large, heavy path jutting out of the pillar. Scipio’s heavy units are waiting for me, and right behind them is Scipio, climbing a separate path back into the fog.

I only have half my guardians. They’re no match for heavies. My resources won’t last long enough for me to reach the peak. I’ll have to stop and wait for my reconverted guardians to spider climb some resources to me. If I stop I’ll lose. That’ll be game.

Fuck it.

All of my guardians are going to be converted to strikers — micro heavy, glass canon, quick porting S.O.B.’s. I start pouring all of my resources into driving everything left up the mountain, Something is different this time though. Everything is moving in unison. My strikers strikes and ports are fast and precise. We’re tearing through the front lines, I hit the Sciopio’s heavies with a revolving door door of strikers. The A.I. has taken notice of me now, and he’s spawning in more heavies with his porters, but he can’t keep up. I’m moving my troops in and out faster than it can respond. Its read of the situation is correct, but it can’t keep up with the neural links speed of play. It spawns left, but I’m already going right. I see the blockades go up, but I’m already past them. I’m almost out of resources to build more path. I’ll use Scipio’s. I charge up the path Scipio had been making and micro passed him. My strikers keep him stalled.

Suddenly, my controls go dead, and again, like a camera on a boom, I can see the entire pillar as my construct strides up to the center and strikes the ground, shattering everything we’ve built, and dropping Scipio to his doom.

I remove the helmet, the pads lift from my neck and retract into the machine. When I look up I see the techs and programmers staring. Their mouths are agape. The human won.