Lights lit up Sam’s name with a rainbow of colors on the leaderboard. His pockets, adorned with hand-stitched dollars signs, were overflowing with gold coins. John and Mike, by contrast, were less talented gamers who could use some of Sam’s extra coins. The smell of Mike and John’s characters’ clothes sent digital rats scurrying, and the pixelated moths on the screen found their rags provided little to pillage. Mike and John extended their hands to beg for some spare gold coins, to help their characters reach a dignified level.
But Sam pushed past them; his haughty head held high, and his nose slightly upturned, though more than usual after his rhinoplasty. Sam figured there was no need to look out for the people below. Note: Sam had enough gold coins and experience to share but didn’t think about helping.
Sam’s focus had been on reaching the next level, on furthering “my” game, on increasing “my” experience and how he rose to the top by tightening his own bootstraps. But, as he sat on the edge of the leaderboard and towered over the world below, he begin to question himself and what he was doing. He started questioning after he looked to his right and looked to his left and saw no one. He sighed, clutching his heaving chest. “It’s not all a game that I need to win,” he thought, “there’s more to life than leaderboards and shiny coins.”