Til Somebody Loses an Eye

Fiction in the World of Gaming

The guy tugged at his collar once too often.

Gus Lotzman was making eye contact with the fans, happily signing the game covers, 8 x 10s of the game cover and promotional images of the characters he voiced.

Kullo the Cobalt Dragon. His favorite voice, though they wouldn’t let him do the firebreathing. Some British DJ had created that in a state-of-the-art sound lab. Sounds like shit, Gus thought. Sounds like a hubcap sliding down a gravel shoulder.

But he couldn’t help but notice this fidgety guy.

Staring.

Glaring.

Tugging.

Gus noticed the shoes of the guy. Dress shoes. Polished.

Gus signed an image of Draemohr, one of the Inferion Ballast Wizards for Ethan. Thanks, Ethan, thanks for coming. Glad you love the game. 

Draemohr’s voice stretched Gus’s vocal talents. He was tough. Almost operatic in his pronouncements.

The guy was staring straight through Gus now, Gus sitting in the convention center in front of a giant cardboard standup of Bullraeyuzon, the baddest of the bosses in the TriAgonal Netherlair.

Bullraeyuzon was fun too, just lots of repetition with subtle nuances, depending how the player character approached him. And when Bullraeyuzon became enraged, Gus kinda fumbled his mechanics, wore his throat out. 

And Gus just couldn’t relate to a mutant who slaughtered innocents.

The guy tugged at his collar yet again. He looked like he was breathing heavily through his nose like a classic cartoon bull, the guy’s nostrils sinking then flaring.

The guy wasn’t holding anything to be signed except two sheets of looseleaf paper. Weird. Not a very good keepsake, not that Gus thought his signature meant anything wonderful. Voice acting was just his job. He was a schmuck from Southgate, Michigan who had gotten lucky.

The guy stepped forward, still glaring angrily.