Marco sat in the sudden silence of his apartment. The disc was no longer in the tray. It was lying on the carpet, split cleanly down the middle. The USB stick was warm, too warm, and when he plugged it into his PC to format it, the drive showed zero bytes. But the name of the drive had changed.
His character—a Deprived he'd named "Truth"—spawned not in Things Betwixt, but in the very first cell of the game. The one with the dead ogre. But the ogre wasn't dead. It was kneeling, its face pressed against the bars, weeping soundlessly. A prompt appeared: "Offer a Fragment of Self to the Forgotten?" [Y/N] Marco, his throat dry, selected [Y].
The disc hadn't been inside its plastic case for years. Marco found it behind a broken fan, its surface a galaxy of micro-scratches. He didn't own an Xbox 360 anymore, not really. He owned this one. The one with the telltale pinhole scar near the power port, the one that hummed with a nervous, high-frequency whine when it booted. The JTAG/RGH console. The key to the cage. Dark Souls 2 Scholar of The First Sin -Jtag RGH-
He pressed Start.
He’d bought it from a guy named Silas in a parking lot. Silas had looked like a hollow himself—sunken cheeks, eyes that darted to unseen enemies. "It's not a console," Silas had whispered, handing over the beige monstrosity. "It's a seance. You can play the games that shouldn't be ." Marco sat in the sudden silence of his apartment
The screen went black. The Xbox 360's hum spiked into a shriek, then cut off. The power brick LED blinked from orange to red to off.
He used it.
"You are the First Sin. The one who loads a save state. The one who watches the credits and immediately asks, 'What now?' You are the reason the cycle never breaks."
"You wanted the Scholar," the knight continued, standing up. "You wanted the sin. Here it is. The sin isn't Gwyn's fear of dark. It isn't Aldia's curiosity. It's yours . The sin of the player who will not let a world end. Who digs through the code like a grave robber." The USB stick was warm, too warm, and
"You keep coming back," the knight said, his voice Marco's own, but warped. "But you never stay. You finish. You find the 'truth.' And then you delete the save. You mod. You break the world to find a new feeling. Do you think the worlds don't feel it? The jagged tear when you force a debug menu? The scream of a texture you've displaced?"
When the game booted, the title screen was wrong. The usual melancholic piano was gone. Instead, there was a low, sub-bass thrum, like a cathedral bell struck underwater. The fire wasn't orange. It was black, with a thin corona of sickly ultraviolet. The subtitle "Scholar of the First Sin" had been scratched out, and underneath, in a jagged, hand-drawn font, it read: