As you perused his vast collection of costumes, one in particular caught your eye, haphazardly wedged in between a giraffe and a cowboy get-up. It was a strange, metallic armor-like ensemble, a hodgepodge of plate greaves, gauntlets, and a chest plate, all made of printed cloth.. The design was a curious mix of futuristic and medieval, bearing a broad resemblance to the power suits from that science fiction game you used to play.
You took the costume in your hands. It felt cheap, too cheap for an armor, but the intricate printed details piqued your interest.
After changing into the costume in a musty dressing booth, padded boots hanging off like clown shoes while the chest plate hung down your torso like an oversized tee, you found that it fit perfectly. But nothing felt out of the ordinary.
You climbed up the old wooden stairs to the living area above where Uncle Jack sat at the dinner table, chuckling.
"By the illusions of Merlin, you look hilarious!" He burst into a deep belly laugh, almost choking on his soup.
Still, something about his laughter nagged at you. It seemed... anticipatory. "It's just a costume wasn't it?" you retorted, rolling your eyes and joining him in his laughter nonetheless.
"We'll see, John. More soup?" Uncle Jack knew something you didn't, grinning at you as if he was keeping a secret.
Dinner passed mostly in silence, with Uncle Jack seemingly unable to stop himself from laughing at your outfit. As far as you were concerned, it was just a cool, but ultimately silly costume.
As you sat across from Uncle Jack, sharing an otherwise mundane dinner, there was something unusual brewing under the table - quite literally.
There was a faint itching sensation that started at the sole of your feet. It felt as though you'd stepped on grains of sand. You rose from the chair, shaking your leg discreetly, trying to remove the uncomfortable feeling. As you did, the soup spoon clattered loudly on the plate, immediately catching Uncle Jack's attention.
"Are you alright, John?" Uncle Jack asked, trying hard to suppress a grin.
"It's just.... my feet. They feel weird, like...itchy." You replied, uncertainly.
Uncle Jack was fighting a losing battle against a snicker. "Well, that's the starting, John. The magic, the real one."
Beneath the table where the sight was hidden from both of you, the itching feet was more than just an irritation. The fabric underfoot began to morph, absorbing into itself and your feet. The soles felt increasingly firm, patterning and thickening as though you were standing on a cobblestone path. It crept upwards, moving past the ankles, transforming the feeble cloth into a fitting embrace. The fabric shifted, the details of the armor coming to sharp life, mimicking the shape and luster of authentic armor.
You gasped at the sudden tightness gripping your lower legs, electricity coursing up your calves as though they’d been encased in an iron grip. Pulling up the cloth of your pants, you nearly dropped your spoon a second time. You stared in disbelief at your legs, now encased in the stunningly detailed, metallic boots of the armor.
"Wha- What's happening, Uncle Jack?!" You stuttered in astonishment.
"Well, John! That's the magic!" Uncle Jack replied triumphantly, leaning back and gazing at you with irrepressible mirth sparkling in his eyes.
Uncle Jack was watching you like a cat observing a mouse, a knowing smile teasing the corner of his mouth. You felt the knot of your worry clash against the sway of his casual confidence. You winced as the transformation continued upwards, the sensation uncomfortable but far from painful.
The chill of the boots never really abated, even as the tingling sensation seeped into your knees. It was akin to the icy cold embrace of a metal door handle in winter. With an audible pop, your knees were suddenly reinforced with another layer of armor, almost like knee pads, yet fitted perfectly to your form. A pivot joint beneath the rubber layer moved in sync with your knees, agile despite the cold rigidity of the armor.
Your eyes widened at the sight. Breathlessly you reached out, tracing your fingers over the sleek surface, still feeling chill against your fingertips. The metallic armor was surprisingly responsive to touch, as if your skin interpreted the rigid substance into an almost normal sensation beneath the contact. They weren’t just cold, metal shells, but a second skin.
Strangely, you could feel your own touch on the armor despite the thick layer of metal-like substance covering you. It was as if the nerves were seamlessly integrated into the new armor-like skin, merging your senses with what should have been an inanimate object.
The armor now engulfed whole of your thighs; the same icy armor replacing the fabric of your shorts, forming a metallic second skin.
"Un- Uncle Jack!" Your voice trembled with anxiety and wonder as you managed to stutter out. "I can feel... I can feel the armor."
"Of course, you can! You think I'd let my costumes be some kind of cheap tin cans?" he chortled.
But you were far too astonished to appreciate his humor. You looked down at your new armor-encased legs and couldn't help but marvel at the surreal phenomenon.
You can't help but admit that the transformation of your legs into armor wasn't just strange and intimidating, but also kind of cool. You can't help but feel a little more powerful, standing taller in the heavy boots than you did in your sneakers earlier.
The sensation was creeping upward now, and that's when the nerves really kicked in. Your stares darted toward Uncle Jack nervously, who shot you back a reassuring thumbs-up. The changes progressed, contouring your lower abdomen and private area - a sensation so strange it made you involuntarily suck in your breath.
"It's okay, lad. All the essentials are secure and snug," Jack called out, sensing your discomfort.
An additional plate of armor, more solid and cold swept over your privates providing that extra degree of protection. The suit was leaving nothing to chance, it seemed. Meanwhile, your belly hardened as another panel of armor formed. The change transformed everything that was supposed to move into a flexible, thick rubber material, and left the rest as solid plates of armor. It was like being fitted into an indestructible exoskeleton.
As the transformation crisscrossed up your body, the armor started taking on a monochromatic aesthetic. The cheap fabric of the costume was replaced with dull, military shades of green, an echo of the futuristic game armor you'd originally associated with the costume. The green remarkably similar to that of your favorite game character; faded and weather-beaten.
"Uncle Jack," you gasped. "This...This feels...real?"
He smirked, whiskers bristling, eyes filled with mirth. "That's my boy. That's the magic working its way. Feeling heroic yet?"
You struggled to find the right words, to tell him how unreal yet exhilarating this was. How... strangely transformative. But the words evaded you as you moved, feeling the sleek armor shift with your movements. The disbelief was reluctantly starting to ebb, replaced instead with the dawning realization of having become something - else.
As Uncle Jack watched your transformation unfold, an uncanny sense of satisfaction washed over him. The changes were now progressing up your torso and spine, curling around your chest and back like a customized carapace. As you felt your torso and back harden, the lightness of being had now given way to a palpable sense of heft. The armor was now a part of you, a weighty, bulky second skin.
Everything now was plate or rubber. You looked down to see the rest of your body transformed into a baffling real-life version of digital body armor. Your arms were also steadily transforming, the rubber veins spreading their reach, twining around your muscles like vines. As the armor bulked, you noticed that they felt hefty but not clumsy.
"Feel heavy?" Jack casually asked.
"A bit," you admitted. "But I can move them just fine."
"Good! The suit is made to adapt!" He grinned.
With a swift inhale, you flexed your muscular arms, the joints moving smoothly despite the armor's weight. The sudden burst of strength within the suit surprised you. "Wow, Uncle Jack. This... is something else."
His eyes shone with gratification, a master craftsman beholding his creation. "It's not one of my best, but it surely does the job," he confessed with a shrug.
Then came the moment of truth; the transformation finally reached your neck and head, homing in on your scalp and face. The process paused, leaving your bare head looking comically small on your bulky, larger-than-life armored body.
Jack laughed, "Wait till you see the full ensemble. It's an experience!" You eyed him, still in awe of your transforming body, wondering how much more 'experiencing' you could undertake at this point.
You took a moment to scrutinize your arms closely, marveling at the precision of the transformation. Your once ordinary arms now hooded in military-grade armor. Your fingers were encased in gauntlet-like structures, each digit separated by a thick rubber joint, keeping the movement flexible. The angular segments of the forearm armor were interrupted sporadically by patches of thick rubber, built for protection but maintaining mobility.
Your palms turned inwards and you studied them, noticing the level of detailing on the armor. The touch was cold and ethereal, and you instinctively clenched your hand into a fist, the rubberized joints flexing responsively. A new confidence was seeping into you, powered by the awe-struck realization that this wasn't a joke. This was real.
You took a deep breath, now feeling the chilling stainless steel-like texture of the chest plate against your heaving chest. There was one final piece to the puzzle: the hoodie. Grabbing the fabric hood of the costume that was still soft to touch, you pulled it up and tucked it over your head. It was like wearing a low-tech helmet, obscuring a peripheral portion of your vision.
In the blink of an eye, the transformation completed. The hood solidified into a robust helmet, interlocking plates around your skull and jawline giving an added degree of protection. An in-built, translucent visor appeared enabling you to see the world in a new light. It felt as if you were viewing through the lens of a high-tech gadget, the ordinary world now laced with a strategic edge.
But the real surprise was when your face changed. It wasn't painful, just a sense of stretching, a bit like someone was pulling at your skin. Your facial structure altered, your features becoming more mature, your frame becoming more solid. Miraculously, even your voice deepened, your usually high pitched chatter now far more commanding and gruff in tone. Your mind too subtly shifted, adapting to the body's changes.
"What the..." you started, but your voice sounded different, more authoritative. It was a soldier's voice. As if on cue, you found yourself standing straighter, a rigid discipline in your stance. Your words, even your behavior and habits, started aligning with that of a seasoned veteran. It felt natural, a strange sense of rightness to the situation.
"Yes! That's the spirit," Uncle Jack laughs, "Feel the power, the discipline!"
Your heart was beating a mile a minute. "This... is incredible," you admitted.
But Jack just nodded, as if he'd been expecting nothing less. "Welcome aboard, soldier!" he declared, beaming at you. "Ready to save the world?"
Strangely, for the first time in your life, your answer wasn't just a 'yes'. It was a resolute, "Affirmative."
The transformation might've been astounding but reality sunk in fairly quickly. The two of you were in Uncle Jack's apartment above the costume shop, in a not-so-dangerous town. You found yourself encased in an elaborate suit of futuristic armor, on a simple dining table. No pressing emergencies, no imminent danger.
"Well," you began, the tone of your voice reflecting the oddity of the situation, "not quite what I'd planned for a Friday night."
Jack chuckled, observing the somewhat out-of-place figure you've become, "Not everyday you become a high-tech super soldier."
"True," you admitted, carefully scaling your new armored form. "But it’s kind of ironic, isn't it?”
Jack raised a question mark with his brows, his eyes twinkling - a silent invitation for you to continue.
"I mean, look at me," you stated, gesturing to the green armor that encased you. "I'm fitted in a suit that's designed to survive hostile conditions... and here we are, just having finished dinner a while ago. No aliens to fight. No wars to win."
"But everyday's a war,” Jack winked, “Even the mundane ones."
You laughed, moving your arm, the joints moving effortlessly beneath the layers of armor, "But outside of the game, this armor is like an elephant in the room, not really cost-effective.”
He smirked, a curious glint in his eyes. "Perhaps. Or, think of it as an emergency readiness exercise. Never know when you’ll need a bit of magic in your life, after all."
You rolled your eyes, yet couldn’t suppress a small smile. Despite the oddity of it all, Uncle Jack was onto something. A strange freshness to life, an interesting detour to your monotonous day-to-day.
Uncle Jack was staring at you, a mixture of amusement and possibility in his eyes. "Well, if you're feeling out of place, how about this?” he suggested. "Why not dive into the game you were trying to mimic?"
Your eyes widened in surprise. But you quickly checked yourself. Could Jack be serious? Your glance shifted between the game on your laptop and your now armored body. The thought was bizarrely tempting.
You cleared your throat, your voice coming out far too severe for the situation, “You’re suggesting... I enter the game? Like, physically?”
The corners of Jack's eyes crinkled as he broke into a hearty laugh, “Why not? I mean, as a soldier, it's your duty to explore new horizons.”
"Oh, right," you retorted, "because it's just an everyday thing for soldiers to dive into video games physically."
But Jack only shrugged, undeterred by your sarcasm. You watched as he pulled a tattered notebook and a pen, quickly jotting down a few words. Only a flicker of hesitation played in your eyes. The transformed costume still felt too real against your skin to completely dismiss Jack's plan as a mere bluff.
“Stand by, soldier!” Jack ordered, but you could detect an excited note in his tone.
You fell into the stance instilled by the armor. Before you towered a familiar in-game screen. Your earlier question “What use is the suit here?” now seemed to be on the verge of receiving a startling answer.
"So... how long till the deployment?" you asked, or rather commanded in your new authoritative tone.
"Just a second," Uncle Jack grinned, eyes glazing over the scribbled words, "This spell takes a little adjusting. But we'll get you into the game, alright."
"Affirmative, Uncle Jack," you chimed in, making sure to keep up your soldierly act. The words felt alien yet right on your tongue.
"Heads up, soldier!" Uncle Jack exclaimed, handing you a crumpled piece of paper with some scribbled words. "Rerum nouus, Porta inter mundi."
The phrase was alien to you, their syllables like cryptic tongue-twisters. Still, you saluted, accepting the command.
With a heavy nod, Jack continued, "When I start the countdown, recite the incantation, alright?"
"Affirmative," you replied, your voice deep and commanding.
He took a deep breath, his grin clearly betraying his enjoyment of this endeavour. "3… 2… 1… Engage!" he bellowed.
You began reading the strange phrase. As you reached the last word, Jack hit the game's start button. The room suddenly spun around you. Your stomach lurched as the familiar start-up cutscene played, presenting you amidst a gathering of stern-looking interstellar military officers. Only this time, the scene wasn't on your laptop screen; you were part of it.
Baffled and awestruck, you stepped into the exposition. The room was large, typical of a high-ranking commander, decorated with holographic screens displaying complex graphs, star maps, and constantly updating data. The explicit touch of the virtual world was mesmerizing; the blend of advanced technology with a subtle twist of medieval architecture was arresting.
The officers around you continued to interact and deliver their dialogues, seemingly oblivious to your presence. As you sauntered around, their faces were familiar, being characters you interacted with multiple times in the game - only now they were real.
"Well, isn't this quite the spectacle?" You muttered to yourself in your gravelly Soldier voice.
The cutscene, which would normally be skipped, now became an opportunity to delve deeper into the fictional universe you were part of. This was still you, but functioning as a real-life soldier amidst the virtual world — the soldier you had mimicked so many times.
"Navigating the new terrain, soldier" you murmur, setting off to explore the space that once existed merely behind a screen.
The grand room was a fusion of old and new, with high ceilings accented by gothic arches interspersed with cutting-edge screens projecting real-time maps and analytics from different corners of the galaxy. The medieval stone walls, encrusted with lichen, were interspersed with luminescent light tubes, filling the room with an ethereal glow.
To the far end of the room, there were cabinets, every drawer designated for a particular officer. Approaching one of the cabinets belonging to a familiar character, you found it unlocked. Inside were perfect replicas of in-game tools: alien scanner devices, communication gadgets, even a microchip-encoded master key.
Curiously, you slid open another drawer. A bound leather journal — a logbook of sorts — caught your eye. Flipping it open, the handwritten notes mirrored the game's storyline — rendezvous coordinates, encrypted codes, and mission briefings. It was surreal. A line you authored in the game now stretched out on the parchment in front of you - the direct orders of a commanding officer, the plans for future battles - your battles.
Off to the side, there was an area demarcated for weapon storage. There were sleek long-range blasters, pulse rifles, and short-range plasma guns. The reality of their weight in your hand, the cold touch of their metallic bodies contrasting with the warm, aged wood of the weapons rack.
The room was virtually tethered into the game but had a physical existence of its own. You stood there for a moment, trying to take it all in, the real-life projection of the game at your fingertips — a surreal merger of realities. And you were no longer just a costume-wearing visitor. You became the explorative soldier, in full control of this unhinged course of adventure your uncle had drawn you into.
As the cutscene faded, you found yourself inside a troop transport vehicle, its mechanical hum lulling into familiarity. A non-player character sat in the pilot's seat, dressed in relatively lesser armor, their focus embedded in maneuvering the ride efficiently.
You shared the backspace with a few other armored soldiers, their suits nearly identical to yours, save for a few minor alterations and personalized color schemes. Hints of crimson, cobalt, and electric violet splashed across armor configurations similar to your own.
Those soldiers were not AI, but real players from around the globe, breathing life into their characters with their unique gameplay and commentary. They didn't have the freedom to break their character motions, their movements restricted to the pre-designated motion sets coded in the game. But they communicate freely, their voices buzzing through your headset.
"Alright, troops, are we ready to take on the enemy?" you asked, your profound voice bouncing around the vehicle. You enjoyed their startled pause before they found their collective voice.
"Damn right, soldier!" one of them responded.
"Who's looking forward to another winning streak?" you chimed in, riding the wave of their energized banter.
During your conversation about strategy and past maneuvers, you casually dropped the bomb, "You know, unlike most folks, I'm actually inside the game."
There was a moment before laughter burst through the headset, "Oh, really now? You got one of those fancy VR setups?"
"Nah fellas, he's literally in the game. Physically!" another player joined, good-natured mockery in his tone.
"Exactly, he dived right into the screen!" yet another player joined in, their collective laughter engulfing the headset, echoing in the transport.
The laughter was abruptly curtailed as the transport doors swooshed open, revealing the battleground. Your heart thrummed against your chest as the familiar mission start alert popped, the objective highlighting on your visor.
"There they are!" one of your comrades shouted. The enemies, a rogue alien faction, burst from their hiding spots, firing energy blasts indiscriminately.
"Roger that! Taking positions," you replied, assuming your role with a practiced ease only the real battlefield could have taught. Leaping out of the transport vehicle, you landed in a crouch, the plating of your suit absorbing the impact effortlessly.
"Try to flank them, Alpha team!" you barked, your voice resonating with authority as you determined the best strategy.
Your in-game comrades moved, but not quickly enough. An energy blast streaked towards one of them. You saw it in slow motion; your armour’s reflex-enhancing system kicking in.
"Delta, watch out!" you warned, but it was too late for them to move. You acted instinctively, pushing off your back foot to catapult across the battlefield, positioning yourself between Delta and the incoming projectile.
It collided with your armour, and you grunted at the impact but held your ground. The energy dispersed harmlessly around you, the well-designed suit dispersing the power of the blast.
"Thanks, soldier!" came the awed voice of Delta, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride.
When the echoes of gunfire and shouts had subsided, you found yourself in the silence of the game's splash screen. You huffed, the aftermath of the battle a mixture of adrenaline and victory. The immersion was impressive, but it sped up time like no other.
You books some peculiar snores though the open channel on the earpiece, sounds that you could only equate with one person — Uncle Jack.
"Uncle Jack!" you bellowed, your voice booming through the static.
A surprised snort was heard, and the voice on the other end stuttered awake, "Wait... I'm awake! What's the status, solider?"
"Mission completed, requesting extraction," you responded.
"Ah... right..." Uncle Jack mumbled, sounding groggy and minting in. You were soon standing in the familiar backdrop of your laptop's desktop screen, all familiar icons floating around and some neon-bright wallpaper softly glowing. A large window opened, replacing the splash screen's static image, the view from your laptop's webcam coming into focus.
"Uncle Jack, I meant..." You started, ready to clarify your previous instruction. But before you could finish the sentence, a series of loud snores affirmed that Uncle Jack had once again succumbed to sleep, effectively stranding you amid the digital wilderness of your own laptop screen.
You sighed heavily, rolling your eyes beneath the armor’s visor, "Great. Might as well explore the desktop till Mission Control wakes up", you muttered, taking in the strange sight of your virtual surroundings.