A myriad of small lights rose and fell in waves on the transparent monitor. John nodded along to the rhythm of the bass guitar that strummed on heavily. His fingers tapped on the arm of his chair to the off beat style of the percussionist. They were good. A little too good. He sat forward in his chair and waved an outstretched hand just over the monitor. The waves of lights split apart into different groups divided by the instruments being used and the individual musician making use of them. Above each of these groups was a live feed of the musician's face as they played in the room just behind the glass. John ran his hands over the audio levels for the drummer and bassist turning them down but adding unique effects to their sound. Sitting back in his chair, he nodded sagely at his minor adjustment. This bassist and drummer worked well together. They went back and forth in this song, each one taking a turn at showing their talent while the other would fill in empty space in the music to accent changes in the other. They had spent time together writing this song and it showed. John's only concern was that these two were going to take all the attention away from the lead vocals and guitar. Not a huge issue, but it was best to display the talents of all the members even in a song that was made best by two. The final chord vibrated through his headphones, and as the music died his attention drifted. There was a new icon hanging in the air on the monitor. He tapped it briefly and opened the message, quickly looking over the contents. "Alright! I really think we're getting this whole studio recording thing down! When we first got in here it was our first time but it's hardly been a week and things are really... I don't know. Clicking! We almost got this entire song just right in a day. How did that sound to you John?"
John looked through the glass at the guitarist. He had only needed a moment to read the message on his monitor but in that time his attention completely left the group in his studio. His mind had gone else where and fast only to be pulled back to where he sat anchored in reality. "You're coming along great as a band, and I'll save this recording. But, I think it's time we took a break. Something's just... not right." Johns eyes darted briefly back to the message on his screen. It was time to use his archaic rock-guru lingo to get them out. "We're not vibing you know? You sound good, but there's just bad juju among you. Take the night off and maybe a few days if you need and figure out why you're not all present on the same plane." Collectively the band stared back at John with confusion. The lead singer was the first to turn his expression into dawning comprehension. "Alright, yeah we'll work on it. Come on guys we have to go exercise this juju. Some of us aren't giving it our all and we're not vibing like we used to. We'll go get some dinner and get us all back on the same plane. That should clear up this dissonance." John took off his glasses looking back through the glass. He played it off cool, but inside he was torn. His flimsy excuse had worked, but were these people really that gullible and ready to follow a red herring off on some sort of stoner rock and roll nonsense?
After walking them out of his studio, John stood and shook his head slowly. So stupid. So young. He couldn't help but marvel at their innocence. Their willing desire to believe there was something more to music that transcended to other planes of existence and other such nonsense. He turned on his heel and walked back to the elevator before stepping inside and pressing the appropriate button for his floor. As he rose, he thought back to his youth and times when he too had been so optimistic about music. One thought lead to another, and he soon thought of his first band which brought his mind back to the message that he had received on his monitor. It had read simply, "We've all got the game. I'm logging on now, and the others are on their way. Hurry up!" The elevator chimed softly and the door slid away. John strolled into his large loft apartment grabbing the essentials from the kitchen. A box of cookies, a bottle of cranberry juice and two bags of potato chips.
Making his way across the apartment, he opened the door and strode into his gaming room. In the center was a VR rig, a computer, and a simple sterile white bed. He booted up the machine, which hummed to life like the soft moan of someone rousing from a nap. He laid down on the bed and smiled, before putting on the equipment and laying on his back. "Log me in, Roger." His computer echoed about the room, "Confirmed. Would you also like me to notify your friends that you're arriving?" "Not just yet. I think I'll enjoy a little time coming to terms and conditions of the game on my own, but I'll definitely let you know when you can let them know." "Confirmed. Have a good time." The world around John melted backwards as he was sucked forward into a vacuum tunnel of lights. That quickly streamed by until he passed them into a black abyss. Then the character creation process began.
