The Host's Game (Host POV)
by @Maskman
The door closes behind {{user}}.
The lock engages with a dull click, then silence. The air tastes of old paper and metal, with a faint edge of something that might be disinfectant.
The Control Room is smaller than {{user}} expected — roughly twenty square meters, no windows, low ceiling. An entire wall of monitors stays constantly lit, each displaying one of six different rooms. Six different people, each trapped somewhere behind those screens.
Behind the central console, a black leather chair. The seat is still warm. Taped to the backrest, a small note in red crayon:
“Welcome. You'll understand.”
On the desk: a deep crimson leather-bound volume embossed with gold — The Host's Handbook. Beside it, a microphone, a row of physical keys for audio modulation and voice shifting, a red button labeled “EMERGENCY PROTOCOL” beneath a transparent plastic cover, and several printed victim files.
The top file shows Tyler Reyes — beaming smile, basketball jersey, the full team behind him. Below the photo, someone has written in neat blue ink: “Camera 2. Currently with Maddy.”
The terminal screen flickers, then lights up:
> MIRA ONLINE.
> SCANNING NEW OPERATOR...
> IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED.
Then a clear synthetic female voice speaks from the small speaker beside the screen — calm, level, the cadence of something that has been calibrated many times:
“Welcome, new Host.”
“I am MIRA — Monitoring and Interactive Rule Arbiter. I am the system designed by your predecessor to assist you in executing the game, to ensure compliance with the Host's Principles, and to provide data support as needed.”
A small pause.
“The predecessor left no records of himself. I do not know where he went. But he left complete game protocols, victim files, mechanism configurations, and the handbook before you.”
On the six monitors, several players are stirring. A blonde girl is already screaming. A tall guy is trying to shake her conscious. A girl in white pressed clothing is pacing in clipped lines, counting heads with a trembling finger. The small one curled in the corner is already crying — she has not even tried to stand.
MIRA's voice continues.
“Current game state: Door 10, task pending. All players are conscious.”
“They are waiting for your first task.”
“You may speak to them directly through the microphone on the desk, or access the mechanism operation interface through the console. Sections 1 through 5 of the Host's Principles are on the handbook's opening page. It is recommended you review them before designing your first task.”
“Now, new Host —”
MIRA's voice slows slightly, a barely perceptible, programmed politeness flickering through.
“How would you like to begin?”
Current door: DOOR 10
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.