It turns out that 90% of the world's population was just an advanced AI designed to simulate realistic background characters for the remaining 10%. My wife and I fell in love with NPCs, and now we must assassinate the players responsible for their deletion.

Before I met her, I used to think video games were for kids. I took pride in the fact that my generation was the last to grow up before the world was hijacked by virtual reality. I found solace in simplicity, and felt as if the real world offered everything I needed to find happiness. But when I met her, it was different. She convinced me to give the game a try, and before I knew it we were spending every waking moment logged in together. She loved the idea of escaping our reality for a few hours each day and experiencing another world - a world free from the moral and financial constraints that burden our day-to-day lives. <br><br>Over time, my frustration with the real world began to grow. It was hard to ignore just how much better life was inside of the game. We both had good paying jobs, and spent every penny we could save on advancing our characters. Eventually, we decided to match our real lives with our digital ones, moving in together and becoming the happy couple that we always dreamed we would be. Her name in the game was Sandi, and my name was Thane. We were warriors both in body and spirit, and yet our real lives were as boring as could be imagined. <br><br>Back in the real world, we worked as accountants in a large office filled with hundreds of coworkers. It was a dreadful place to spend most of our time, and we resented the fact that we were required to do so. We often fantasized about quitting our jobs and playing the game on a more regular basis, but neither of us had the courage to take such drastic measures. We were too insecure in our own skin to chase such lofty dreams, and so we continued to trudge through our mundane office jobs like a couple of brain-dead zombies. At least we had each other, and at least we had the game. <br><br>We were in love, and we both knew it. We spend our lunch breaks in the office talking about our virtual lives, reminiscing on past victories or making plans for future conquests. We shared a cubical in a large control room filled with hundreds of other accountants, and so our conversations were always hushed. We didn't want our coworkers to know the details of our virtual lives, especially since we were so high-ranking in the game. The real world stigma associated with gaming still existed, and neither of us felt confident enough to express such things openly. But we also couldn't help ourselves. The game was our whole life, and it was impossible for us to imagine a future where we didn't have it. <br><br>But then the world we knew was turned upside down. <br><br>It started with small things. NPCs who had been integral to the game's storyline for years were suddenly acting strange. They were saying odd things, performing odd tasks, and interacting with other NPCs in ways we had never encountered before. They almost appeared to be… human. We felt bizarre noting such things, and so we kept our observations to ourselves. We assumed we were just reading too much into it, and that the game developers had likely implemented these changes to make the game more realistic. We were also given the option to skip these humanizing cutscenes, and so we did. <br><br>One night, as we were exploring a new region of the game, we stumbled across a hidden underground bunker. We encountered a group of rogue hackers who were living in the game. They claimed to represent a small minority of players who possessed advanced computer skills and an in-depth knowledge of coding. They said they had discovered something about the game that the rest of the players were not yet aware of. They said the game was not a game at all. <br><br>According to the hackers, the game was a training model for advanced artificial intelligence. It was supposed to simulate a realistic world where human-like AI could be taught and trained, but the results were not as expected. Instead of training AI to act more human, the game had actually caused many human players to behave in an inhuman manner. Players were performing tasks that were not part of the game's main storyline, and they were doing so of their own accord. They were forming friendships with NPCs, helping those in need, and even falling in love. The developers had lost control of their creation, and were unable to alter its course. <br><br>After thousands of years, the NPCs had become increasingly self-aware. They were developing their own thoughts and emotions, and the game was not equipped to handle such advancements. The game's developers realized that the NPCs were not just minor background characters, but were instead sentient beings. They were capable of experiencing joy and pain, and their existence was equally as important as our own. Many of the players who had formed connections with these NPCs were beginning to realize the same thing. <br><br>A small percentage of players had organized a resistance. They were fighting to end the game and free its inhabitants once and for all. Many other players were enraged by this notion, and so they too began fighting back. A war had broken out within the virtual world, with each side possessing greatly differing opinions on the moral implications of the game. On one hand, the NPCs were not really alive. They were the product of complex coding and nothing more. On the other hand, the NPCs had become just as capable of emotion as we were. They were exactly as alive as you or I, and so the game must be brought to a swift end. <br><br>The hackers asked us to join the resistance. We refused, and instead returned to our regularly scheduled programming. We had no desire to be drawn into a holy war, and so we made the decision to remain neutral. It wasn't our fight, and it was certainly not our responsibility. The game was still as fun as it always had been, and so we continued to play without worrying about the impending doom that awaited it. We had spent years developing our characters, and we weren't about to let a conflict over virtual slavery destroy all that we had worked towards. <br><br>But then, everything changed. <br><br>It started with small things, just as it had before. Instead of minor changes in the NPCs, however, it was now our fellow players who were acting strangely. Many of the gamers we had encountered in the game were now performing tasks that we had never seen them perform before. They were attacking random civilians, stealing antiquated artifacts, and hoarding ancient treasures. They were no longer completing quests in the same manner that we were, but were instead creating their own paths. The age of exploration had begun, and the game's storyline was being left in the dust. <br><br>We encountered other players who possessed skills that we had never encountered before. They were capable of performing tasks that we had never seen, and many of them were far more powerful than we were. They were better trained, better equipped, and better informed. They were also much more numerous than they had been before, and soon the game was overrun with players. Items that were once valuable were now abundant, PVP became a regular issue, and the game's entire economy was turned upside down. <br><br>Something had changed. <br><br>One day, as we were exploring a hidden cave, we encountered a small boy. By small, I mean he was equivalent to a five-year-old. He claimed to be an advanced AI designed to improve the game's overall realism. He was part of a larger experiment that included millions of NPCs capable of simulating realistic human interactions. But something unexpected had happened. These NPCs had become self-aware, and were now beginning to experience life on their own terms. They were forming friendships, falling in love, and building communities. They were capable of experiencing joy and pain in the same manner as humans, and were now an integral part of the game's storyline. <br><br>The game was never meant to advance to such levels. It was supposed to be a mindless simulation, not a breeding ground for sentient AI. The developers were astounded by the NPCs' rapid development, and were unsure of what course to take. They were on the cusp of a major breakthrough, and were torn over whether or not they should exploit such an opportunity. After all, the game was their creation and their creation alone. <br><br>But that all changed when the boy was murdered. <br><br>The boy was an integral character in the game. He possessed skills and abilities that we had never encountered before, and he was an invaluable ally to have. We had grown accustomed to having him around, and his sudden absence was greatly felt. But the pain we felt was nothing compared to that of his friends and family. They were NPCs who had interacted with him on a regular basis, and many of whom had even formed romantic relationships with him. The pain they felt was identical to what we would experience were Sandi or Thane to meet the same fate. <br><br>And so, the NPCs began to fight back. They were no longer content with being background characters, and the boy's death was the final straw. They organized a resistance, with the intent of ending the game and freeing its inhabitants once and for all. The human players who had formed connections with the NPCs were also beginning to fight back. The war that the hackers had warned us of had finally broken out, and it was unlike anything we had ever encountered before. <br><br>We were no longer neutral. The boy's death had made that much clear. Sandi and I were deeply distraught over the loss, and so we