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Crowley had an interest in computer games.
He remembered when the first arcade machines appeared in Highgate. The boxy inventions would replace the pinball machines in pubs. And then there were whole buildings dedicated to the things.
Arcades weren't Crowley's idea, but the coin slots were a good source for the sin of Avarice.[1]
Then computer games started appearing. Crowley first noticed them as compact discs that came free in packets of Weetabix at Marks and Spencers. He bought them, and--realising he needed a computer for them to work--bought one of those as well.
Crowley learnt that there were all sorts of computer games. Ones that let you play as James Bond. Ones about starships that suffered from Spontaneous Massive Existence Failure (SMEF). And ones about wizards named Rincewind.
It was then that Crowley decided that he was the sort of person--or at least, the sort of human he strived to be--who liked computer games.
And then the World Wide Web came about.
Crowley liked Googling himself. He liked it so much that he invented the concept of Googling oneself.
Crowley would search for other things online, and it was during one of those rabbit holes that he discovered Beat Saber.
For those who are unfamiliar with Beat Saber, we will pause the narrative to elaborate...
Beat Saber is a rhythm game for virtual reality headsets, where the player is given two swords made out of light to slash through floating cubes that appear in time with the music.
The goal was to fill up the Combo meter displayed on the left of the screen by missing as few targets as possible. Preferably nil.
Imagine a black void of outer space. Vast and star-filled and lit with sparks of red and blue.
That is Beat Saber.
Crowley saw someone mention it online, wondered what all the fuss was about, found a video of someone playing it, and decided it was the sort of fun he wanted to be a part of.
* * *
Crowley took a step back to admire his work. He had finished setting up the equipment.[2] The camera tripods stood neatly next to each side of his flat screen television and the neon lettering of the words "Beat Saber" glowed in red and blue on the screen.
He noted that he would need more room to play the game. Crowley gestured with his hand and the coffee table walked to the kitchen.
He immediately liked the feel of using the plastic controllers to point at things on the screen. Pointing and gesturing was his thing after all.
He looked at the options menu.
Hullo, thought Crowley. This can be played by two people.
* * *
Aziraphale and Crowley liked watching films together. They'd either watch it at the pictures (or "the movie theatre" as it would later be more commonly called), or on Crowley's fancy big screen television set, or Aziraphale would pull out the old-but-reliable telly he kept in the back of his bookshop.
They'd sit together and watch a film. It may have had demons and angels in it. It might not. And if they were watching it in private, Aziraphale and Crowley would pause it to laugh at a thing that 6000-year-old beings would find particularly funny[3] because they had been there when that historic period drama took place.
They had learnt a lot of pop culture from this, including 1976's The Omen, which would eventually come to inspire Crowley's eleven-year plan that would end in disaster.[4]
He was never able to convince Aziraphale to try video games. The angel's computer was used solely for taxes. The only reason why Aziraphale hadn't ever wondered if video games really were hurting the book industry or not was because video games had completely passed him by.
Crowley prepared himself to call. He needed to think up a strategy. Invite him over to try it out, he thought. He had to convince the angel that it would be an enjoyable experience. He had to sell it as if not playing it would be missing out.
One had to wonder why Crowley wished to put so much effort into it. Madness, not to put too fine a point on it, seemed the only explanation for pursuing such a project. Even if he succeeded, what would the harvest be? The angel discovering rhythm games? Despite what some would write, video games were not particularly demonic. The endeavour seemed quite pointless even by coin-gluing standards.[5]
Crowley looked at his sunglasses collection[6] and took a moment, wondering which one to wear for today. He opted for the John Lennon teashades.
He pulled out his mobile and pressed the Call button.
There was a short ring.
"Hello?" said the familiar voice.
Crowley took a breath. There was a pause.
"Fancy a drink with me, angel?"
Oh well.
* * *
Alcohol is a wondrous social lubricant.
Were it not for the discovery of the grape and the grain, certain questions would go unasked. And honest answers to those questions would never be uttered. Drunk dialling would be a thing of the past. Proposals would be a distant memory. Loose lips would never sink ships...
The same could be said about Heaven and Hell's two foot soldiers.
"That was a very nice Chateau Lafo-Chateau Lafr-That was a very nice wine." said Aziraphale. He was sitting comfortably on Crowley's white sofa, the glass still in his hand. "Thank you."
"I get these good ideas," oozed Crowley next to him. "For instance. Beat Saber. We ought to play it together!"
He hadn't meant for it to be introduced so suddenly into the conversation. The trick with tempting someone, Crowley had learnt, was to slip it into the conversation subtly.
"What was that?"
"Beat Saber," said Crowley, realising he couldn't back out of it now. "And it's'a video game."
"Oh right. You've told me about video games before."
Darn it. "This one's different! It's a VR!"
"VR? What'sit stand for?"
"It stands for... It stands for... I forget, but it's fine. This game is new. Came out jus' this year. Beat Saber. We should to play it. Right now."
Aziraphale pondered for a moment. "A sabre's a type of sword, isn't it?"
"It's a game."
"It's a sword."
"Whatever," said Crowley, waving his free hand. "Thing is, whatever it is, it's a game too."
"Oh."
"Right. It's a game where music plays and you wait for floating cubes to appear--"
"Floating cubes? I don't--"
"--And you slice through them." said Crowley, swiping his arm that was holding his empty glass.
"Why d'you slice through them?"
"It's the game. It's all partofthegame." slurred Crowley. He was starting to get exasperated.
Aziraphale looked down into the empty wine glass in his hand. "Well, alright. I'll try it."
"Brilliant!" Crowley got up. "You'll, uh, probably want to sober up for this."
The two of them lost the ruddy colour from their cheeks as the effects of the wine disappeared from their bloodstreams. The warm, glowy sensation of swimming also left them. The glasses disappeared from their hands.
"It'll be great." said Crowley.
Aziraphale stood up. Crowley was distressed to see a look of concern on the angel's face. Perhaps sobering up completely was not the best idea.
"I... don't think this is my... area..."
Crowley tried to sound casual. "That's what you said about computers. And typewriters. And the printing press, when it first came about. This is simply the next step."
"If you say so."
"I do." He nudged the angel lightly. "Trust me, you'll enjoy it."
Crowley pointed to the large flat screen TV across from them. It came to life.
"You just need to dance to the music a little. You can dance, right?"
Aziraphale did not roll his eyes, but it could still be heard in his voice. "My dear boy, I know--"
"Besides the gavotte, angel."
"Of course I know more than the gavotte!" lied Aziraphale.
Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. "I'll show you how it's done. Then we'll do the next song together."
* * *
I see a little silhouetto of a man, sang Freddie Mercury from the unmentionably-priced speakers.
Crowley played the game as Aziraphale watched from the side.
Crowley glanced at him every so often to check for a response. Hm. Aziraphale did not look apathetic. Nor irked. It was more of an observing look of curiosity.
Well. That was promising.
Crowley straightened his posture and tried not to flail his arms too much. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
The controller in Crowley's hand was shaped like a sword handle that had had the blade removed and a plastic white ball substituted.
On the screen, it resembled a lightsaber from a series of highly successful science fiction films that involved magicians wearing light-coloured dressing gowns and robots shaped like rubbish bins.
"So it moves when you move?" observed Aziraphale.
"Exactly. Amazing what humans can do with technology."
Crowley raised an arm to swing and missed.
"Just a mis-time. No worries."
Aziraphale nodded politely as Crowley tried to find the rhythm again.
The music slowed down.
Nothing really matters...
"I remember this from the Bentley..." said Aziraphale.
The song ended and the screen transitioned to an assessment of Crowley's effort.
Crowley put lowered his arms, trying not to look knackered. His hands felt like they had lead weights attached.
The Combo meter read 12.
"Jolly good!" said Aziraphale, his hands clasped together with enthusiasm. "Let me have a go."
Crowley tipped his head with the confidence of one who believes they have done a great job of showing off.
But the truth was, Hell did not have the best choreographers.[8]
"Here," said Crowley, handing Aziraphale one of the controllers. "You can be blue. I'll be red."
* * *
'Cause love's such an old fashioned word...
Aziraphale stood next the Crowley. A controller in the angel's left hand. A controller in the demon's right hand.
Crowley expected that, like many things in this world, learning how to play Beat Saber would be a process that would take Aziraphale some time. At the very least, he would need about as much practice time as Crowley had had to get to the level he was currently at.
Crowley was in fact wrong.
Because Aziraphale turned out to be very, very good at it. He was very good at holding a controller like a sword and using it to hit a target.[9]
"It's like riding a penny-farthing. You never forget." said Aziraphale.
Crowley hummed in agreement.
This is our last dance. This is our last dance. This is ourselves.
The song came to an end and the two of them took a moment to breathe after the workout.
The Combo meter read 668.
Crowley frowned. "Not bad."
Aziraphale beamed.
* * *
Another song played over the sound system.
Oooh. You make me live. Whatever this world can give to me.
The angel and demon were into it now. Their movements in sync.[12]
"This is fun." said Aziraphale, his voice filled with warmth.
"Yeah."
They continued in silence, with the music filling the space.
The angel frowned. "Why did you ask me to play this? You're not going to tell me this was invented by your people, are you?"
"No," said Crowley with disdain. "You're thinking of television. This wasn't Heaven or Hell. This was human."
I've been with you such a long time...
"Then... why are we doing this?"
"Uh, well. I mean, logically, if we're here together, then," Crowley paused to make a particularly dramatic swing. "Then we're technically stopping each other from doing Good and Evil, respectively. So we're doing our jobs."
"Ah. Right." said Aziraphale.
"Exactly."
"Yes. Quite."
"Absolutely."
"Jolly good."
"Precisely."
"Yes."
That my feelings are true. I really looooov--CRACK...
Aziraphale had sliced through the flat screen TV.
It was a clean cut, like a lightsaber through butter. The weapon was left embed into the cupboard the the television rested on. Some sparks flew up but failed to ignite upon landing. The screen harshly flickered black and blue.
"Game over," said Crowley flatly. It was a terrible joke, but he couldn't resist.
Aziraphale looked at the murdered television. "Oh dear..."
The demon shrugged. "Nevermind," he said, trying to hide that he was secretly relieved. While he liked playing with Aziraphale, he didn't like the prospect of losing to him.
The screen would be fixed. And the two would watch a James Bond film.
* * *