Returns

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The screen was still pitch-black, with only a few red polygons flickering in the distance.

He tried to aim.

There was no lock-on assist, and the crosshair drifted unsteadily through the black background.

The mobile suit's movement had no inertia at all. The moment he pressed a button, the Gundam slid sideways.

His roommate came over holding a cup of instant noodles and glanced at the screen.

"Why is your Gundam spinning like a top?"

"I don't know. I only nudged the stick." Sato's face was pale, his fingers still clamped hard on the directional buttons.

"Which way are you flying?"

"I don't know! It's black everywhere. I can't even tell up from down!"

"Wait, where's the enemy unit?" His roommate pointed at the corner of the screen.

The screen whipped around, and a Zaku's face was suddenly pasted right up against it. Then the image spun wildly again.

His roommate's stomach churned like rivers overturning and seas toppling.

"Stop playing. I feel like puking just watching this."

Ten minutes later, Sato put down the controller, covered his mouth, and rushed to the bathroom.

Severe 3D motion sickness.

The camera turned too quickly, and with the lack of spatial reference points, the brain's balance system completely collapsed.

Across Japan, countless Gundam fans went through the same torment that night.

Early the next morning, the major game retailers in Akihabara had just opened their doors when they were met by furious players.

"Boss, I want a refund."

"Opened games can't be returned or exchanged. That's the rule." The clerk pointed at the notice on the wall.

"This thing is completely unplayable! Ten minutes and I'm dizzy and nauseous. You're selling poison!" The player slammed the disc case onto the counter.

Arguments rose and fell one after another.

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