There’s only one way into Hell, and that’s the gates. The only way out is through a single portal guarded by NPCs who, the boards say, are invincible. To get past the guards you have to be at least level five in all the major spell categories.

Sometimes noobs show up trying to race right for the Earth missions. LOL. I’ve spent hours sitting and watching them get their asses handed to them.

The guards don't give FuknDemon1 or me a second glance--I passed the minimum levels within the first ten hours of the game's release.

As we approach the portal, a popup appears before us.

Enter Destination.

Since we're currently linked as a team, only one of us has to enter the geocode.

"You do it,” FuknDemon1 says. "Just to make sure it's cool."

I punch in the code for our destination and cringe, waiting for some sirens, or for the guards to turn and pummel me.

Instead, the portal changes from a formless black mass to the image of a street. A street that, with a sinking in my stomach, I realize I know really too well.

We both step through the portal.

Standing on a street I’ve walked along hundreds of times--including just this past afternoon--I realize my initial instincts were right--it’s creepy.

Revelations always seemed realistic. The textures and lighting of the various locations I've visited were impressive. But this, being able to compare the game to reality, brings in a whole new perspective. There's the pothole I hit with my bike last summer--skinned my damn knee. The slabs of the sidewalk retain their skewed placements, rising and falling with no relation to the rest of the landscape. There are the footprints in that one slab where Danny Brascow shoved me into the wet cement so my new shoes would get ruined. From that slab of sidewalk, I look to the house I've crossed the street to avoid for the past nine years. It looks more ominous in the shadows cast by the streetlights.

What makes a kid a bully? And how do they pick their favorite targets? I mean, I'm not the smallest guy in school. I like video games, obviously, but who doesn't? All I know is that the further the distance between me and Danny Brascow, the better.

"You know that house?" FuknDemon1 asks, following my gaze. "It's where we're going for our mission."

"What?"

"Check it out." He nods toward the house.

The level of detail had me so absorbed, I missed the mark on the front door.

The Demon’s Claw--a red smear made by a bloody, inhuman, hand. The game uses it to mark target locations for missions. As I understand it, the angels have something similar, just prettier.

My chest clenches, making my breathing go all haywire. Danny’s house. God, of all the houses on this street, why his?

“You ok?” FuknDemon1 asks.

It’s not really his house. This is just a game. Just a game. Just a game...

I’m not even Tyler Drake, social fringe dweller, weakling, and game freak. No, here I’m the demon Shamshiel. And if this mission delivers the promised experience points, I won’t just be a demon anymore--I’ll be a Fallen Angel. As far as Hell goes, there’s no higher rank.

I shake my arms, trying to lose the bullshit feelings. It’s a game. We do our thing, get our points, no one gets hurt, and I level up.

“No. I’m good.” It takes effort to keep my voice from shaking. “Just a little weirded out at how real it looks.”

“I know, right?” he says with a wink. “C’mon.”