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along with the player, but only the player could manipulate the actions of the host.  Attracting viewers meant you were earning money from multiple players simultaneously.  However, to achieve this required a high reputation.  Viewers would not stay long if the action was not worth watching.
    Now Yang was a semi-conscious observer of his body.  In his meditative state, he was aware of the player’s actions, but remained only a passive observer.  Sometimes, if the player was having trouble, Yang could assist in the action.
    The player started his manipulation of Yang’s body by looking around the campsite.  The player looked out across the vista of fields and meadows that Yang had looked at moments before, but with none of the same appreciation.  The player was looking for adventure and orienting himself, he did not care about the color of the fields or the delicate flight of blackbirds upon the warm morning breeze.  The player walked Yang around the dead campfire to confirm the controls were working properly.  He practiced a quick-draw and then opened the cylinder on the six-gun to ensure that it was loaded. 
    Next , he pulled a thin black cigarillo from a pouch in the saddlebag together with a book of matches.  He put the cigarillo between his teeth, struck a match and started puffing.  Yang hated this rough smoke.  It hurt his eyes and made his throat dry.  Players rarely stopped to drink water as feelings of thirst or pain were not transmitted by the device. 
    Yang had gotten used to enduring the saddle sores on his backside and the burn of whiskey on the back of his throat.  His knuckles were calloused from bar fights.  But Yang could not acquire a taste for these thin black cigarettes.  The player did not know Yang or what he liked.  To the player, Yang was Elijah, better known as Eli.  Eli was an outlaw who drank strong whiskey and fought gunfights in the street.  Eli liked to smoke rough tobacco , and the player wanted to taste that smoke.
    Now the player waited.  Yang also waited wondering what adventure the player would pursue.  Soon they heard horse hooves climbing to the top of the rise.  The player did not draw a weapon, so Yang new that this was a pre-arranged meeting.  He also realized with dread that they were planning on going after the morning stagecoach.   Robbing the stagecoach is a dangerous adventure. 
    The bullets are rubber and the bullet wounds are really on micro explosions that splatter fake blood from the squib vest worn under his clothes.  But the stagecoach is quite real.  Jumping from a running horse to a moving stagecoach is a dangerous stunt.
    Yang knew men from his village who had been crushed by the wheels of the stagecoach.  They would never work as a host again.  Mangled arms or ruined legs.  The RSI Game Company kept these handicapped ex-outlaws employed.  They were back at the factory spending their days sewing up ripped costumes or replacing the l ead bullets with rubber slugs.
    Two riders crested the ridge.  Eli recognized Sam and Gus.  They both wore dusty cowboy costumes and both were wearing an interface device protruding from oversized cowboy hats. 
    Gus reined in his horse and said , “ Howdy Eli . ”
    Eli touched his hat, “Gus.”
    In their real lives, or their lives before RSI Gaming Company purchased the plastic brush factory and employed almost everyone in their village, Gus was Yang’s cousin.  They knew each other quite well.  But they were trained to speak in short terse sentences in order to improve the illusion that they were tough outlaws.
    Players could speak to each other through the hosts by simply speaking into their remote interfaces or synaptic suits.  If a player spoke, the host was trained to simply repeat what was said , word for word.  At the same time, hosts could speak to each other, but the hosts were trained to keep their independent conversations at a minimum and relevant to the situation.
    “Any sign of