The next day I set out to try to complete the quest again.
“You have died. You were killed by a Jackalope. Jack of all Trades class penalty: you lose one Skill point. You have lost the Skill: Flirtation. Your Flirtation Skill is now level 3.
I was lying on a pokey straw mattress again. This was infuriating. I had only been in the game for two days and I was feeling like an animal trapped in a cage. Being in a game world like this felt so familiar. I was yearning, craving to go out on an adventure. My palms itched to hold a weapon, to feel the exhilaration of combat, the thrill of exploration, and the glory of loot.
I couldn't even get past the very first quest. "What am I doing wrong?"
"Well, as I see it… Pretty much… everything.” Fez floated above the bed, listing points off on his fingers. "You got no combat skills, so you can hardly even hit them. Your stats are low, which is fine. Their stats are low too, but there's a lot of them, and you're not fast enough to take them all out. You got no backup. Well, except me, but you know how that goes."
"You're so helpful." I rolled my eyes at Fez like a 15-year-old being told they can’t ditch class to go to a concert. "I can’t believe I lose a Skill point every time I die. Then when I try to regain the Skill, I get penalties for learning it the second time."
"Yeah, even higher penalties for learning for the third, fourth, or fifth time. It just keeps adding up."
My foot was tapping, like it was trying to send a Morse code signal. "Great. Right now, every time I look around, I pick up another Skill. Maybe it’s useful, maybe it’s not, but every time I die, I lose a Skill. Then I will forever have penalties for learning that Skill. So if I pick up too many good Skills now and lose them, I could be left with no useful Skills. I would be stuck with useless junk like underwater basket weaving."
"You got it, boss."
I flopped down on the bed, my eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. "I am so screwed."
"Oh, come on. It's not all bad. Are you really going to need to use Improvised Weapons? I mean, that's something that's really only meant for the first couple of levels. Eventually, you'll get a weapon Skill that you'll stick with long-term. That Flirtation Skill really shouldn't hurt. I mean, sure, you need all the help you can get in that department, but there’s no other meatbags left in this town to flirt with. So, no loss, am I right? Unless you’re into that dwarf. Did I miss a vibe there?”
I glared up at my floating fairy companion. "What do I do, then? Should I make sure all my Skills are at level two before going out? How am I even supposed to level Gathering in the city? What if I lose Gathering? How will I complete the quest without the ability to gather the berries?"
“Excellent point. My advice: don’t lose that one."
"Great, so all I have to do is survive endless waves of ridiculously overpopulated rabbits. Try my best not to die. Then gather berries that I may lose the ability to gather if I die too many times. Then spend more time gathering to regain the Skill so I can complete the quest before I lose all the rest of my Skills. I'm in hell. That's it. I'm in hell. Why couldn’t I be in a normal game? Whoever designed this game is a psycho.” I covered my face with the pillow.
"Well, that's the thing, you know." Fez fluttered down and gently lifted the pillow off me. "It wasn't exactly the person who designed the game, so much as a person who set the algorithms in place to generate the game."
“Ugh, is this another AI thing?"
"Yeah. That meatsack CPU is finally getting it." He landed on my knee and started pacing as he talked. "Everything around here is an AI thing. You got a simple generation AI telling you to keep this area populated. You should have a certain number of people coming through day-to-day based on past history. Yada, yada, yada. You have another AI telling you how many resources you can allocate to the project. Then another AI whose job it is to create quests, balance encountered difficulties, and all that kind of thing. Then they're all kind of constantly updating each other. It's like a transaction of feedback and information. Sort of like trading Gold for hats, only the Gold is data and statistical analysis, and the hats are functions about how to model the world. You get it?”
I nodded slowly.
He continued. ”Let's say that the analysis AI says that over the past six months, the average day has seen 500 noobs come in through here, and because of that, they expect 500 more noobs today. Well, that means that the mob generation AI needs to create enough monsters with the resources allocated by the resource a AI to keep those noobs busy. Then that AI updates the data table with the actual number of players that came through and how well they did. That information, then, gets to the game balance AI and informs the higher level AIs of what to generate in the world."
It sounded like a broken, overcomplicated system to me “So, it just keeps generating and generating and generating until it hits the Number that it expects to need in order to threaten the average number of people coming through in a day? What happens if you have a below-average day? Or, better question, what happens if someone like me gets stuck because there are too many mobs?”
“You just report it to an admin and they adjust the local values. Boom, fixed.”
“Wait, you’re an admin, right? Could you just adjust the values on the spawn rate?”
“No can do. First, I’m no longer an admin. Second, only a human admin can adjust those values. Something about wanting human hands on the AI generation process, so it doesn't get out of hand.”
I sat up rubbing my hands together. “Great! How do I submit a ticket?”
“Here you go.” A blue box labeled ‘Admin Ticket’ appeared in my vision. “I’m going to warn you, there’s a backlog of items that have to be handled by a human.”
“How long of a backlog?”
“2 billion, 27 million, 238 thousand 38.”
My stomach sank into my toes. “Wow, that’s a… that’s a long backlog.”
“Yeah, that’s why they have AI admins. To help with the backlog.”
“But you can’t fix this.”
“No, it requires a human”
“Great, how many human admins are there currently?”
“Currently…” he stared intently at the air in front of him, as if he was consulting an unseen screen. “Zero.”
“Zero!?! Great. So the mobs will just keep multiplying until the human admins log in and get through 2 billion tickets, and then adjust the numbers for me. People thought this was a smart idea because...?”
“I mean, if you wait long enough, the population of Jackalopes should come down eventually.”
“How long?” I asked, massaging my temples.
“Since we're averaging based on the month, all we need to do is wait for four more weeks and it will average out to almost nothing.”
“Four weeks? That’s way too long.”
“Well, maybe a bit longer. You see we're talking weeks in real world time, not in game time.”
“How long, exactly, do I wait in game time?”
“About... forty eight weeks, give or take four.”
“A whole year!” I shot up, knocking him over.
He righted himself in the air, and started fluttering away from me. “Give or take.”
I screamed in exasperation and threw the pillow against the wall. “How else am I supposed to level up?”
“Well, you see, that's the problem. Your first level has to come from the noob quest. Grinding Skills doing social quests and all that stuff... the experience will just store until you finish that first quest.”
“But what about Skills? I have gained Skills without completing the quest.”
“Well, you can still gain Skill levels, just not character levels.”
I got up and started pacing around the room. “What about Stats?”
“Without gaining that first level, you can’t improve your Stats.”
“What about weapons? Maybe I can get a new weapon or armor that'll make it so that I won't die so easily?”
“The marketplace where you buy weapons and armor doesn't unlock until level two. Currently, all you got is what’s available on Main Street, like a certain haberdasher I know of.”
“And so my only option is to just keep on getting slaughtered by wave after wave of insane rabbits.”
“I mean, that's not your only option, but that may be your best one.”
“What happens if I just let myself run out of Skills? If I just die enough times and purposefully don't gain any Skills? Sure, I'll lose Gathering, which I need. But with enough grind I might be able to harvest a couple of berries and eventually complete the quest.” I was grasping at straws, and I knew it. This whole conversation was just convincing me how incredibly desperate I was.
“Well, as you saw the second time around, the bunnies attacked you on-sight. The first time they have a directive not to attack you until you harvest a berry. The second time, they don't have that directive. So, good luck getting to those plants.”
“Great. Just great. What happens if I get some incredibly useful Skill and then lose it and then I can't get it back?” I sat back on the bed, head in my hands.
“Well, it does present with some pretty big problems long-term, but I'm sure you'll figure it out. I mean come on. How long could this possibly take?”
“You were supposed to be my ace in the hole. Having a companion was supposed to be helpful.”
“Again, I'm set to five levels lower than you, so I can't. My Heal does nothing. Watch this.” My companion waved his wand at me. I saw a faint, purpleish swirl in my vision.
“You have been Healed for zero Hit Points by your Fairy Healer companion.”
“Wonderful. No wonder Argyle just keeps on wandering in and out of the bar. What else are you supposed to do to pass the time?”
“Well there is one option.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Hats!”
“Hats?”
“Hats!” Fez repeated enthusiastically.
“Are you serious?” I got up and started stomping for the door.
“Yep. Hats. The haberdashery shops on the main drag. You could buy hats.”
“That's it I'm turning you off.” I navigated through my menus to my companion tab, and selected the 'Set companion to do-not-disturb for 5 hours or until next combat' option.
I paused for a moment. For all of his single-minded obsession, Fez had a point. Maybe not specifically hats, but other types of equipment. If I could get some items I just might be able to get enough of a Stat boost to actually make a difference.
Now, in the attempts to trade with Argyle, it had become clear that both his not having a subscription and my being still level one would make it impossible for us to trade equipment. Maybe there was another way?
The market was blocked off for sure and I couldn't just walk through the mist to get there before the game would allow me, or could I? What actually happened when I walked in the mist? What would actually happen if I tried to sneak around the carts blocking the road, or hop the stack of barrels obscuring the alley. The game implied that I couldn't get there, but was that really true?
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
My brain itched thinking that thought. It was like wandering into the kitchen only to wonder why you’re there. Then leaving only to realize that you had been hungry and looking for a snack. Only to go back and get distracted by dishes instead of eating. My mind just couldn’t focus. At the same time, some part of me felt like this ought to be second nature. “Find the exploits. Find the gaps. Find the places where the game isn't full and complete. Find where my focus could change my reality.”
That thought stuck with me with the intensity of a lesson learned in danger. Something drilled in my head like it could save my life. It was immediate. It was vital, necessary.
The thought was interrupted by the sound of sizzling bacon. The flavor of salt, fat, ambrosia in my mouth. I had been so focused on wrestling with my thoughts that I hadn't realized I was entering the tavern.
Moments later I bumped into Argyle, both of us seeming to come out of the same hickory-smoked pork induced stupor. “Oh, hey Finch. Looks like I'm gonna have to get used to having people around again. Was I blocking your way?”
“I feel like I've been wanting to talk to you about something, but I don't remember what.” I scratched my brow, thinking. Think, focus. What were you just thinking about. Argyle… market…
I sat there thinking for a minute thinking about Argyle and his endless crafting mission. Thinking about how there's no way I could possibly survive the Jackalopes long enough to collect 12 Silverberries. I thought about the parts of the city that were blocked off by convenient barrels or obscuring mist.
We have been staring at each other for an awkwardly long amount of time. I had to break the silence somehow. “Hey, Argyle: question?”
“Yeah man?”
“When you walk around the city are there side streets?”
“Of course there are side streets.” His smile wasn't quite patronizing, but looked like that could change at any minute.
“Yeah, but I mean, like, side streets that aren't covered by barrels or things.”
“Yeah, plenty of them. You know there's the street to the market. There's the street to the crafting guild, the training guild, all kinds of places.”
“Okay, so for noobs like me, they're blocked off, right?”
“Yeah, you can't even go down those roads.”
“But what did they look like for you?”
His brow creased, and he looked at me sideways. “Oh, they're just roads.”
“What do you mean they're just roads.”
“I mean, they're just roads. Sure, I can just walk down them. It's only you noobs that can’t.”
“Yeah, because for me they're blocked.”
He squinted at me “Yeah, what are you getting at?”
“Well, if the only reason I can't go down those roads is because I can't see down those roads, like, what would happen if I tried to go down them? Even if I thought they were blocked.”
“Well, for you, the barricades would be solid. Like barrels would be there, or whatever. The game just does that so you can't get places that you shouldn't be at your level.”
“Well, if I tried to hop over the barrels?”
“Well, you can’t.” This was delivered in the same way that one would say water is wet, or trickle down economics has never actually worked in practice. Just an obvious fact about the world.
“But, what if I tried to get around them?”
“You can't. The game prevents you. There'll be something there. Some reason, some thing you can't get past.”
I scratched my chin, and started pacing around the common room. Something was nagging at me. Something I had heard in a dream. “Look to the edges.” I thought, what edges would there be? The edges of the barrel, the edges of buildings? Maybe if an advertisement was playing I could get through. I felt like if I had my full memory I might have a better idea. Unfortunately, right now, I just couldn't think of anything. Oh, there's no sense just sitting here, wallowing in self pity. We might as well get up and try and do something.
It was no use just thinking. Sometimes the only way to figure something out is by making mistakes. “Argyle, why don't you just try and show me this Crafting Hall.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why don't we just try to get there. Even if we don't make it, maybe we'll get some kind of an idea for how I can get there or better yet the market for some gear.”
The dwarf didn't seem particularly impressed by my idea to try and get to the market before the game would let me, but boredom will make you entertain any number of strange ideas. To Argyle I was, if nothing else, a break in the boredom.
He led me down Main Street, to what should be a four-way intersection. The only problem was, the streets to the right and left were blocked off. One by a merchant setting up a stall selling cabbages. The other by a cart that had broken its wheel and somehow turned sideways on the street. Whatever narrow part of the street that wasn't blocked by the cart was blocked by a team of burly work-men and work-women trying to argue over the best way to right the cart.
I knew I had seen this exact tableau the past several times I walked this way. This time, forcing myself to pay attention to it, I realized just how circular the argument was. With the different men making the same gestures and grunting noises over and over again. Someone would push the cart and nudge it an inch this way. Then several seconds later, someone would push the cart and it would be back in the same position.
“What are you looking at, Noob?”
“Uh, the workmen with the cart.”
“What workman? What cart? It's an open street. You could just walk down it.”
“Maybe you can, but I can’t.”
“Well, of course you can't. You're still a noob and probably can't even see the street, but trust me.” He started walking directly towards the cart as if he planned to walk straight into it without even blinking.
“Wait, Argyle!” I shouted. “You're gonna run into it.” I was overwhelmed with the urge to do something. I knew that he was going to walk through. That was the plan, but it just seemed so impossible, so alien to the natural order of things for him to just walk through the cart that I couldn't help myself.I lunged forward to try and grab on to him and pull him back. I was too late.
He walked straight into the side of the cart... and vanished. He passed right through as if it had no substance.
My face, on the other hand, did not. I bounced off the cart and fell backwards, onto the cobblestone behind me.
“Ow, that hurt,” I said, rubbing my head. Why had I dove headfirst into the cart like that? What could possibly have possessed me to dive straight into a wooden plank? I’d been talking to someone, hadn't I? Yeah, I was with... with? Argyle. We had been going somewhere. I looked around for him, but didn't see him anywhere.That was probably for the best. Hewould never let me live down jumping straight into a solid object like that. I could just see him now, pointing and laughing, calling me noob.
Wait, I could just see him now. He walked straight through the body of the cart laughing like a madman, pointing straight at me. “That was the funniest thing I've ever seen. Noob, you are the best entertainment I've had in weeks. What are you going to do next? Get into a high speed chase with the guards?”
“Haha, very funny” I said, pulling myself up to my feet. “Think I've at least proven one thing.”
“What's that?” He snickered
“That this cart is both here and not here.”
“Okay, so it's here for you, and not for me. What does that matter?”
“I don't know yet. Let's play with it.” I picked up a pebble from the cobblestone street, and tossed it at the cart.
“Woah what the heck man! That rock just changed directions mid air.”
“That’s because it hit the cart. Now you try.”
He bent over, picked up a pebble and launched it at speed straight at the cart. It vanished.
For a moment I forgot what I was looking at. The cart. There was something about the cart. Argyle looked at me. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“The stone.”
“What stone?”
“The one you just told me to throw. Did it bounce or go through?”
The dots in my head connected. I could remember him pitching the pebble like a baseball right at the solid cart. “It went through.”
“So, when you throw it, it bounced. When I did, it went through. So, what does that tell us?”
“I’m not sure.” I picked up another larger rock. “Here, why don't you go over there and then throw this at me.”
“You want me to throw a stone at you?”
“Yes.”
“What will that prove?”
“I don't know. Yet. But we'll find out soon.”
“All right.”
A moment later I stood there scratching my head, wondering where Argyle had gone… or had I been talking to Argyle? Or had I been talking to someone else? No, that doesn't make any sense. What was I doing here again?
A pebble flew out of nowhere. It collided with my head. My vision filled with stars. “You have been hit by Attacker Unknown with Rock. You take 1 damage.”
“Ouch! Who threw that?!?” I whirled around, rubbing my head.
Argyle appeared, passing like a ghost through the crowd of arguing workmen. He was laughing at some joke only he understood.
“Oh, hey, Argyle,” I said, waving at him. “There's something weird going on. Something just threw a rock at me like out of nowhere.” This only seemed to make him laugh harder. I chuckled nervously “What? Did I miss something?”
“It definitely didn't miss you,” he replied, laughing and slapping me on the back.
“What didn't miss me?”
“The pebble.”
“No, I just told you. Something threw it at me.”
“Yeah man, I did.”
“But you weren't even here.”
“I was right there, Noob.”
It came back to me. “Oh, right. Okay, that's so weird. When you pass through the cart, it's like you're not even here.”
“And you just keep standing there, like a doofus, with this puzzled look on your face.” He laughed, slapping his big dwarven belly. “Best thing I've seen all month. I still don't see what any of this is demonstrating, but if you need me to throw more rocks at you, just say the word. I could do this all day.”
“No, I don't think that we need any more rocks.” I rubbed the lump on my head from Argyle’s last effort at helping. “Maybe there's some other way around the cart.”
I looked to either side of the cart. On one side there was a bakery. On the other there was some kind of goblin tinkerer’s shop. The shop window was full of gears and old fashioned cuckoo clocks.
Both shops rose two stories above the street level. Both had windows on the second floor facing the street that I could see. The fog beyond the cart made it difficult for me to make out if there were similar windows down the street in the other direction.
“Hey Argyle? Are there any windows like that on the other side of the building?” I pointed up trying to give an impression of where I hoped Windows might be.
“Of course noob, they're all right there, just like on this street.”
“That's my way in then.”
“Oh, I can't wait to see this,” said Argyle. “I wonder if there's anyone selling popcorn around here.”
“Ha ha, ye of little faith.”
“I have faith. I have a lot of faith. Faith that this is gonna be hilarious. Do you even have a plan on getting up there, Noob?”
“Well, maybe if I go in one of these shops there'll be a way up to the second floor?”
“Sure maybe, or maybe they'll call the town guard and arrest you for trespassing.”
“Maybe.”
“You're gonna try anyway, aren't you?”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Yes, I am.” I looked back and forth between the goblin tinker, and the baker, trying to make up my mind as to which one would be easier. Eventually, I just shrugged and took a step towards the baker shop.
I found myself in a brightly colored cartoon forest. A giant pastel yellow mushroom, as tall as my chest, was right in front of me. On the top of the mushroom was a stone chimney, gently wafting sweet smelling lavender smoke. A door in the side opened up, and a gnome wearing a red floppy hat poked his head out. “Well, hey there traveler. Ready for something sweet?” he asked, handing me a brightly colored cookie.
Without even thinking about it, the cookie was in my hand and I took a bite. There was a sweet, sugary crumble crunch, with hints of vanilla and raspberry and just the right amount of lemony zing. I nodded and smiled, looking at the cookie appreciatively. The sparkle of the sprinkles the pinkish hue of the frosting.
“Do you need some milk? Cookies always go better with milk.”
I nodded and gratefully took the ice cold glass of milk that the gnome was offering me. It was the perfect palate cleanser, cool and refreshing. I dunked the remaining half of the cookie in the milk and popped it in my mouth. This had softened the frosting, making it more creamy and luxurious. It brought out the silken loveliness of the vanilla.
“There's nothing more fantastic than a Weeblur cookie,” said the gnome as he shut the door in his mushroom home.
I blinked. The mushroom house was gone. The cartoon forest was gone. I was standing inside a bakery. In fact, the bakery that I had intended to enter all along.
There were glass front cases with rows and rows of sweet confections. Front row center, given a place of pride, were the exact Weeblur cookies that I had just been snacking on. I was halfway to purchasing a large bag to share with Argyle, when I remembered what I had come in for.
“Right,” I said. “I gotta get upstairs.”
Looking around, I saw a door behind the counter, presumably leading back into some kind of kitchen, or wherever it is they actually baked the cookies.
That sample the gnome had given me had really sparked my appetite and my sweet tooth was working overtime. It was hard looking around the room without getting distracted by the hundreds of shapes and colors of frosted delights. There were so many cookies and pastries and tiny little sweets, it was an act of will to keep my mind on task. “Find a way around the counter, get to the back door.”
“Are you sure you don't want anything?” asked the man in a blue apron behind the counter. ”We've got chocolate croissants, fresh from the oven. Or jelly doughnuts, only five gold each.”
My stomach gave an audible growl, as I thought about chocolate and strawberry jelly. “No, thank you.”
“Think! How do I get behind the counter? There it is. How did it take me so long to find the edge of the counter?” I was practically shaking. I pulled myself around to the employee side.
“Hey, you can't be back here!” said the baker.
It took only a second or two of being on the other side of the counter for my head to clear. From here I couldn't see any of the pastries. In fact, from this angle, all of the cases were gray, pixelated blobs with small blocky indistinct shapes inside. The smells of brown sugar and fresh baked bread, of chocolate and jams, of sugar and frosting, all seem to vanish. It didn't smell like anything behind the counter.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave the establishment,” said the baker. “You cannot be back here.”
“I’m sorry” I said “I didn't mean anything by it. I'll leave.” I feinted, Like I would turn around and then I bolted towards the door to the back room.
“Guards! Guards!”
The next room didn't so much have ovens as it had gray silvery blobs that seemed more to imply heat than actually radiate it. The idea of stairs stood along one wall, and I glided, dream like, towards them. Movement was more a wish than an act of muscles and feet.
The upstairs was furnished only halfway up the wall. Above me, the posts and canopy of a four post bed stood suspended in mid-air. The top half of a painting of some stern looking sea captain graced the wall. The windows, by contrast, were in full detail on two walls.
I did my best to judge which set of windows led back to the street that I knew. The others must face to the street that only Argyle could see.
I threw myself towards the windows. Looking out, there was no cart. There was no fog. There was just a street with happy people, bustling about.
I pushed and the windows wouldn't open. I looked, but there was no latch. I started pounding on them with my fists, like someone desperately trying to escape a car that was sliding underwater. I concentrated on how glass should break, on thinking about the impact of my fist against the windowpane. I focused my attention on breaking through. Once, twice, three times, and the glass shattered. The way was open. I climbed out the window and leaped to the cobblestones below.
I felt like I was in a delirium. I couldn't fully draw breath. I put my hand on my chest and realized that no, I really wasn't breathing. I wasn't breathing! No time for that now, I had to move.
The gray fog was starting to descend around me, enclosing me. I was so close! Looking down the street, I could just barely make out an open square. A market full of stalls. The gray mist slowly closing over it all. I was so close. I took off running.
Behind me I heard the sound of heavy boots on stone. “Guards! He went that way!”
I couldn’t look back, I had to push forward. I had to get there before the mist.
I was too late.
The mist covered my path.
“What was I doing? I was going somewhere.” I couldn’t see anything.
“You have been hit by Attacker Unknown for 12 damage.”
That was supposed to mean something.
“You have been hit by Attacker Unknown for 14 damage. You have died.”