My character didn’t regain awareness in the next twenty minutes. No character meant no Xin. No [Messenger’s Tube] meant no contacting the Voices. I logged out of the ARC, upset, and passed out. Staying up late hadn’t really been worth it, using my last [NPC Conspiracy] charge was an option. I disliked the idea of using such an insane trump card just yet, especially since the last one had shut down the globe for a few minutes. What would I do if men in black suits showed up and hauled me away? Being with Xin couldn’t happen if I was in a prison cell.
Dreaming plagued me with a wall of fears. My dad’s face stood there shaking sadly. He said, “Xin’s not in the box son, she’s over here with me.”
I remember screaming in protest, but the words didn’t make sense. They were more of an incomprehensible ranting. Half sobs were choked up by a denial of all that I hoped and worked for.
“Sorry, son. Life’s for the living, and the dead are just rot. Like your cat, remember Mister Sniffles?” His words felt insanely clear for such an awkward dream.
“He was just a cat, and Xin is more than that!” Dream me shouted.
“Dead’s dead, son. Time and tide wash us all away in the end.” His features were blurred by time's haze.
“But Xin’s alive!” I woke up raving with a rapid heartbeat. The last image before being sent into awareness was my father’s face, devoid of awareness but still shaking back and forth sadly. When was the last time I really looked at either one of my parents? In the struggle to hold onto Xin’s memory, I had cast away so many other relationships.
The bed felt cold and goosebumps crisscrossed my arms. Had I really been so used to being alone at night? Even when Xin was around, I spent a lot of nights waiting for her to come home. Three years, long enough to be so dead inside I used a machine to dance with her, just to feel a hint of memory in my arms. I tried to shake off the emotions and took a breath. Thinking about the nature of our possible relationship only made me waste the limited time I already had.
Five hours of sleep were all I managed to get. That would be nearly an entire day in Continue Online. Maybe Hermes was conscious and waiting to start serving virtual slave labor. Maybe then I could start working on redeeming myself or getting murdered, or whatever exactly was next. That King Nero fellow had sounded justifiably upset, and perhaps a bit crazy.
Parts of the situation tore at me. My actions in an alternate reality video game had been linked to his death from the Voices manipulation of my character creation tests. That part was outside my control, but in both games, I had killed Commander Strongarm and Queenshand, who I guess was his sister in law. I didn’t really understand how it all went together yet.
Today I would simply take myself out of the work queue for a few hours and take a look at the journals Continue Online kept for me. It was odd, when growing up most of those lore items and game backstory issues were glazed right over as I pressed the next button. Now, as an adult, they mattered far more than expected. It wasn’t just my wild ride either, Beth had an entire tapestry of backstory to her adventures too.
I logged straight in, once again bypassing the little preview window that could be used for checking autopilot actions. It was more fun to dive in blind and just roll with whatever happened, in the same way I used to leap into the swimming pool and get the abrupt chill over with. My head shook, swimming made me think about dad. There was a reason I had never really been that active in sports.
As the loading screen darkness faded I felt my leg weighed down by something extremely heavy. We, that is to say, I, and the back of a dozen other heads, were rolling along in an open-air sort of bus. There were large creatures that looked like a cross between dwarf giraffes and oxen off to one side. Our vehicle was bolted onto harnesses making the ride sway.
New Player Attribute Added: [Criminal]
* [Criminal] is a stat increased by those with a [Condemnation] ability.
* [Redemption] points cancel out [Criminal] points
[Redemption] points can be earned through completion of special tasks assigned by the party who [Condemned] you. In this case, you are punished by a person with [High Nobility] status. Tasks will be assigned as you travel around the territory. Total points gained varies based on the complexity of the task, reason for punishment and fine being imposed.
* Until your Redemption rate reaches zero, you will remain a victim of the [Convict Brand].
* Current [Criminal] value: 7,000
Behind the system message was a wall of people snoring. If I concentrated there were tiny player and autopilot indicators floating up above. Glancing around revealed two NPCs in heavy armor escorting this prison cart. No one else, just two. There was a tower far in the distance that looked vaguely familiar. Not [The Lone Tower] where the [Mistborn] resided, but one that Beth had probably talked to me about.
I tried to flip through my notes for a half hour while our cart meandered onward. It felt slower than the [Callibur]s by miles. We must have spent ten minutes passing by a single tree.
“Hey.” Someone behind me whispered quietly. “Hey, you’re online right?”
It took me a few moments to register the words. The tower’s name still eluded me, my notes for this region were minimal. I must have passed through at high speeds with [Blink] and [Lightbody] helping me.
“You there? You’re not a mute, right?” The other person whispered. Their voice didn’t sound familiar. There was a jingle to it that sounded almost southern, but crisp. I tried to turn my head around but there was something bolted to my neck that made it impossible.
“Deaf, you mean?”I asked. Shazam had been mute. The idea made me sad briefly but hopefully, this guy behind me couldn’t tell what my face looked like. I had to remind myself that everyone here was a major criminal in the eyes of this game.
“Daft?” This stranger sounded honestly confused. “You daft then?”
“Deaf, as in hard of hearing. And no, I was distracted.” I was beginning to suspect this person was daft, as in not entirely there.
“Shut it, convicts!” One of the two guards yelled.
“Oh. Yeah. That. Are you daft?” He whispered the question. Maybe the man was just screwing with me, he did sound kind of amused.
I raised an eyebrow and leaned my head back slightly. Both hands were bound to a bar in front. Hopefully, this other person had been tied up too. There was a man to my left who seemed bolted down in a similar fashion. Part of me really wanted to exercise the full extent of my abilities upon this man's body. All those weeks of pent-up aggression with the repetitive customer complaints. The idea of unleashing a bit of malcontent upon the world made me smile.
These were players, so they would resurrect eventually. They were also supposedly complete scum. Briefly, I paused. My own status was right in the mix with these people. That meant in the general public’s eyes I wouldn’t be much better.
“Yes, I’m daft.” Why not? I wasn’t at work, there was no need to be the friendly but professional version of myself. These weren’t accountant customers or letter recipients. I didn’t really care a ton about showing weakness in front of people who played games, no matter how real this world was.
“Good. You looked like a daft to me. I’m gonna call you Mister Daft forever.” He proudly declared. I couldn’t see what this guy looked like, but he sounded like a belligerent teenager. “That okay, Mister Daft?”
“I thought we agreed the new guy would be Sharkbait.” Another player said with a yawn in his voice. He sounded bored. This newest person was to the left. All around indications of autopilot symbols were dropping away.
“You said that, but we already got Shankems over there. I don’t want another S name.” There was a rattle as the guy behind me moved around. His voice shifted to face us better.
“Dude's name is Hermes, get an ID skill, and maybe some brain cells, then you can stop opting out at the beginning of every stop.” A fourth person spoke. He sounded deep and easily annoyed. I assumed the easy to annoy part because that was the first thing he had said, and this fourth rumbling voice sounded borderline mad.
“I ain’t playing this game to fight. I’m a loving sort.” The guy behind me insisted. He rattled something again.
I jerked my hands trying to reproduce the noise. A few seconds later and there were a few possibilities. It was likely the man’s chains were being stretched to their maximum range. Maybe there was an odd combination of footwork being done.
“Yeah yeah. Don’t get your squicky hands in my direction. If you end up on my team, I’m offing you before you can suicide on a pull.” The rumbling one spoke.
“What are you all talking about?” My eyes and neck strained to see two of them. The guy with a deep voice talking about an ID skill looked to be Hispanic. It might have been the avatar or an in-game skill. Tips of his hair actually held a pale whiteness to them, almost like they would glow in the dark.
“First tour?” The deep voice man asked me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m Hermes. Thanks for getting my name right.”
“Nah, your name is Mister Daft.”
Possible Alias: Mister Daft Details:
Alias skills allow a player to mask their primary name with a secondary one. The effectiveness of an alias depends upon when, and where it’s used. Further development of an alias takes work and time. Large scale deeds under an alternate name can help establish an alias.
Note: Other Travelers may see past an alias depending upon their skill usage.
“Or Hermes.” I offered, neither name bothered me that much at this point. My interest lay in all these words the details they seemed to be taking for granted. Those prisoners back in the jail cell seemed to believe this was a terrible place to be, yet three of these players had started a conversation already.
Maybe there was a certain amount of disconnect, this was a virtual world after all. There was pain feedback when we died, nothing minor either. Especially considering the heart attack I had been exposed to as William Carver. Maybe they all made choices like I did.
“Alright, Hermes. Some ground rules to make life easier during your stay.” The big tanned guy said. He didn’t bother turning his head much. “Listen up, ‘cus those that don’t get boned quick.”
“I still like Mister Daft. Daft, ‘cus he’s got air between his ears.”
“Don’t listen to him, he’s got some skill that makes NPCs believe his lies. Works on players too.” The rumbling one said. I tried to use [Identification] but the skills were still locked. Mine, at least, but this other guy had managed to figure out my name at some point. Maybe we were unlocked briefly in order to do dungeon stuff.
“Shut up, convicts!” A guard pressed something hanging off the giraffe oxen monster then pain arched through our bindings. The big guy ground his teeth a little. I yelped from the unexpected spike. Others made varying noises.
“No one here is your friend unless circumstances force it. We’re headed to a team dungeon, but expect no favors just because you’re grouped.” He tried to whisper but failed. Apparently it was good enough for the guards.
“Okay.” All sorts of ideas raced through my brain.
“I’m only talking because I enjoy a certain amount of fairness, and don’t bother asking why we’re in. To sum this shit up, at least four people here are in just for murdering everyone they could before enough other players brought them down.” The Hispanic guy shrugged. “Seven others got burglary raps, add in some political hatred or getting on the wrong side of quests. Squick back there tried to touch a bunch of elf girls who may be eighty but are mentally eight.”
“Game's rigged. They were legal.” The man grumbled. “Way, way over eighteen!”
“Jesus, you kill him before he suicides and I’ll consider it a personal favor. Same offer I make to everyone else. Free pass.”
“How many times!?” The guard yelled as armor clinked. Another round of electrical collar abuse kicked in. This time, everyone cried out except the big darkly tanned guy who had been explaining things to me. “If the new guy needs to know something, he can learn by trial and error, or just check that guide shit you Travelers have.”
“Calm down, Knight Middleton,” said the other armored figure. He rode on a creature that looked like someone shoved a gazelle and bull together. Without [Identification] I was unsure, but this beast was probably a [Larodeo], which apparently combined ‘the’ and ‘rodeo’ together.
The guard paused and glared at all of us. His hand hung above the electrical trigger button. I contemplated racing to log out of the ARC before another one hit. Dealing with pain when there was no choice was bearable, but this wasn’t Requiem.
“Knight Middleton, shocking the Travelers does nothing to help them be rehabilitated, despite your beliefs.” The other knight said. There hadn’t been a system popup regarding [Rehabilitation] points as a result of being damaged.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“It should. If the Voices left me in charge, I could just shock them endlessly, one point per minute endured.” The man pressed the button again anyway, despite his orders. I gasped as limbs shook from the jolt of electricity. “Then even that child raping scum could be redeemed in a few months. I bet he would even thank me if there was some, stupid, skill.” A finger jamming jolt of pain accompanied each of the final words.
“Knight Middleton, once again I will remind you that justice is not ours to dispense. We only follow the rules set forth.” The other guard’s tone sounded familiar. It was hard to place, almost like something from a half-forgotten dream.
“Fine,” He said.
“Convicts, for your own health, keep quiet until we reach the tower’s base.” The guard in charge didn’t even turn to look at us. His words were oddly clear.
Most of the other convicts flipped back out to autopilot. They must have been checking their characters out when someone started talking. The remote screen was good at seeing when things moved, but time dilation made it hard to track conversations sometimes.
I decided to log out and get the rest of my sleep. We clearly had time to wait before anything super exciting happened and I needed to be rested before dealing with group treachery. What exactly might they do? Form alliances across teams? Lead other people to their deaths?
When we were all chained down and sitting together in daylight it felt peaceful. Compared to frothing beasts in my face they were only human. Still, any one of these people barreling down on me in a game might turn rapidly ugly. That large man who just shrugged off electrical jolts had to be skilled, or tough with a damage reduction. Those hands had been huge too, like, Iron sized, or Leeroy, and he sounded nothing like those two.
He felt informative, but not friendly. The guy behind me, upon reflection, had been condescending and almost weasel-like. Inside the game, I had suppressed those impressions in order to listen and get my bearings in the new location. Thinking of being in the middle of all these literal criminals with unknown Continue Online abilities worried me about future prospects. My sleep was fitful and sweat filled.
A few hours later I logged in, more nervous than before after a moment to reflect. I still planned on fighting when needed, but it wouldn’t be fun or exciting. Battle blinded lust wasn’t one of my personality traits at all.
The guards were far enough away that we might be able to risk conversation. Our two escorts had met up with another six people wearing heavy armor. The bus seemed to be heading into a harness platform of some sort. Looming up above in a swirl of brightly lit orbs was the tower that had been visible from a distance. It reminded me of the old Starry Night work only the very air around it warped with colors. It went up into the sky quite a ways.
“Tower of Stars, that’s it, right?” I vaguely remembered Beth talking about it being a raid level zone. She died here more times than I cared to think about trying to beat this place again and again, but so far no one had made it to the top.
“Stop three on The Wheel, average deaths per three-man clear, seven. Loot we get to keep, bound. Winner last round? Android Seven over there. Soloed the boss when all the other convicts were dead.” A man next to me spoke calmly. His shoulders looked lopsided. “But we’re not doing the tower, we’re doing the much less exciting group dungeon called the Black Hole of Light.”
The carriage stopped completely and the giraffe oxen creatures groaned in unison. They sat down and our cart rocked as the platform took on the weight. We were still four feet above the ground but now suspended by heavy wooden beams. Two clearly patterned circles were marked nearby. Both guards got off their own mounts and started towards the circles.
“Android Seven?” I tilted my head in confusion. Continue Online didn’t have robots or androids, did it? Luckily our guards were away from the shock buttons so we should be able to converse a little.
“Just another player, punished for whatever crimes the game lured him into. If you draw his group he’ll probably let you live. He rarely does anything to lose points.” This person didn’t even stop to introduce himself.
“We’re going to be in groups?” I asked while eyeballing the crowd around me. A gate clinked behind us. My head had just enough slack to see some sort of fortified wall with guards up top. It felt like [Camp Grey Skull] but with NPCs all dressed in fine armor.
“We’ll be in groups of three. Luck of the draw, we get about an hour between groups.” The man nearby said.Without a completely visible face, it was difficult to anchor all these people. Plus everyone wore the same orange and black looking clothing. Why a fantasy world seemed intent upon using modern prisoner coloring was beyond me.
The tower’s base was almost the size of two football fields long. We could see it through a set of bars that separated us from the actual dungeons. There weren’t any other Travelers headed up into the building, so maybe normal people were given a different entrance. A tunnel of sorts could be seen wrapping around the tower’s base like a nautilus shell. One route tilted up into the dungeon that Beth had probably traversed. Down went down into a darkened pit.
“That sounds messy,” I said while trying to figure out what would happen next. The two guards that had ridden with us were now sitting in their circles. Runes on the ground were lighting up from [Lithium] spells. I smiled briefly, remembering Requiem’s lithium chanting. It sounded like bad childish poetry or did back in my [Red Imp] era.
“It is. Groups are encouraged to kill each other and whatever monsters they can find to keep the dungeon under control.” The other Traveler said with a barely visible shrug. He must have known I was new. Even now I barely remembered the rules on how dungeons worked. There were bosses, lots of little creatures, some had treasure or puzzles. Others came with quests inside. It was dynamic, so each person entering got a slightly different experience.
“Why does Android Seven win?” I had to know if there was a secret that might help. This guy would be within rights to keep it himself, or feed me false information, but he didn’t seem to care.
“I got nothing. He just does. Man has about five hundred murders under his belt and will be out in weeks at this rate.” His head shook. “Good for us, I guess. I’m more worried about what quest might require mass murder.”
I blinked a few times then looked at the quiet man in a corner. He looked almost, normal to me. If I were to slap a business suit on the other person then he could fit in on Wall Street or some other business area. Not that they were popular anymore with the technological growth these last two centuries. Still, he wore the same bright orange garb all of us did.
There was a flash of light up front that distracted me from staring at Android Seven. [Lithium] fueled runes had spiraled into a bright glowing shield around both guards. It looked to be a protective barrier of some sort. There was a third light slowly coalescing between them that seemed to be a box sitting atop a table.
“Shut up!” Knight Middleton yelled at us. “Listen closely! Your kind-” The man briefly sneered under his visor then went back to shouting too loud. “-should be getting information from the Voices right now. You’ll get some regulations for your stay. Kindly don’t waste our time by trying to escape.”
Warning!
People wearing the [Convict Brand] are restricted in their ability to stray from [Redemption] points. Each brand needs to stay within one hundred feet of a [Redemption Wagon] or only act within an approved location. Straying outside these bounds will result in a cumulative damage effect until the death of your current physical existence.
“Next up is group lots!” One of the guards shouted. “Most of you should know the drill by now! As this is what you Travelers call a group dungeon, three make up a squad. Survive, bring out your trophies displaying kills, highest group stays off the equalizing block.”
The bindings keeping us tied down dropped away. I reached up and felt along my neck for a heavy bracing that hadn’t really been noticed yet. The weights around my ankles and hands were gone as well. I looked around but no one seemed to be taking advantage of the freedom to rush or attack mindlessly.
We slowly formed lines, with a startling level of organization given our [Criminal] status. I tried not to flinch away as the other people bumped into me. They weren’t bigger or anything, especially considering my Hermes character had an insane amount of [Brawn], but they could have been crazy, or backstabbing. Plus my clothes were beyond recovery. Maybe it was the reminder of my own clothes and their dried crusty status.
“What about the losers?” I asked the talkative guy. We had been getting along well enough for now. He hadn’t been revealed to touch young elves or murder hundreds of people. Both ideas seemed reprehensible to me.
“You can still come out ahead if you do well enough down below, or at least, try to break even with the death penalty.” He said.
I nodded then looked at the next message on my screen.
Quest: King Nero’s Offer Difficulty: Variable Details:
The king has made you an offer you can’t refuse. In order to atone for your failures, and ensure that other rule breaking Travelers suffer appropriate setbacks, you will be rewarded with twice the [Redemption] points for every other Traveler brought low,.
* Current Redemption Remaining for freedom: 7,000
“Worst case, take the easy out and die to a boss or something. Just don’t let another player get you.” He said.
“Why would they want us to kill each other?” I asked while shaking my head. It made no sense. They could have offed us all easily while we were bound in the cart. Based on what little I had gleaned, they had the option of setting our resurrection points in a kill box and fire walls of arrows down each time we risked coming back.
“Player versus player penalties are greater than dying to the monsters, and most NPCs killing us costs us nearly nothing but time.” He explained as we shuffled forward. The line moved quickly. People dipped hands in, pulled out their small looking piece of wood with a number on it, then walked off.
The unnamed, but helpful, person in front of me took a number out then sighed. I followed up quickly by sticking my hand into the dark pit of a box. There were tiny wood objects inside. I pulled my prize out and saw the two burned into its surface.
“Two.” I said while trying to run through scenarios. It put me, and two random people, ahead of nine others who would have reasons to kill us and take our success as their own. That put us behind one group, that might have laid down ambushes in their hour lead.
“I’m three.” The talkative man sighed. “Guess that means we’ll be enemies.”
“Oh.” I felt bad that he had helped explain things only to possibly be killed by my virtual swords. This may have been a digital world, but it looked real, and the pain was still hurt.
“That’s how it goes while you’re here, this whole thing’s a mess. At least, I get redemption points for explaining. Once inside, there’s no truces.” With that, he turned and walked away. After being broken into teams, our situation turned far different than I had thought it might. What had been at least a mildly professional relationship was cut off in the face of future conflict.
My eyes slowly followed the man as he moved towards a number on the ground. This place was almost like a box with starting positions. There were gates for up to eight teams, but we only had enough people for five in our convict band. Fourteen other people who might try to stab me in the back during this adventure.
Part of me expected these guys to be worse, or harder, or downright rude. Daylight might have brightened my perspective. It could have the pleasant feeling I got from knowing Xin was out there. They seemed intent upon serving their sentences as quickly as possible. It made sense, this was a game, not a hard core prison. Anyone who truly screwed themselves over could go play somewhere else, like Advance Online, or delete their character then start over.
“Group one, over here. Two, here!” The guard pointed towards another three spots for the other groups then started a long explanation. “Restriction crystals are active. Idget, I’m saying this for you since you keep trying to escape. Tampering will get you killed! Trying to escape will get you killed! Post-death regathering of your essence brings you back to the bus! You’re here until your debt is cleared!”
There was one more surprise waiting for me. The guard, who had been mostly covered, head to toe, in plated armor, lifted his visor to look at us. His face looked familiar enough that I had broke our shuffling silence to ask, “Wyl? Is that you?”
“You’ve no right to call me by my first name, convict.” Wyl responded.
I was floored. This was indeed the guard captain from [Haven Valley], and my time as William Carver, but what was he doing out here escorting prisoners of a completely different kingdom? Had something happened while I was gone?