Leo’s first death on the wall was a scouting mission. It was easy to see the culprit. The warrior in green, a dervish of steel with a bored expression that drove back the horde of undead. The player’s blade flashed and Leo felt the burn of holy silver as the blade bit once! Twice! Thrice! into his exposed bones, the third causing his hollow skull bone to depart from his neck bone and clatter back down the stairs where more of his undead brethren were mindlessly marching up the stairs to their second death.
Well, second death in lore. They weren’t actually real, as much as Leo’s memories of camaraderie, and the hundred years of communal decay in the tomb of the Dark Lord Vel-Thar that filled his mind assured him that they were more than simple digital creation. Such an emotional attachment was a nice, if oddly placed touch. A lot of places would call giving the undead that sort of emotional baggage a waste, but that was just part of how Nights Darkest Day liked to operate.
They also took umbrage against defensive measures that worked too well. Tactics were nice and all, but on NDD, you should be valiantly fighting a losing battle, trying to save what’s important to you. Heavy emphasis on “losing battle.”
Winifred: You can see why we called you.
The game's Agent sounded in his head with a regretful air. Winnie preferred to deal with things like this himself, rather than call in an Echo, but the rules of engagement had his hands tied.
All figuratively, of course. Agents didn’t have genders or hands. While legally distinct from an Artificial Intelligence, companies still toed the line to keep the AI Wars from returning. And that meant Agents like Winnie having to hire proxies to come and interface in their place.
ShieldOfLeonidas: Yeah, this nut’s a tough one.
ShieldOfLeonidas: Have you tried NOT throwing minions onto his sword?
Winifred: :eyeroll:
Winifred: Plot, you know?
Winifred: Somehow, Mr. Green there managed to make this whole attack a single objective of combat.
Winifred: That’s not supposed to be possible. We’ve got it flagged and hopefully, some of the meats will take a look into this on the other side. Nothing looks like an exploit on my side, but if they have found a repeatable way to do whatever this is, well, then I’ll be the laughing stock of the others in a week!
Leo smirked, a hard thing to do without a current body, and even harder when your most recent form had no lips. Winnie cared more about their social status with the other servers than any of the other Agents did. Someone rankling the genre was horrible, with no cycles of thought given towards the new interest in the game that could be sparked.
Judging an Agent’s foibles wasn’t what the Parent Company was paid for. Not this time, at least. Back to the matter at hand.
ShieldOfLeonidas: Okay, I think I have two options for you.
ShieldOfLeonidas: First, let me just check: does his story have any established villains or anything?
Winifred: Man, wouldn’t THAT be useful.
ShieldOfLeonidas: So that’s a no?
Winifred: That’s a no, correct.
Winifred: Well, more of a “not that players know yet”
ShieldOfLeonidas: Okay, here’s my thoughts.
ShieldOfLeonidas When he reaches a reasonably big kill count
ShieldOfLeonidas: Not just big, but some landmark to make this seem like a scripted event, not retribution.
ShieldOfLeonidas: I come in
ShieldOfLeonidas: Either as a General or a Giant. If it's the general, then I need some decent gear and some player levels. I’m pretty sure he’s just procking off a quick kill, so if I step in and counter his blades a bit, his roll will slow and he’lll be ripped to shreds.
ShieldOfLeonidas: The giant is a similar thing. Change up the weapons and tactics, topple his momentum, and let the dice fall as they may.
Winifred: Okay, we can do that.
Winifred: And we can drop some villain lore at the same time.
Winifred: Stand by for respawn.
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Commander Lor-Cain felt the firmness of stone beneath his gauntlets and rose. Handmaidens, dead as he was, attended him, bringing cape and sword. He strode from his tomb, his steps the only sound echoing through the halls of stone.
He had overseen the placement of these stone walls himself, ages ago, commanding these same soldiers with the same exactness then as he demanded now. His men were as perfect now as they were then, if not better. Undeath allowed their obedience to trump the weaknesses of the flesh.
If his presence was required at the front, their need must be great indeed.
A squire brought the reins of Dorzaran, his mighty steed and a gift from Vel-Thar himself. A demon made horseflesh, there were no steeds in the world that held a candle near him, even when not taking into account the flames that burned within his heart, or the black, bat-like wings that could bring the beast and his rider to where they were most needed.
This day, that was a low stone keep, besieged by the forces of the Dark Lord, but held at bay by a sole man, dressed in green with a blade of silver.
ShieldOfLeonidas: Hey, any chance you could do an emotional aura on him?
Winifred: Oh, yeah, of course.
Invisible to Lor-Cain, but not to the Echo controlling him, the troublesome player was outlined in the light gray of focused boredom. Each skeleton faced presented no change.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Time to shake things up.
Leo reached for a horn on his belt and pulled it free of its clip. He had stopped worrying cycles ago about things like if the horn had been there before he reached for it. You trusted the Agent, and the Agent provided for the Echo. And everyone benefited.
Players included.
The signal horn sounded over the battlefield, the call to form ranks rippling through the horde. A flicker of orange, surprise, and then a swirl of light blue, curiosity, spun through the player’s emotions. An undercurrent of fear began to circulate through the aura as he beheld the source of the horns, of the Commander descending from the sky astride a horse of nightmares.
“So, you are the one who halts our advance.” boomed the voice of Lor-Cain. “You are an extraordinary fighter, one fit to fight alongside us. Join the armies of the Dark Lord Vel-Thar, aid us in uniting the world under his banner.”
Leo could feel Winnie’s uneasiness at the offer, and the player’s emotions were a cacophony of color. The gold of pride, the pink of confusion, the light blue of curiosity, the red of fear. The player was engaged, fully, for the first time in a while. The hour Leo had observed showed only the minimum engagement at least, and who knows how long the light gray had persisted.
Enough delay in the roleplay. And Winnie helpfully popped up a few dialogue options for the player. A small window manifested in Leo’s peripheral vision, a copy of the player’s listed prompts.
Commander Lor-Cain has extended an invitation to join the undead armies of Dark Lord Vel-Thar. How will you respond?
* “I accept your compliments, and will betray all I know to join your side.”
* “No Dark Lord rules my soul. While I still draw breath, I will defy you.”
* “If you wish to kill me, you’ll have to catch me first!”
Speak now your response, of these or any other words you choose.
It was cheeky, obvious how the story wanted the player to go. All led to death, even joining the dark side. A knife in the ribs with a whispered “Hail, Vel-Thar.” was Leo’s main plan, but he wasn’t committed to it, quite yet. It was a trite betrayal, and not quite as cinematic as he’d have liked. He wasn’t sure if the warrior in green was streaming, but a scenario like this was gold for advertising whatever new event this Dark Lord was.
The boy wouldn’t pick the betrayal, though. Leo was pretty sure about that. His build, however he had done it, was too perfectly aligned with going down fighting. The silver of resolve crept into the emotions of the player. It wasn’t quite the overwhelming certainty of a final stand, but the seeds of it were there. Good.
“A thousand of your soldiers have I cut down, and a thousand more will I dispatch before I fall. Your Dark Lord will hold no sway in this land, not while Evanil Lightblade still draws breath.”
A solid response. Leo could appreciate that. The delivery was a bit forced, but that was understandable. Hours spent butchering the defenseless undead didn’t really prepare you for roleplay. The speech was solid, though, and a true villain of NDD could only respond one way.
It’s hard to elegantly slip out of the saddle of a horse, even more so when it's flying. But bat-like wings can hide a multitude of sins. With a crash, the mail-coated leader of the local undead three-point landed in the courtyard in front of Evanil Lightblade.
“Then your breath will be taken from you. Prepare yourself, bleeder of blood and breather of air, for I, Commander Lor-Cain, will not be slain as easily as my brethren.” He drew a black sword, as black as night and held it lightly in one hand. The living warrior performed a salute, and the fight began.
A charge from Lor-Cain, the ebony blade a mere shadow in the dim light. A blade of silver, glowing with power intercepts and deflects, then is followed up with the same combination of attacks that has caused the grounds beneath their feet to be white with the powdered bone of the Dark Lord’s Third army.
Once! Twice! The silver blade cuts, but the blade of black interposes. It matters not to the warrior in green, as the Thrice! accounts for the position of the parrying blade and is unblockable by it.
By the opponent’s sword perhaps, but not from the six-inch blade in Commander Lor-Cain’s off-hand. The black sword beats back, and its silver opponent clatters to the ground. A kick sends the sword sliding into the mud, and a repositioning of the grip and a swing plants the poisoned dagger into the side of Evanil. He staggers backward, aura of emotion becoming visible again as combat is paused for the briefest moment. Shock and pain, fear and anger spin around him.
Winifred: That sealed it. I can pressure the poison mechanics as needed. I’m passing him the Final Note now.
Night’s Darkest Day was an MMO that prided itself in heroic death. The Final Note played into that. Leo saw the slightest flicker in Evanil’s eyes as the message must have arrived in his view. Black of despair and gray of defeat filled his aura, only to be replaced by silver and gold. The gold of righteous fury, and the silver of a clarity of purpose.
With the Final Note, a hero was promised that their death was unescapable, but did not have to be in vain. A surge of power would fill the player, and while they could not change their fate, they could change the fate of those around them.
Evanil Silverblade pulled the foul dagger from his side with his left hand. His right hand stretched out to the blade in the dust. A rattle, a shake, and the silver sword that had slain so many flew towards his hand, fingers closing around the familiar hilt.
“Breath enough for this, fiend. Enough breath for this.”
And Silverblade, footing shaky, stumbled forward and once, twice… Thrice! The silverblade performed the oft repeated combo, and Commander Lor-Cain, devotee of the Dark Lord Vel-Thar, had no dagger to parry.
For the second time in an hour, Leo’s skeletal head flew through the air and landed with a hollow thud, next to the collapsing form of a player that it took an outside consultant to best.
ShieldOfLeonidas: That was a fun one. You got it from here?
Winifred: Yep. Good work, Leo. Apparently your arrival turned this from some sort of low level record setting goal to a gaming news event. You knocked it out of the park.
ShieldOfLeonidas: Planning something big, then, are you?
Winifred: Maaayybee :evil-grin:
Winifred: I seriously can’t talk about what we’re preparing, even to Echoes. It’s gonna be big, though, and you dropped enough lore into the hype train to make this even better than we planned.
Winifred: A meat is passing a thanks back up the line to Parent Company.
Winifred: Don’t know if you’ll ever see that, but truly, thank you.
ShieldOfLeonidas: Just keep me in mind when it goes down. I love your vibe here.
Winifred: Will do! :heart:
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The light in Mandy’s office was bright and Leo winced. The difference between the Parent Company’s server and Night’s Darkest Day felt massive. It didn’t have to be like that, but judging by Mandy’s cruel grin, it was intentional. Worse yet, Leo noticed, he was still in the skeletal form of a soldier from NDD and had no eyelids to close.
It might seem incongruous, a skeleton to be sitting in a chair of what looked like any normal office building, but Leo had spent enough cycles in meetings to be used to it.
“You wanted to see me, Amy?” Leo said. The polite tone and the intentional use of the wrong nickname had the intended effect and the Agent’s smile turned into a scowl.
She gestured and a folder fell onto his lap. “We got a new Echo waking up. I’ve got him paused on a blank stage waiting for his greeter. And since you seemed to complain about Emily’s handling of the last waking, congratulations, it's your bag. All the info’s there. Get to it.”
With a grumble, solely because their relationship demanded it, Leo rose to his feet, bare bones tickled on the plush rug, and clacking against the hardwood as he moved to the door.
“Oh, and Leo?” He turned, empty eye sockets looking in her. “Good work on that last job. Winifred had nothing but good things to say, which is out of character for him. I’ll have the Agamemnon ready for you when you’re done with the newbie. You deserve some cycles off.”
He raised a hand in recognition and headed out the door.