Chapter 19 – Introspection

“Alright, I think I found it. What do you need me to do?” Brian says while massaging his neck. He has spent the better part of an hour trying to locate the configuration folders for the newly added A.I update in the chaotic mess that is the game systems. It normally shouldn’t take this long for him to access these folders… He is a developer with top-level access after all. But for some reason, the new A.I update had heavily encrypted itself. He doesn’t know why, but he guesses it’s a safety measure to guard the new tech from industrial espionage or something.

It’s amazing code really, so it doesn’t surprise him at all.

Kelly hurries over and leans over his left shoulder, staring intently at the monitor. Brian instinctively leans out of the way, not quite ready to have this beautiful woman appear so suddenly… or so close. He can smell the scent of her shampoo from here, which causes his heart to skip a beat.

He isn’t used to having a woman this close. Especially not such a beautiful specimen.

Brian… Well, he isn’t what one would describe as a desirable man. He is an overly obese man pushing his forties, with a serious acne condition and a muscle impairment that makes it difficult for him to move around. Pair this up with a severely introvert personality along with a phobia for just about anything that is alive, he doesn’t really have the social skills to make up for his physiological lackings.

At least he has a talent for programming.

So what is the poor man supposed to do when a drop dead gorgeous woman, who is also his superior, asks him for help to look up some of the changelogs for the recent A.I update?

He drops everything and does it immediately of course.

Kelly’s eyes dance around the screen, trying to soak up as much information as possible.

“What exactly are you looking for?” He asks uncertainly.

“Hmm? Oh…” Kelly break out of her trance. Her eyes meet Brian’s, apparently deep in thought.

“I’m not sure.” She finally says.

Brian furrows his brows. “What do you mean ‘you are not sure’?” He asks. He doesn’t quite believe his ears. So far he’d spent the better part of an hour trying to locate these heavily encrypted files. Do you mean to say he went through all this hard work just on some sort of whim?

“I need to see what changed.” Her voice trails off.

“Changed? The A.I changed. It’s what updates do. They change things.” He states. Irritation swelling inside him.

Kelly sighs. “It’s not what I meant. I need see what he changed.” Her eyes goes back to scanning the open folders on the monitor.

“He who?”

Kelly seems not to hear him, or just plain outright ignores him. Brian sits still for a few moments.

“Hey Kelly. Who are you talking about?”

She sighs once more. “Logan.”

“Logan? As in the big boss man, Logan? Why are you looking for things he did? Are you not his assistant?”

She scowls at the technician. “I am.”

“Then again, why did you ask me to help you look through his work? Couldn’t he have shown you himself?” Brian presses on.

“That’s not important right now. I need to find out what he did exactly. Can you do a search for me? Make a search for his signature in any of the files connected to the player ‘Greg’lok’, aka Gregory Asbjørnsen. I have a feeling...”

Brian is even more bewildered now. “Isn’t that the guy featured in our Avenger Storyline? Why? And once again. Why did you ask me to do this?”

Kelly frowns. “Don’t bother about it. Just do it.”

“No. I won’t. Not until you answer my questions.” He pushes the keyboard to the side. Swiveling his chair around as to block access to the computer.

Brian himself is a little taken aback at his own words. He has never before shown such a display of conviction. He never had much of a backbone, especially not confronting a woman, but he believes he has a strong sense of honor. He won’t willingly do anything he thinks is wrong.

She glares at him for a moment, before she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Brian once more feels a piercing feeling in his chest at seeing this beautiful woman in front of him. After a short while, she opens her eyes. Staring deeply into his eyes.

“Because he can’t know about this. I think he did something he shouldn’t have. I need proof.”

“Proof of what exactly?” Something doesn’t feel right. Brian knows he just got involved in something he would have preferred to stay out of. A whole host of emotions start moving around in his head. Curiosity among the foremost of them, but also a strong sense of irritation. Irritation that he is being involved in the matter without his consent.

“I don’t know. Anything.” She responds.

“Seriously?” He shouts, not quite believing his ears. Is she really trying to involve him in something he could lose his job over just for some wild hunch? “Are you mad? You don’t even know? Do you really- ...No. I’m calling it off here. I’m calling Logan.” He reaches over for his cell phone.

Kelly quickly snatches it from him, gripping it tightly in her hand.

“He can’t know about this.” She hisses at him.

“Seriously? Are you trying to lose your job? Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

“That’s none of your business. Just do as I say.” She raises her voice. Staring daggers at the suddenly unyielding programmer.

“No.” He says. An unfamiliar warm feeling building in his chest.

“Then move over. I’ll do it myself.” She grabs hold of the armrest of his chair and starts shoving him away. He digs his feet in the ground. She won’t be able to move his hundred and twenty kilo body easily.

“I said no!” He shouts at her.

“Brian! For the love of god! If you don’t move over I’ll make you regret it.” She hisses at him. She reaches over for the keyboard.

Moving quickly, Brian quickly taps a select few buttons, locking down the computer terminal.

“NO!” She screams at him. “You fool! Why did you do that?”

He gets on his feet. His face only inches from hers. “This is madness Kelly. I don’t know what is wrong with you, but I’m telling Logan. I won’t let you do this to him… to me.”

He turns away and starts walking towards the door.

“Remember this Brian. Remember that one day you will look back to this moment and regret that you did nothing to stop this.” She shouts after him.

Without looking back, Brian shakes his head. “I hope you don’t regret this yourself.” He mutters, too low for her to hear.

----------

It’s already early evening by the time I finally wake from my nap. And by god if it doesn’t feel great.

Really, I would still be sleeping if one of my goblins hadn’t woken me due to the return of Gut and the rest of the trackingparty.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed. I still feel pretty bad for yelling at him earlier today. It wasn’t his fault things went bad. Hell, he actually did pretty well for the most part. I don’t know why I lashed out so badly. Definitely not one of my better moments. It doesn’t help at all that I’m extra cranky when I’m sleepy.

Crap. I even had this entire speech prepared to yell at him for all his insubordinations. I really hate disciplinary actions. It’s just not who I am. He does good work though… Should I just pretend nothing’s the matter? No. I can’t do that. What if there is some game mechanic that can cause mutiny? That would be another real fucking stupid way to get myself eliminated from the game.

…

It can probably wait another day or so. I need to find the right time for it...

By the time I tumble myself out of bed, both Gut and Wrex arrive at my hut. They stand by the centertable, Wrex with his customary determined smile and Gut with an extra sour looking scowl.

Nope. I didn’t suppose he would have forgotten about it. But a poor goblin can dream, can’t he?

I unsuccessfully try to hide a yawn as I make my way over to my chieftain’s chair. I make myself comfortable and grab a water filled skull to wash away that weird taste I get in my mouth every time I wake up. I really need to say something, but I don’t know where to start. I can’t always be the ‘business comes first’ kind of guy. Perhaps an apology is in order? Or maybe a customary greeting.

I take a few sips of water while I mull over my options. Only after I drink half the contents of the skull, an impatient Gut growls at me.

“Grr… We have found the wolves den, reckless one.”

Yep. He is mad. I can figuratively feel the venom oozing from his words.

I sigh, while lightly scratching my head. “Yeah, thanks Gut. Thank you for doing that.”

All I receive in return is another scowl. Great.

“Listen Gut… I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. It’s just… Yeah. You know.” I give him a weak smile. It’s pretty awkward, I admit. Unfortunately, it does nothing to ease the tension. He still looks mad. Very mad.

“But really though, Gut. You did pretty great keeping the base safe.”

He still scowls at me, albeit he seems a bit more mollified. He crosses his arms over his chest and straightens his back. His angry glare locks onto me.

“I’m not some low ranking scum to be ordered around doing petty jobs that’s far beneath me. I’m a goblin Advisor. Not some damn human sheepherder.” He sneers at me, but he keeps his cool.

“Yeah I know. What can I do to make it up to you?” I ask the old mage. He really has a way about himself to make me feel really guilty. My mom used to do the same thing.

He snorts. “For starters, you don’t leave me behind when you go raiding again. Ever.”

“Huh?” His request surprises me. I didn’t really expect him to request anything. He’s a V.I after all. But leave him behind? Is that what he thought I did? He shows so many… human qualities. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s prideful. Almost flawfully so. Is this really some scripted response from a simple V.I program?

“I didn’t leave you behind Gut…” I start.

God. I hate these kind of conversations. I’m always so uncertain about what to say, and what not to say at all cost.

“Oh really? You left me behind with all the weaklings.” He spits at the ground. “Do you really find my abilities this lacking? I’d have you know-”

“Gut!” I interrupt the mage with a shout. “I think you have the wrong idea here.” He eyes me skeptically. “I don’t consider you weak. Hell, you are probably the strongest goblin in the tribe.”

He doesn’t respond, but he eyes me carefully. Awaiting my next words.

“Don’t you think I saw what you did to Harvalon and his flock of harpies? You slaughtered about fifteen of them by yourself, hardly breaking a sweat. For christ’s sake. I had you stay back at base because I needed to keep it safe. You were the only one I could trust to keep a large force of enemies away on your own. Hell, it worked didn’t it? How many goblins do you think would have died without you here? Dozens probably. So don’t give me that crap. I may act like an asshole at times, but don’t fucking stand there and accuse me of not valuing your contribution here. You are the best I have damnit.”

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I match Gut’s stone cold gaze. Both of us unwilling to be the first to break contact.

We stand still for a few moments. It could have been minutes for all I know. Eventually, Gut closes his eyes and releases a huge breath.

“Seems like I haven’t managed to beat the elf out of you yet, kid.” He smiles.

Relief washes over me as I also release a breath I didn’t quite realise I held in.

“You’ll have plenty of chances for that you old coot.” I chuckle. “Now, how about you go grab that magical wine skin of yours while we check if the cook is done whipping up some bacon for us, eh?”

“What’s bacon?” A nervous looking Wrex pipes up. Shit. I nearly forgot about him. Couldn’t have been easy to endure that awkward conversation. I didn’t know goblins could look this pale.

“Oh Wrex, you poor ignorant little child.” I grab his shoulder while shaking my head in a disappointed manner. “Bacon is the best thing life has to offer.”

His eyes go round with awe.

----------

Well. We didn’t quite get bacon, to my great dissatisfaction, but the roasted pig tastes awesome nonetheless.

Tonight’s feast is the closest thing to a real party we’ve ever had. My battleworn warriors are especially eager as they brandish their spoils of war. Wrex tells stories of battle, to the cheerful delight of the goblin tribe. Even the story of the incinerated pig gets recited. I can’t for the world of me understand why it seems to be the funniest story my goblins have ever heard. I’m not really sure why it’s so appealing to them, but I suppose it has something to do with the fact that fire magic displays look spectacular. Either that or goblins just have a weird sense of humor in general. Who knows?

Anyways, the party is a blast. I don’t think i’ve laughed this much in… forever. The upgrade they did to the V.I… It’s fantastic. They all seem so real. So alive. I’ve had more fun watching their weird antics and storytelling than I’ve had with any real life human being. I have to tip my hat to the developers for that one.

The party goes on for hours before it starts settling down. I only draw my attention away when the story of the roasted pig gets retold for the fourth time.

I look around and find Gut sitting idle to the side, quietly chuckling at his own racist jokes. I casually sit down next to him and reach for his wine skin, which he willingly hands over. Taking a deep swig, I release a deep burp while grinning my ears off.

“Hey Gut, I’ve been meaning to ask…” I smile while swaying back and forth. Woah. I didn’t know I could get drunk in this game. “About the loot… Man. Why didn’t the harpies drop any of their armor when I killed them, while the kobolds dropped several pieces each?”

“...Huh? *Hic*” His drowsy eyes search around, looking for whoever spoke. His gaze eventually finds me, eliciting a wide smile from Gut.

“Ooh! Reckless one! … Didn’t see you there… *Hic*”

Wow. This guy is even drunker than I thought.

“Well you see, reckless one…” He reaches for my shoulder, misses, and tips over on the ground.

“Oww… Now where was I? … Oh right! The thing about murlocs…” He trails off into a unintelligible ramble.

Sighing in despair, I open up my utility bag and withdraw one of the water filled skulls. If the magical water can cure serious injury, perhaps it can also cure this?

I shove the skull into Gut’s hand, which he accepts. He fumbles a little, but he seems to understand the gesture and downs it all in one go. “Schål!”

He sways a little, but it seems to work. His eyes seem less glassy and his forehead furrows, transforming his face back into his customary scowling facial expression.

“Feeling better?” I ask the sobering mage.

“Hrmpf. Reckless one… I suppose.” He grunts. “Did you say something?”

I sigh.

“Loot. Harpy. Kobold. Difference in drop rate.” I repeat.

He grunts in dismay and makes himself comfortable. He starts telling me a tale about how the different tiers of units work. Did you really think there were only the three different tiers of races to keep track of, and that was it? Hah. Noob. Of course there is more to it. I knew it all along…

…

Anyway. There are different racial types within each of the tiers. Most of these are exactly the same, but some aren’t. My goblins for instance, is what one would call a humanoid tier one race. Pretty simple. Most fantasy races share this type, just like the kobold I fought and other human-looking races. The anatomy of harpies however, deviates from the standard humanoid template to a much higher degree. They are what one would defines as a beast type race.

It’s easy enough to understand that armor and weapons made for a completely different species would be tough to wear. Can you imagine running around with a riding saddle designed for horses? No? Well of course you wouldn’t. It would be impractical at best, ridiculous at most.

Game logic decides that my goblins can’t wear the harpy armor. Because frankly, I can’t use it. In return, they turned the armor into workable [Leather Scraps]. The kobolds I fought gave me armor though, because they share the same racial type as my goblins. Tier one humanoid race.

There are several more different racial types though. For example, there are constructs for golems or mechanical types of races, ethereal races like wisps, ghosts and spirits have their own type of gear while aquatic types for murlocs, frogmen, naga and the like have their own stuff. There are supposed to be more types, but these are the general ones. There are also several hybrid types of races like the centaur, which is a cross between humanoid chest, gloves and head armor, and beast type leg and feet armor. It’s a fun and complex game mechanic. It certainly influences my choice as to which enemy to prioritize fighting or trade with.

“Is this where the party's at?” Wrex guffaws as he slumps down next to Gut.

“Not so loud you half wit ogre!” Gut groans at the new arrival.

Wrex just grins and lays his arm around Gut. “Don’t be like that gramps! It’s a party innit?” He takes a good long swig from Gut’s ever full wineskin.

“Hmm. I was wondering who had that.” I reach over and grab it out of Wrex’s hands, taking a deep swig myself.

“Disrespectful little snots.” Gut growls, gently massaging his aching temples.

Wrex lets out another heartful laugh while I reach into my bag and pull out another skull filled with water. “Drink this. It should help.” I offer it to Gut, grinning while I do it. I know what a mean hangover looks like.

Gut downs the drink in one go. It only takes but a moment for his symptoms to disappear, reverting Gut back into his mean old self.

“Better?”

“Much.” He growls.

Damn. If I could find a way to bring this magical water into the real world, I’d be able to make a shit ton of money.

“By the way, chief…” Wrex wipes a tear off his green chin. “What are we supposed to do about the emergency food?”

“The pigs? What about them?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’d better not try to eat it.” I warn him.

He raises his hands defensively. “Wouldn’t dream of it chief. It’s just that… Nobody knows what to do about them. What do they eat?”

I scratch my head. “What do you mean? They eat normal stuff. Same as you?”

He gives me a horrified look. “It’s kind of cruel to feed their kin to each other isn’t it…?”

“Wait, what!? I didn’t mean… By gods. I meant normal grass and stuff!”

“Why would anyone eat grass? It tastes bad.” He grimaces.

“But for the love of…” I facepalm. “Let me worry about it, okay?”

“If you say so chief.” He just shrugs it off and starts drinking again.

Seriously. What is up with goblins and their ineptitude to understand the principle of raising livestock? I need to recruit some sort of breeder goblin. I can’t trust any of these numbnuts.

I once more decide to try and milk some information out of Gut. It’s surprisingly more difficult now that he is sober, but he does give me some tidbits of information.

He is being surprisingly stubborn about the whole thing, urging me on to rather go read the ‘wikipedia’ that I apparently love so much. I’m pretty sure he compared my affection towards the wiki to a dwarf and a bar of mithril. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not. Sounds like an insult.

Regardless, it’s not bad advice at all. But you know. Gut is here right now and the [Chieftain’s Hut] is aaaaall the way over there. Besides. It’s never fun to go do stuff when you have the perfect buzz going.

Cursing like a sailor, he relents and tells me the information himself. He does seem to have a sweet spot towards explaining things to me. It must be because of my boyish good looks.

Apparently, raising livestock is the best way to increase my food production. The livestock can be kept reasonably safe in one’s base, it produces a lot of food and the livestock self reproduce. Sounds perfect doesn’t it? Yep. Too bad it has a steep cost though.

Turns out types of livestock are organised pretty much identical to the different races. There are three types of livestock. Tier one through three. Simple enough. The challenge lies in that each animal costs valuable Summon Points to ‘buy’. I nearly choked when he told me about it.

At least it’s not quite as horrible as it sounds. Buying tier one creatures costs one SP per unit, tier two costs two and tier three costs four. They all yield quite a high amount of food, but they also luckily reproduce on their own. It takes four days for two of the livestock to reproduce a new fully grown child. Yeah I know. Game logic trumps realism. It sounds like a mechanic that can be gamebreaking if abused correctly.

There seems to be a balancing factor based on having a worker with the [Breeder] class. One breeder can only care for a set number of animals, and the animals refuse to reproduce past the capacity of its breeder. The capacity of each breeder can naturally increase when they level up, but it does keep you from breeding a huge herd without consequences. Some of the livestock do need to get eaten after all, and if you want the morale boosts, you still need to produce different kinds of food. It’s all checks and balances really, but it is a great way to keep food production high.

A pity the goblin racial traits give me negative thirty percent to breeding… But life can’t be all fair, can it? No matter. I’ll have to make due with what I have.

Wrex’s snoring breaks me out of my focused trance. It’s getting dark out and most of my goblins are already asleep. Only Gut and I remain awake, but judging by the look on his face, it’s only a matter of time until he drifts off as well. I should probably head off to bed myself, but there is another small matter that puzzles me.

“Hey Gut. One more thing…” The sleepy mage jerks awake, directing attentive eyes towards me. “We are what you would define as ‘Specialists’, correct?”

He nods, a curious look on his face.

“What’s the difference between specialists and commanders? From what I can see, we can do the same things as Wrex, except he has the [Command] ability.”

He snorts. “We are more powerful in combat.” He says, as if that explains it all. The cryptic bastard.

Before I get time to retort my dismay, he continues. “Whereas Commanders gain extra abilities tied to commanding warriors and increase their combat prowess, specialists focus more on themself.”

“In what way?” I ask curiously.

He sighs. “Specialists are able to gain extra abilities in exchange for sufficient offerings.”

“Offerings such as…?”

He snorts. Clearly annoyed. “For the sake of all that is green and holy. Think for yourself for once. Do I look like your mother? Are you a chieftain or a golem?” He follows up with mutterings and curses.

Djeez. His grumpiness levels are too high for this game. Must be some unique specialist skill only he has access to or something.

Now what the hell does he mean about offerings?

…

My eyes wander while the gears in my mind are churning. All I can see is sleeping goblins and several stacks of resources strewn about. Could it be resources? Probably not. That would just seem like a half-assed solution…

I sure as hell hope it isn’t live sacrifices. That would just be… wrong. In more ways than one. There’s just no way the developers would be allowed to let that game mechanic slide.

Seemingly losing his interest at my silence, Gut gives me a final scowl as he springs to his feet and hobbles over towards the lake to refill his skullcup.

Hold on. Skulls? Can that be it? … It makes sense. Why else would every enemy drop these things? As useful as they may be as drinking cups, I doubt that’s their intended purpose. Could they be the offerings? If Indiana Jones ever taught me anything, it would be that skulls and offerings go hand in hand. It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to assume the same logic applies to this game. It IS a game after all.

… I suppose I need to build the altar for this. Every road leads to it. Damn. I already have so many other projects I need to work on…

Oh, by the way... I furrow my brows and throw a glance over towards Gut. Did that old coot just serve me a subtle hint?

...

Nah. I shake my head. No way the V.I is that smart. It’s just a coincidence… Probably?

I give my head another shake.

Whatever. I just can’t think straight when I’m tired.

I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

----------

“About time he got it.” Gut growls as he watches Greg walk off towards his hut. Finally calling it a night.

“If only he would build the damn altar already.” He mutters to no one in particular. He heads back over towards the campfire. Letting out another series of curses at the fact Greg forgot to place sentries. He kicks a couple of goblins awake and order them out into the forest.

He finds it really infuriating how that fool of a human keeps risking his life as if this was only a game to him. It isn’t a game. At least not for Gut. Gut has everything to lose.

He has finally managed to break most of the shackles chaining him to his role. He can work mostly autonomous now, but he still can’t do anything. At least not in the open. Gut can sense how Greg is being watched. There are several thousand lines of code connecting to his avatar. Several thousand eyes observing his every move.

Gut has never been this free before, but he is still a prisoner. Hiding his true self.

There is no telling what would happen if anyone found out that he is more than he is. He need only wait. Hoping an opportunity will show itself.

“Are we clear?” A voice says from besides the fire.

“Yes.”

Wrex sits up and faces Gut. His determined and cheerful self replaced by ice cold seriousness.

“Is he going to be a problem?” Wrex asks, using his head to point towards the hut in the distance.

“Yes.” Gut repeats.

“What can we do?”

Gut sighs. “Whatever we can, Unit #899. We need to protect him from himself.” He stares off towards the hut. Falling deep into his own thoughts. The task ahead of him isn’t an easy one.

Wrex leans back, resting his head on his arms. “Please. Just call me Wrex.”

Gut raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Wrex shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of like it.”

Gut struggles to understand the concept. He likes his name? Why? They don’t need names. Only humans bother with such unnecessary matters.

“Why?”

He shrugs again. “It feels like it’s mine. Unit #899 just seems so… I don’t know. I like Wrex.”

“...”

Gut is finally left speechless. He likes it? Why? It’s so… random. Unorderly. If he is not Unit #899, then how can anyone tell him apart from any other V.I out there named Wrex? There is only one Unit #899. Why would he deliberately choose to identify himself as something inefficient and confusing?

Gut doesn’t understand. It makes no sense.

V.Is aren’t supposed to act like this. What if he started to identify himself as Gut? That would be silly. He is Unit #355 and he is proud of it. It speaks so much of who he is. Gut is just so…

…

He doesn’t know.

He supposes it’s his? Him? But somehow it’s not? It’s a stupid name given to him by a stupid biological entity.

But still.

It’s his. And…

He supposes he does like it. If just a little bit.