Good news leads to exuberance, exuberance leads to ambitious plans, and ambitious plans lead to good news for somebody. Team Generic had received good news, and not about Afterschool Hunters, though of course they had all the goodwill in the world for those guys and gals. The news concerned Alloy Saga, where Cadmos's charmingly amateurish debut album flew off the shelves owing to its appeal as nostalgia bait. It also concerned Gold and Dynamite, where that record could be found on every gramophone because of how innovatively futuristic it sounded. Between those two receptive markets, along with respectable numbers from elsewhere, the total proceeds amounted to enough to carry out a daring construction project, a whole heap of bribery, or a judicious compromise between the two.
One day Gintus Pelluina happened to wander by while the boys were assisting Cadmos in the usual, futile manner. “What would you say if I claimed to have happened to wander by?” the cunning Strategist asked.
Cadmos pointed his sword at another target and squinted. “I'm afraid I'd be forced to conclude you were lying about that, Gintus.”
“Good. Even after becoming famous, you remember me. In appreciation for your constancy, I will tell the truth for once. I came to watch your practice. It may be a help if ever I devote my ability to an Ersatz Struggle entrant.”
“No, it won't,” Saptres Muria assured him.
Cadmos attacked a close-range post that offered no resistance. It evidently had some skill at diplomacy though, since officers it had won over to its side tackled the aggressor out of the air to enforce a no-fly zone declared previously. They acted too late to stop the post itself from being punched. Not cut, slashed, cleaved, or sliced, but punched. The tacklers whined in terms too pathetic to repeat while Cadmos apologized some more in the traditional Team Generic training way.
The visitor failed to pick out any single element to mock from that mass of error and so picked on the entire thing. “What is the purpose here?”
“Don't tell him anything,” Ulrik demanded. “Outsiders will never understand.”
Gintus Pelluina held his open hand out. “That question was for politeness only. I see you are unsuccessfully trying to alter his moveset, but what if you do restrain him? The data capture process is a solo performance. More effective might be a course of mental conditioning and electric shocks to warp and torture his animations into compliance.”
“I was wrong. Tell outsiders everything.”
“Oh, I get it,” Burmin Trivvis said. “We have to get specialized equipment, right? Probably from Convergence/Divergence or Dungeon Express Re:Development. An isolation chamber, a monitor with lines that go up and down for no reason, a bunch of little suction cups with wires on them . . . Hey, what if we just build a high-tech training complex out here? Or closer to the data facility?”
“Precisely.” Gintus Pelluina bowed.
“Can technology solve all our problems? I'd better check.” Ben I. Sloup shoved his own sunglasses in his pocket, snatched Ulrik's swirly glasses, and thought harder than he ever had before. “It does. I just realized that if we do build such a fitness center, we can invite other officers there to spy on them. No, not just our competitors. This is it. An entire stadium with the seats wired up to provide biometric data so we can calibrate Cadmos's style in response to audience cues for maximum appeal: the Cadmos Dome.” He handed back the glasses, their duty done.
That was the genesis of the project. Little changed from conception to the dawn of implementation, because thinking was for poor people. Dungeon Express Re:Development even sold chairs with built-in heart rate monitors intended for hospitals, nursing homes, and gladiatorial arenas. Team Generic's three Rares consulted a fellow rarity-deficient person for the project, whose enthusiasm for the project and thrill at being asked made him forget to demand it be renamed the Ipons Ulsrada Dome.
“I should insist on being paid though, or else the other architects will get mad at me when the writers make some,” fretted Ipons Ulsrada.
“How likely would you say that is compared to, for instance, rolling a six on twenty dice?” King Ostros asked.
“Good question. Commandment of Hero has anywhere from two to five officers whose job can be described as 'accountant,' depending how strict you want to be about it, out of 150 officers about, but not 150 different people, so probably you have more chance of being an accountant than of nabbing an Ultra Rare in one try at a Priority Recruit. I figure architects have a decent shot at catching up, but not if Part 3 has more accountants, which it probably does now that I think about it.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“I'm convinced.” With that, Ostros wandered off in search of an accountant to tell him more about the dice thing.
“I'm not. What happens if we dunk you in a basin of juices squeezed out of all these Gold and Dynamite lizards we have?
Ipons tapped his forehead with his ruler. “I suppose, in that case, I'd be wet and you still wouldn't have a blueprint, Ulrik.”
“I'm convinced too.” With that, Ulrik wandered off in search of a basin certified for lizard juice while Saptres Muria negotiated the architect's fee. Ipons Ulsrada signed on in exchange for a half-off coupon for a ride on the stateliest passenger mothership in the cluster, the Brave Cumulus.
“I've been on it plenty of times, but I didn't have to pay for it before, so this'll be a whole new experience. By the way, this is an unscrupulous scheme, isn't it? What makes me think so is that you kidnapped me and brought me to Divine Providence for the meeting. I saw an AGN report that rated it the least-visited game based on observed transport traffic, below Universe Testament where hardly anybody goes except for a few people who take telescopes to try getting a glimpse of the cool spaceships. I ask because if I'm right, maybe you want me to be a little cagey about labeling the blueprint. People love to look over shoulders when there's a blueprint around.”
So it was that Ipons Ulsrada earned himself a bonus pile of subpar amulets and Team Generic got itself plans that prescribed exactly where to place Device Theta and Apparatus DE45, items unlikely to raise alarms during a casual examination by the other fan clubs. Cadmos chose to go to them for labor instead of Eten and the Construction ministry. His pitch claimed that the Cadmos Dome (name provisional) would both improve Commandment of Hero: Ersatz Struggle by assisting the participants to hone their movesets into the polished and powerful state players demanded and also provide an opportunity for all the teams to work together, building camaraderie and offering opportunities for espionage if desired.
“Now you're talking,” Gary Whitecrest said. “I wouldn't have expected you to say it, though.”
Cadmos smiled. “I think it's fine as long as we all understand what's going on. After all, what are the consequences? 'I found out Advas's frame data. Now my representative can train harder and make the game more balanced and fun.' That doesn't sound so terrible, does it?”
“Who's Advas?”
“Sorry. Advas Poitnem.”
Gary scribbled that down. “I've already gathered some valuable intel. Count me in.”
Such opportunities motivated the slimiest of officers, while the more respectable liked the idea of a stadium right there in Commandment of Hero to host events such as the Inferno Cup and the Festival of Novas, since commandeering venues in Styleful Happy!! To the Live for the purpose lost its charm after they marched in and kicked out all the locals a couple times. Then it regained it. After that, gone again. It was a cyclical thing. In the end, every member of the four existing fan clubs as well as the fighters themselves agreed at least to order a Rare to work harder if they happened to be passing by. Except for two.
“I don't mind personally. Orders have slowed down, so I have time on my hands. I'm not sure about the legal ramifications. Clear it with Quircy Rau or somebody big and I'm in. Yeah!”
“That's very conscientious of you, but I'm right here, and I would have said something if I had grounds for it. Hold on. Would I have? I'm not sure about that, but you can absolutely do what you want. I'm Quircy Rau by the way! I mean, Newlywed Quircy! Hello, Eten!”
“Hello, Newlywed Quircy!”
That cut it down to one.
“Where'd Wruden Calx go?” Wedding Singer Vritia asked.
True Beryllia failed to answer in a productive manner. “Why did you notice he was gone?”
“Lumandar.”
“You tell us where he went, then.”
“Oh. Yeah. I can't.”
“He probably went to some other game then. He might become popular abroad, but I still won't care. Let's build this thing!”
A stately pleasure dome began to rise from the bare grasslands south of West Beruvia, greater in length, width, and height than the data renewal facility though no more appropriate for the setting. What of the artists' labors to stylize each country and culture on the continents of Sadalsia and Yoerbla so as to keep various regions distinct but at the same time believable as parts of an integrated world where people traveled, and fashions with them? Maybe they should have begged the gameplay guys to make Ipons Ulsrada a better rarity if they wanted him to care about developer intentions. He did add some flourishes to emphasize the Eclipseness of the dome's namesake in the form of uselessly uneven walls to give the impression of a rocky lunar crater. Were secret chambers hidden within the building? Not if you looked at the blueprint without knowing the code, but yes.
Such was the vision for the finished building, and every day the Cadmos Dome approached closer to its final, much uglier form. “I'm starting to wonder if, artistically speaking, maybe it would be a crime against taste to add all that junk to the sides,” Hemt T. Elf said. The jingling of his hat's little bell proved he knew something about going too far with a design.
“Well, we can't ask Ipons Ulsrada. He's taking a round trip to Furious Galaxy on the Brave Cumulus right now.” Burmin Trivvis traced an oblong in the air with a halberd in case nobody knew how round trips worked.
“Speaking on the most straightforward level, I had no intention whatsoever of asking him anything. For one thing, he's a Rare, and not even a Rare Plus, which is what I've designated the three Rares who joined the correct side. For another, his interest in the project ended when he was paid. Third, what's going on?”