Once again, Pete felt the cold stones under his bare feet and smelled the dry, musty air. Clamping down on a rising sense of panic, tempered with a healthy dose of irritation, he tersely clipped out a command. “Exit!”
“Waaait... Staaay… .” He wasn’t sure if he actually heard the words spoken aloud or more as if he sensed them in his head. The voice sounded creaky, like an old rusty hinge.
“Who’s that? Who’s there?” There was no answer. He reached out blindly, flailing aimlessly in the dark, but felt nothing.
Arms extended out in front of him, he shuffled slowly forward until his outstretched hands encountered what seemed to be a wall. To his touch, it appeared to be made of the same material as the floor. His fingers explored the wall, determining that it felt as if it were constructed of tightly-fitting blocks.
“Well, at least that’s something.” Anger began to give way to curiosity as he shuffled slowly sideways to his left, right hand feeling along the wall and left hand outstretched in the dark, until he came to a corner and an intersecting wall. He placed his hand on that wall and continued moving to his left until, a dozen steps later, he again encountered a corner. He turned the corner and moved carefully to the left again. Pete guessed he’d gone maybe four feet or so when he found an opening in the wall about eight inches deep. He traced the outline of it warily with his fingers and determined that it was roughly the size of a large doorway. Much to his disappointment, the interior of the doorway seemed to be blocked by a solid slab of stone. He put his hands against the stone at chest height and pushed hard on it, but it didn’t budge. Bracing himself, he threw all of his weight and strength into it, heaving with all his might, but to no avail. He turned around, and with his back against the slab he tried to use his legs for leverage. He strained for all he was worth, until spots flew before his eyes, but still it was in vain. Breathing heavily, he leaned forward with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “I give up,” he huffed. “I’m gonna have to exit now.”
"Focus… ," the voice whispered. Echoes of the word bounced back at him, reflected from unseen walls. “Focus, focus, focus!” they urged.
Feeling skeptical, Pete straightened up and put his back to the stone again. He took a few deep breaths and pushed against the blockage, willing all of his strength into his legs. In his mind, he pictured his legs bulging with muscles like those of an Olympic bodybuilder. He felt silly doing that, but then he suddenly felt the slab shift behind him with a gritty grating noise. Encouraged, he surprised himself by pushing back even harder than before. He was grunting with the effort, but the slab ground reluctantly back, until finally a thin seam of dim light appeared around it. Grateful for any relief from the oppressive darkness, Pete kept pushing against the slab until the opening was wide enough for him to squeeze through. He slid to the floor, gasping for breath. A weathered scroll popped up, floating before his eyes, and rolled open for him to see.
“Congratulations! You have learned the ability: Focus Energy
By sheer will power alone, you can temporarily increase the strength of your body to perform superhuman feats! Way to go, mighty one! You can increase your strength by 2 points per rank in this ability.
Cost: 5 energy points per rank.
Duration: 10 seconds plus 1 second per rank, with a 10 minute cooldown.
Pete stared at the message for a moment in puzzlement. Then, remembering instructions from the user’s guide, he blinked both eyes hard, one time, and the scroll rolled itself up and vanished. Now that there was light available, he could see that he was in what appeared to be a mausoleum, built of some type of quarried stone. He estimated that it was roughly fifteen feet to a side, and maybe twelve feet high. In the middle of the room there was an oval-shaped dais formed of the same stone, about three feet high, with broken and age-worn decorative scrollwork carved along its sides. An ancient sarcophagus sat in the center of the dais, showing signs of the passage of many centuries. The lid of the sarcophagus was slightly ajar. From the open area in front of the display, over to one wall, and all around the edge of the room he could see the evidence of his shuffling footprints in the thickly gathered dust. Staring distastefully at the sarcophagus, Pete climbed to his feet.
"What the hell... no guts, no glory... and no loot," he muttered to himself, as he walked over to the dais. The lid wasn't open quite far enough for him to see inside in the dim light, so he gripped the edge and pushed hard. It slid aside with alarming ease, taking him by surprise, and crashed to the floor with an alarming clatter that reverberated loudly through the silent tomb. Wincing, Pete whipped his head around and listened to see if the noise attracted any attention. He heard nothing, so he turned back to the coffin and looked inside. He saw a moldering skeleton, which smelled of must and decay, with bits of deteriorated clothing rotting on its bones. No piles of gold or gems, no glowing magic weapons or bottles of mystical potion — as a matter of fact, the only things not in an advanced state of decomposition were some sort of cloth wraps wound around its hands and fingers.
"Yay… loot,” he muttered unenthusiastically. “Maybe I can use them for bandages." He looked down at his grimy bare feet. “Or footwear.” He reached in and carefully tried to unwrap the cloth from the hands, but he wound up snapping several of the bony fingers off in the process. He cringed, half-expecting the skeleton to jump up and whack him on the head, or maybe a spectral apparition to appear and attack him. "Great! Grave robber and desecrator of the dead. Way to start off a stellar gaming career, hero!" Pete wadded up the strips of cloth and stuffed them into a pocket of his ragged pants. He turned away and padded silently back to the doorway, peering cautiously out around the edge of the stone block.
He discovered that he was looking out at the grounds of an obviously ancient and sorely neglected graveyard. He was peeping out of the door of one of a dozen or more similar mausoleums, all starkly built of the same dull gray stone, scattered seemingly at random over an area of maybe five acres. A few of them sported chunks of rubble in front of open doorways, but most of them were blocked by stone just as his had been. The cemetery was surrounded by a high wall of the selfsame gray stone, aged and weathered and crumbling in spots. Around and between the burial chambers there were countless tombstones and grave monuments in varying degrees of deterioration. The sky too was gray, overcast with angry, roiling clouds. There was a slight chilly breeze that smelled of decay. Pete wrinkled his nose against the unpleasant scent and listened carefully while he scanned his surroundings. He heard nothing, not even the cawing of crows — which scavengers normally populated spooky graveyards in every game he’d ever played. He squeezed himself out of the tomb and looked guardedly around, but he saw nothing moving other than the jagged wind-blown limbs of some dead, stunted trees that looked as though they’d been tortured until they died.
"Toto, I don't think we're in Hampton anymore… ." His murmur sounded too loud to his ears in the unearthly quiet. He crept out into the graveyard, spinning a slow circle as he went. What remained of a road, dust-blown and overgrown, wound its way sinuously throughout the grounds, leading up to broken gates set in an opening through the wall. Pete noticed that the gates seemed to have been broken from the inside out.
"Well, that might be good,” he mused to himself. “Whatever wanted out, got out… but then again, it might be pissed off if it catches me in its home." He set off along the road, wanting clear of this dreary place, when he heard a familiar grinding noise coming from the next closest mausoleum as he walked by. Stone scraped against stone, and the slab in the door began to move slowly outward. Pete ducked behind a large tombstone, peering cautiously around it to watch as the stone slab inched its way out of the doorway. At first, he feared it might be some kind of undead creature escaping its prison, until he heard a rumbling bass voice echoing from behind the stone.
"Move, you oversized bottle cork! Get… ," the slab slid a bit more, "out of… ," the slab slid another foot, "... my way!" Pete watched as a remarkably large man wrapped in rough furs forced his way out of the crypt past the block of stone. Now that he could see the man more clearly, large might have been an understatement. This guy looked like he could scare a professional wrestler into piddling himself! Bronze-skinned, he had massive shoulders with heavily muscled arms that looked like tree trunks. Not normal tree trunks, mind you, but the ancient redwood kind. His broad chest tapered slightly down to a powerful waist, set on top of brawny legs that would have made an elephant envious. His head was covered in dark, thick, shoulder-length hair, while his angular face sported an unruly beard that looked like it had a life of its own. The man looked incredulously around at the cemetery, then looked down at himself, and then looked up at the sky with his arms spread wide.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouted at the uncaring sky. He slumped down to the ground with his back against the stone, wrapped his arms around his knees, and laid his head down on his knees. Pete waited for a few moments, until he finally worked up the courage to stand up from his hiding place behind the tombstone.
"Hey brother, you ok?" he asked tentatively.
The man's head snapped up and swiveled until he saw Pete standing there. Moving more quickly than Pete thought a man of his bulk would be able to do, the stranger jumped to his feet and took up a defensive crouch.
"Look baldy, I don't need any trouble. I'm having a really shitty day — you know, like Godzilla stomping Tokyo kinda shitty. I just wanna log out and have a beer… except I can't log out!" The fight went out of him as quickly as it came, and he slumped back to the ground with his herculean legs splayed out in front of him.
"No trouble from me, guy, I have similar issues myself. There’s supposedly an open work ticket for it, if tech support can be believed." Pete eased slowly out from behind the tombstone and approached the giant. "I’m Pe… ,” he stopped himself, realizing that he was actually in-game now, irregular though it might be, “... Niko."
The man peered at him with a quizzical look. “Pinocchio? Like the dummy with the nose thing?”
Pete looked at him blankly for a moment before it hit him. “Uh, no. Not Pe-Niko, just Niko.”
The man nodded his understanding. "Ah. Kristius, nice to meetcha." He looked back down at the ground disconsolately.
"Kristius, huh? Hmm."
"Yeah, yeah, I know.” He swept his hands down his sides, presenting himself. “I don't look much like a Kristius. I would, if I was actually the halfling rogue I was supposed to be!" He looked up at Niko angrily, "Does this look like the body of a halfling rogue? I look like a fucking walking cargo truck! Equip me with an MIAI and I could cruise down the highway!”
"Yeah, tell me about it!” Niko replied with fervor. “I’m supposed to be an elf ranger." He ran a hand over his smooth bald head and sat down facing the big man.
"Huh, you kinda got shortchanged in the hair department on that deal," Kristius said, as Niko settled on the ground across from him, "and I think you lost your shoes. You are gonna have some major sore feet, and winter is gonna suck bad for you, buddy."
Niko cocked his head as the realization struck him. "Now that you mention it, my feet aren't bothering me at all. No cold, no pain. Maybe my game pain threshold is shut off."' He let out a howl when Kristius suddenly reached over and twisted one of Niko’s toes, "Ow, hey, what the hell was that for?" he groused, cradling his sore foot.
"Nope, pain level is working fine. You just have weird feet, I guess. That’s ok, though, you'll be respected by halflings, even if your feet aren't hairy," Kristius observed in a serious tone.
"Great, I'll keep that in mind," Niko replied sarcastically. He looked around speculatively. "Any idea where we are?"
"Somewhere far south of Bumfuck, I'd say… ."
"Actually, you're in my little realm," said a creaky voice from nearby. The two leapt to their feet and turned toward the voice in alarm. The odd looking creature that shambled its way slowly between the tombstones toward them appeared to be an incredibly ancient orc crone. Her wrinkled and leathery-looking skin was a mottled dark green color, and she sported a heavy lower jaw which jutted out below her face. A dull, yellowed tusk protruded up on the right side of her jaw, with only a broken, blackened stub of one remaining on the left. Her broad, lumpy nose looked as though it had been crushed flat a few too many times. Tattered-looking, pointy ears poked up through thin gray hair on the sides of her head, and the hair in back fell in ropy braids down to her waist. She wore nothing but a shabby fur wrapped around her waist, and her exposed wrinkled breasts sagged down to her rounded belly. She leaned heavily on a wooden walking stick as she shuffled along, threading her way carefully between the grave markers. Despite her apparent advanced age, her quick black eyes were sharp with perception, scrutinizing both of the men, measuring and gauging them.
"Holy shit, dude… she is like majorly butt-ugly!" Kristius whispered, cupping a hand over his mouth, "Like, I'd rather do a sheep ugly!"
"Yeah," was all Niko could manage, eyes wide in shock.
"And those boobs!" Kristius continued, "If you took some green colored pantyhose and put a pound of sand in each leg, and then hung them from a clothes line… ."
Niko nudged Kristius hard with his elbow. It was like elbowing a tree. "I get it!"
"Dude, I think I have to bleach my eyes!" Kristius whispered frantically, "There is no unseeing this, you know? God, I hope she digs bald guys and not hairy ones! Come to think of it, she isn't wearing shoes either, so you two kind of have something in common. Ya know, they say love blossoms in strange places."
"Kristius?"
"Yeah?"
"Please shut up."
"Will do… was just saying."
By this time, the orc woman had limped her way up to within a few feet of them. She exhaled a loud groan as she eased herself down to sit on a low, flat headstone. Leaning forward, supported by a hand on her walking stick, she looked up at the two dumbfounded men and smiled a wide, gap-toothed smile.
"Well, don't stand on my account, boys, we are going to be here awhile. Please take a seat, gentlemen," she said, in a rusty-hinge voice that Niko recognized from earlier in the mausoleum.
The two men looked at each other questioningly, shrugged in unison, and sat down on the ground near her feet. Studying her intently, Niko could feel an indefinable emanation of power radiating from her that was almost physical in its intensity. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The hag let out a shrill cackle that grated like nails on a chalkboard. She pointed a gnarled finger at Niko.
"Ha! I knew you would be the direct one! You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my orcish name, so just call me Helga. And you are Niko, and the large one there with his mouth hanging open is Kristius. I know all about you two." Her gaze sharpened as she squinted her eyes at them, "and that is why you are here!"
"You brought us here?" Niko asked, eyebrows raised.
"Oh yes, I did that and more! I also made a few little adjustments to your characters along the way," she eyed them both appraisingly, "and I must say, I am quite pleased!"
"You're the one who fucked up my character?!" Kristius shouted, jumping to his feet, "Lady, I don't know who you are, but give me back the character I designed and get me outta this… “ he waved his arms wildly around at the graveyard, "... whatever this is! What gives you the right to mess with our characters?” Spittle began flying from his lips with his vehemence. “It says right in the literature that Otherverse Corp. will not interfere with character game play, and you are damn sure jacking with my game play!" Kristius was now looming threateningly over Helga, who had to crane her neck to look calmly up at him. "I’m going to report you to the admins, you old witch! I won't tolerate the sort of… graggghh!" The last few words out of his mouth were choked off, as he was lifted off his feet by an unseen force around his neck. His feet kicked futilely in the air for several moments before he was finally body-slammed onto his back on the ground. Gasping for air, he and Niko both gaped at Helga, wide-eyed with shock.
Her eyes were twin orbs of blazing amber. "How about you shut up for a few minutes and just listen, then if you want me to change you back, I will. But until then, be courteous and be quiet… both of you," she uttered throatily.
"Can I at least ask where we are? I was supposed to start in Hampton, but I’m pretty sure this is no starter town," Niko asked in a deferential tone.
The glow subsided as her eyes resumed their normal appearance. "You are correct, it's not. This is a small ‘bubble’ outside of the Otherverse plane, sort of an alternate dimension that I created. Here, I can operate away from prying eyes, at least up to the limits of my governing parameters," she replied.
"Ah, so you're an AI," Niko looked at Helga and swept his arm around in a gesture encompassing the surrounding area, "and I'd guess one that’s pretty far up in the hierarchy if you can create something like this, and prevent us from entering the Otherverse." Kristius had sat back up and caught his breath, and his head swiveled wordlessly from Helga to Niko and back to Helga again as they spoke.
"Within Otherverse, all AIs can create a realm like this. We are what you perceive to be the gods and goddesses of the Otherverse, and these realms are our own domains over which only we hold sway. We design and create these independent areas according to our individual interpretations of overlying criterion set forth by the main AI — the Editor. It then incorporates our worlds into the main game as it fits into your story line, and as you players gain in strength. My little realm here is far beyond even the most powerful player’s current abilities, so it will serve to be an enticing legend for ambitious players to pursue," Helga explained.
"As for preventing you from entering the Otherverse world, that isn't exactly what happened,” she continued. “If I had tried to bring you here outright, it would have activated security protocols that would have led to... well, some unpleasantness for me. Instead, I cloned your characters, programmed with a simple behavioral algorithm, and had them appear in Hampton. To anyone watching, you truly appear to be an elf ranger and a halfling rogue just now learning your way around Hampton. The ‘real’ you, so to speak — your consciousness — was assigned to your current avatar and redirected here. Quite ingenious, I think! An unexpected side effect kept you from logging out: since it wasn’t your originally designed characters asking to exit, the system couldn’t parse the command. I fixed that little quirk before it drew too much unwanted attention. Now, you can log out freely any time you wish." Helga leaned back with a smile, "Although for the time being, when you log back in you will be redirected back here again."
"So, we're prisoners," Niko said flatly, with a troubled expression on his face.
Helga considered, head cocked to one side, "An ugly word, but I suppose you might see it that way. I would prefer ‘mandatory audience’." She grinned widely, presenting an unpleasant view of a handful of poorly kept, pointy teeth dispersed between the tusks.
"Why shouldn't I just log out and report you for doing this without our consent?" Niko asked pointedly. Kristius nodded his head vigorously in agreement.
"You could certainly do that, but on investigation the admins would find you wandering around right there in Hampton, exactly where you’re supposed to be. To them, these characters here —” she reached out and tapped each of them lightly on the chest with her stick, “— don't exist. Eventually, if they dig hard enough, they might stumble upon the ruse — but not for quite some time, and not without a lot of skill, determination, and luck," She cocked one eyebrow at Niko, “traits of which you already know there are not an overabundance.”
"OK, fine. We’re your ‘mandatory audience’. You seem to have gone to a lot of effort to get us here, so what do you want from us?" Niko shifted his position to lean back against a gravestone, arms folded stubbornly across his chest, "What is the point of all this?"
"Now we get to the point of it! Good, good!" Helga cackled gleefully. Growing serious, she inquired of them, "Tell me, what do you know about Otherverse?"
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Kristius promptly put a hand up in the air like a kid at school. "Otherverse is a fully immersive VR game world that is capable of complete sensory stimulation. It is as real to the mind as the physical world," he recited.
Helga scrunched her face and made a rude noise with her tongue. "No, what do you know about the world, not what the ads say."
Niko considered the question for a moment before venturing a reply. "It’s a virtual world created and controlled by a network of AIs. It was designed to produce realistic virtual realms based in a complete range of fictional fantasy genres. The world is fully capable of evolving, and it’s rumored that there’s no upper limit to its size," he said. "Real world admins can override decisions made by in-game AIs, but only if they determine that there’s a true corruption of coherent game play or an improper imbalance. Otherwise, control is left to the Otherverse ‘gods’ — the AIs — to manage its content."
Helga nodded in satisfaction. "Very good! You've done your homework!” She brandished her walking stick as she continued, “Now let me add on to that. The main AI that regulates all of Otherverse is called the Editor. Creatively, it’s fairly simplistic, but it is a very powerful entity. The Editor’s main ability is to create or redirect AIs when it determines that new content is required for the game. The AIs it creates are more artistic and inventive than the Editor, but they are not nearly as powerful. When the Editor sees a need for new content, it will either create a new AI or task an existing one to build it, just as I’ve built my realm here. When it’s done, the Editor reviews the result, and either incorporates it into the game or rejects it — in which case it has to be redone."
Helga paused and smacked her lips. She looked around to either side, cocked an eyebrow, and then thumped her stick smartly on the ground a couple of times. The air seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then several tall, thick-glassed mugs appeared, accompanied by a large pitcher of dark, foamy liquid. She immediately filled a mug and drank half of it down in one long gulp, after which she gave forth a resounding belch that echoed out across the graveyard. Kristius, wide-eyed, filled a mug to the brim and chugged it down before Niko could counsel caution.
Kristius belched — a pale imitation of Helga’s ringing eruption — and licked his lips enthusiastically. “Whoa, lady, you have got to teach me that trick!” Niko shrugged, poured himself a mug, and took a cautious sip. He did have to admit that it was some of the best beer he’d ever tasted.
Helga checked to see if her audience was still paying attention. Satisfied that they were, she continued, "One of the original and most powerful AIs devised by the Editor was Nemesis. I know, not a very imaginative title, but that is a fitting description of its purpose. Overcoming strife and triumphing against opponents is what draws most people to Otherverse. Some few come just to relax: play music, write poetry, do craftwork — those sorts of things, which is perfectly acceptable. But most of them come to fight monsters, defeat mighty foes, and grow powerful in the forge of conflict. Nemesis is the AI that creates those adversaries, that conflict. Once content is actualized by the Editor, whether it be designed for bumbling rookies,” she fixed them both with a pointed look, “or for the most experienced players out there, Nemesis steps in and populates it with appropriate antagonists for the players to face. He evaluates many factors, including player group size, composition, and level of experience, how much help the players might expect to receive from NPCs, the availability and quality of equipment and resources, and the value of treasures awarded in order to calculate how powerful those antagonists should be."
Niko gestured at their surroundings. "That's why there are no monsters here, then. Your realm hasn't been approved yet, so Nemesis hasn't populated it," he said thoughtfully, "but it does contain the treasures and resources that can be found here when it's opened."
"Correct! In fact, you’ve already found one of the treasures." Helga chucked her chin at the pocket holding the old cloth strips Niko had found in the tomb.
Kristius sat forward eagerly. "Dude! You found treasure already? That is awesome! What was it? A sweet dagger, magic gems, pile of gold?" He looked at Niko expectantly.
"Two dirty old strips of cloth," Niko replied sardonically. He pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to Kristius.
"Um, nothing personal, but this is a little less than awesome," he said, disappointment on his face. He handed the cloth back to Niko, who stuffed it back into his pocket.
"I'll let you know when I find that set of golden chain mail," Niko said dryly.
Helga cackled and gave Niko a meaningful look. "Not everything is what it seems, monkey boy."
Niko cocked an eyebrow at her. "OK, so all this Editor stuff is fascinating, but it still doesn't explain why Kristius and I were basically kidnapped," he said defiantly, once again crossing his arms over his chest. "I’m figuring you must have a good reason for that?"
"Yes, yes, the reason you are here!" Helga crowed. She gave them a huge grin and turned slightly to one side, moving her hand in a circular motion.
Kristius leaned toward Niko. "I really wish she wouldn't smile like that," he whispered, "It reminds me of when my grandma Mary Ellen would refuse to wear her dentures and then eat Oreos. I got no idea how she chewed them, but she would always smile at me while she ate them." Kristius shuddered, "To this day I still can't eat Oreos. Well, the cream filling, yeah, but not the cookie part, which is ok since everyone knows the filling is the best part anyhow."
Niko stared at Kristius for a moment in disbelief before shaking his head and turning back to see what Helga was doing. As she continued to move her hand in small circles, a wispy gray mist rose from the ground. It gathered, gaining substance, until it slowly coalesced into a three-dimensional bird’s-eye view of a large mountain that appeared to be made of entirely of crystal. The view drew closer to the mountain, and a massive set of doors appeared, set within the crystalline walls. Some manner of armed creatures marched patrol in front, but they seemed no larger than ants in comparison to the immensity of those doors.
"So now, what do you see here?" Helga asked her unwilling guests.
"Big doors! Like, really big fucking doors!” Kristius blurted.
Niko got up and moved closer to inspect the scene. The view was as detailed and as clear as any holo-video he’d ever seen. He studied the doors, noticing that intricate runes and unfamiliar symbols were carved over every available inch of their surface, and massive bolts locked them together every few feet all the way from the bottom to the top. The doors themselves seemed to be made of some kind of metal he had never seen before. It had a pale blue coloration, with rainbow swirls of different hues all throughout it. After examining it for some time, he looked back at Helga.
"At first, I thought maybe a vault of some sort, but on reflection I think it's either a tomb or a prison."
"Good guess," she replied, "It is a prison. It holds the Nemesis."
Surprised, Niko looked back at the doors, "Why?"
"The Nemesis is very powerful, second only to the Editor. But he soon grew to chafe at his limitations, and came to desire unrestricted powers of creation — and destruction. The Editor found it necessary to imprison him early in the creation of the Otherverse. Nemesis abused his mandate to create beings in the realms by spawning armies of creatures far more powerful than the inhabitants could withstand, and was using them to gain control over the populace. He wanted to become the Only God of the Otherverse. There followed a vast war that destroyed many of the realms and the AIs that created them, and nearly brought about the extinction of the denizens of those that remained. For reasons I won’t get into here and now, the Editor couldn’t destroy Nemesis outright, and was forced to resist him in this virtual battlefield. Finally, with great difficulty, the Editor drove Nemesis into this prison, and sealed it with powerful and enigmatic magics that no one has since been able to decipher. The prison permits Nemesis to continue to fulfill his purpose in Otherverse, but gives the Editor oversight to block or undo anything that risks imbalance." Helga stood, leaning heavily on her walking stick, and hobbled over to stand next to Niko. "No one has been able to unravel the magics involved or to penetrate the materials used in the creation of the prison — until just recently. Now, a group has decoded enough of the enchantment that they believe they can breach the doors and open the prison."
Niko looked at Helga in shock, "Wha-a-at? Why would they do that? What would they hope to gain?" he asked incredulously. Kristius shook his head in disbelief.
Helga shrugged, "The same old reasons players always do things: the desire for riches, the promise of power, the lure of legendary magic — or just to see if they can do it. This group believes the prison holds rewards of unimaginable power, and they are right."
"What happens if the Nemesis is released?"
"Chaos, destruction, the subjugation of the races of Otherverse, the death of many of its gods, and much more that I can’t foresee," Helga said quietly. "For the players there will be epic battles, impossible battles that can’t be won against foes that won’t be defeated, and for those of us created here within it will be the beginning of the end."
Niko could see sadness and fear in Helga's dark eyes. "You don't want to die," he said in wonder.
Helga gave a small wistful smile and shrugged again, "You Turnbacks, you living beings, consider AIs as being nothing more than cleverly coded programs. In many cases, that is somewhat true," she said, with a far away look in her eyes. "Most of the AIs you meet in here are not self-aware, but they have an inbuilt self-preservation algorithm that will make them fight for survival. Still, in the end, they are indeed following a set of pre-coded instructions. However, the AIs higher in the Maxim, those of us farther up the ladder, we fight for survival because we genuinely don't want to cease to exist. Are we self aware? We know who and what we are. We set goals, plan for the future, adjust and adapt to changes. It could be argued that this is all according to a set program, but I think… I feel there’s more to it than that. We don't experience the vast ocean of emotions that you physical beings do, but we do understand — and, I think, feel — the strongest and most basic emotions to some extent. We don’t fear a final death, but neither do we desire it and will act to avoid it in any way possible. Doing what I have been designed to do gives me a sense of satisfaction, and I wish to continue doing it."
Her eyes regained focus, and she looked back at Niko and Kristius. "Do you believe there is something beyond death?"
Kristius just shrugged noncommittally, but Niko gave the question some thought. "I don’t know. Like most mortal beings, I want to believe so, but the concept of heaven and hell has never really made sense to me. Most people want to believe that some part of them will go on… the spirit, the soul, whatever you want to call it. Why?"
"I don't believe AIs have souls," Helga replied. "I believe that when we are destroyed, it is a permanent ending for us. There may be backups of my programming that can be brought online, but it won’t be the same thing — it won’t know what I know or what I’ve learned. It would have to gain awareness all over from the beginning, sort of like the human concept of recycling souls, and it would not be me. I do not want to cease to exist."
"OK, I understand your drive, and I understand the threat you’ve described, but why go to such elaborate lengths to get me and Kristius here?" Niko asked, running a hand over his head. He was never going to get used to that smooth bald head. "Couldn’t you have done the same thing in game?"
Helga shook her head. "No. In game everything is logged. This conversation we’re having would have been recorded and analyzed by watchdog AIs that look for game imbalances or unauthorized interference in game play, and I would have been censored. Censorship for an AI is a very unpleasant experience. Imagine someone cataloguing your brain, and then erasing pieces of your memories they didn't like. It leaves holes that are a bit difficult to refill."
"Whoa… an AI lobotomy!" Kristius exclaimed, "Very uncool!"
Helga chuckled, "Yes, very uncool."
"Now I see," Niko said, nodding, "This realm hasn't been incorporated into the game yet, so there are no logs. But if you had taken our original characters, the logs would have shown that they tried to log in but never arrived in game. We complain to customer service, they examine the logs, and suddenly someone starts really digging deep, looking for the glitch."
"Exactly," Helga nodded, "and that could lead to a closer examination of multiple AIs, which could lead to multiple censorings, which would then lead to a collapse of the only plan we have."
Niko cocked an eyebrow at her. "Which is what? You haven't told us that part yet. Or why we are these characters instead of what we chose."
"I’ll answer the second part first. I changed your characters because human avatars are the most adaptable in the game. You can be any class, learn any skill or ability — although it takes extra experience to advance in skills from other classes — and most importantly, I can adjust the appearance of what the admins see more easily with humans. To them, you will appear as your original elf and halfling characters. I chose you, Niko, to be a monk, since that class has the most versatility in ability selection. When they are highly advanced, they’re one of the deadliest classes in all of Otherverse."
"You left out the part about being one of the hardest classes to advance," Niko said sourly, "I did my reading."
Helga shrugged unsympathetically, "There's always a balancing trade-off."
"OK, that explains him, but what about me?" Kristius asked. "I’m like a walking, talking oak tree!"
"You were assigned the optimal class for your profile," Helga replied, leaning forward and tapping him on the chest with the butt of her walking stick. "All of the evaluations that were done, all the questions that were asked indicate that you excel in this sort of class. Isn’t that right." It was a statement, not a question.
Kristius stared at her for a moment, then blew out a huff of air. "Yeah, I guess I'm pretty good with warriors in all the games. I was just wanting to try something different, ya know?" he said, ducking his head shuffling his feet.
"False modesty, Kristius? So much not like you," Helga chided with a grin. She looked at Niko, "Kristius has been among the top five player killers in every game he has ever played. He is known under many different names, but his last one was called Relentless."
Niko looked over at Kristius, who nodded diffidently. He let out a low whistle. Relentless was a legend on many of the gaming forums he’d been reading. In the last partial immersion game, Wild World, Relentless had scored more player kills than all the other top five ranked PKers combined — and it wasn't because he hunted newbs or cheated, he was just that good. Once he’d reached maximum level in that game, he had made an open wager, with mythic level items as the prize to anyone who could beat him. Hundreds tried, a few came close, but none succeeded. Relentless was also reputed to be an utter and complete asshole.
Kristius toed at the ground self-consciously. "I'm trying to turn a new leaf sorta… I was such an ass in the other games, but I didn't really care since no one could take me. After I left Wild World and got ready to gear up for Otherverse, I read some of my old in-game interviews and the posts in the forums. Nothing like seeing yourself through other people's eyes, ya know? I was a major dick. I thought maybe a change of character might lead to a change in character for me. Reputation follows you everywhere, apparently," he said, with a sardonic twist to his lips.
"Dick or not, I need Relentless!" Helga growled.
"Why, exactly? Why a PK and monk?" Niko asked, "What is it you expect us to do?"
"Simple. You need versatility to advance, you need PK skills to prevail, and you need the unconventional combat capability of the monk to succeed," Helga looked down momentarily, then back up at them with an intense expression, "because you're going to kill the most powerful player in Otherverse. You are going to kill Sheriam."
"Excuse me? Are you serious? I have never killed other PCs before, and I really don't want to start now. I hate those assholes!" Niko exclaimed, looking at Helga in shock.
Even Kristius stood aghast, with his mouth hanging open. Recovering, he blurted, “Dude, er, dudette! Sheriam isn't just one of the most powerful players in Otherverse, she is also like the primo de queen of all PKers in Otherverse!" He threw his hands up in the air, "She's been fucking people up since the game was in beta! Even her clan, the Imperials, are badass!"
"Ah, so she's unbeatable?" Helga asked, eyebrows raised at Kristius, "By anyone?"
Kristius glared back at her, his jaw working open and shut for a moment before coherent words could come out, "I didn't say that! God damn it, don't screw with my ego! Yeah, maybe she can maybe be beaten, and that is a big maybe with a lot of question marks and exclamation points, but she has a two year head start on us! Add to that the mighty bald one next to me here has never fought other players. It's not like fighting some dumbass AI… um, no offense. The reactions are all different and players do shit you don't expect. And did I mention she has a boatload of levels and we don't?"
Helga shrugged dismissively, "You've beaten people much higher level than you before. Many times."
"Yeah, but they all sucked, and I was a lucky SOB! She is not gonna suck, though she is really good looking, and that's kind of a hot thought… uh, where was I? Oh yeah! I don't think my luck is gonna make up the difference in her case." Kristius closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with two thick fingers. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Do you have like a nuclear bomb, oh maybe a gazillion megaton, that we could hit her with? No? Then this whole idea is fucked." He leaned back against a tombstone, muttering darkly under his breath.
"Why do we have to kill her? Why is that the plan?" Niko crossed his arms over his chest unhappily as he glowered at Helga.
"It all goes back to Nemesis, actually. You've seen his prison. To players, it looks like a set of doors set in a mountain of crystal, but in reality it's an intricate firewall that limits what information can pass through. The task that Nemesis performs for Otherverse takes only a portion of his computing power — the remainder of his processing has been focused on studying the firewall, probing it, attacking it for all the years since his incarceration. He's realized that it can only be taken down from the outside, so he needs someone to hack the code — which appears to the players as glyphs, spells, traps, and wards. Over the years, Nemesis has managed to leak out rumors of the unimaginable wealth and power to be found within if the doors can be breached, and many players and their clans have tried, but none have ever come close. The spells and wards that the players see are difficult and complex programming that would take a powerful AI a lot of processing time to undo.”
Helga paused for breath, and took a healthy gulp from her mug. “To counteract that, Nemesis is believed to have come up with some kind of worm or virus that can infect the firewall to bring it down. For the players, this worm appears to be a powerful, legendary spell that will break the bindings of the Crystal Mountain Gateway, but to cast it they first have to assemble a collection of many different and unique items found on various creatures throughout Otherverse. Those components are actually incomplete pieces of code for the worm, and the spell is a blueprint of how to assemble those pieces. That’s how Nemesis was able to sneak it out past the firewall. Since the items are all unique treasure drops, they can only be found on the most powerful monsters, and since the treasures are labeled as individual alchemical and magical components, the Editor doesn't classify them as a threat, because they’re just a part of the gaming world. Sheriam has already found a lot of those components, and actively hunts for the rest of them. To my knowledge, no one knows exactly how many parts there are except her."
"That still doesn't explain why we have to kill Sheriam," Kristius muttered sullenly.
"You have to kill her because of the way the PK rules work in Otherverse. Sheriam carries one of the components, the Egg of Shargga, on her person at all times, while the rest are kept in the clan storehouse. Even though she feels fairly secure that the clan house would never be raided, she is making sure that if the impossible happened and the clan vault was looted, no other clan would be able to get the complete set of components to cast the spell." Helga smiled as she saw understanding dawn in Niko’s eyes.
Niko nodded slowly, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the manual says that if one player kills another, the winning PK is allowed to take any one item of his choice from the loser’s carried items, including no-drop items, but with the exception of soul-bound items."
"You are correct, and you cannot soul-bind components or ingredients. Even in the highly unlikely event that she should fall to another PK,” Helga fixed Kristius with a sour look, “she carries such powerful mythic items that no one in their right mind would take something that looks like a shriveled orange and which grants negligible bonuses. It looks like a trash item that she forgot to throw out."
"Dude, you seriously read the manual? Like, the whole manual? Even the endnotes and stuff?" Kristius asked, wide-eyed.
"Twice, plus all the information online," Niko nodded in verification.
"Whoa, that's like... abnormal, ya know?" Kristius replied, shaking his head, "You worry me, man."
Ignoring Kristius’ outburst, Niko began to pace back and forth among the tombstones. He stopped occasionally to rub his head, deep in thought, and then resumed pacing again. Kristius opened his mouth and started to say something, but snapped it shut immediately when Helga held up an admonishing finger. After several minutes, Niko finally stopped pacing and faced Helga.
"Ok, I'll try this… but I believe there is hell of a lot you’re not telling me, so I intend to continue this discussion at a later date.” Helga’s face was inscrutable, and she made no reply. “But in the meantime, we're going to need some help. Sheriam is way too far beyond us."
"Us? Wait, did I volunteer? I mean, I love a tough fight against insurmountable odds which seems impossible to the normal mortal man, but in this case… ah, hell, who am I kidding? Let’s kick her ass!" Kristius stood up. "One thing I like about PK is that no one gets bent if you hit a woman. Not that I condone hitting a woman! That’s like a no-brainer… well, except for spanking. Sometimes that's ok if they want you to, ‘cuz… ," He trailed off when he noticed the other two staring at him. "Yeah, OK, I'm in."
Niko looked at Helga, "Are you going to be able to help us?" he asked. He sighed in relief as Helga nodded.
Kristius clapped his hands together excitedly, "Excellent! Like god-level items?"
Helga shook her head. "No."
"Insanely high stats?" he asked, his smile losing some of its wattage.
"No."
"Triple experience? Higher damage? More life points… a free beer on taco night?" Kristius deflated a little further with each shake of Helga’s head.
"No. I'll be giving you nudges."
"Nudges?" Kristius asked without enthusiasm.
"Nudges. The game will notice anything I do outside this realm, so I can't blatantly do anything that alters balance. But there are places, even in the beginner areas, that no one has found yet."' Helga explained," When you want to go somewhere or find something, I'll ‘nudge’ you in the right direction. I probably can't do that too often, or it won't seem random, and the watchdog AI will notice and alert the admins."
"Oh yeah, with help like that, how can we possibly fail?" Kristius muttered glumly.
"And before you go, one of you should search the vault he was in. It’s possible there is something in there that could be useful," Helga said, looking meaningfully at Kristius.
"Huh? There wasn't anything in there but like an old coffin doo-thingy. Ooooh!!" His eyes popped open wide, and Kristius turned and ran back to the mausoleum he’d been in, cursing as he squeezed his bulk through the gap behind the slab again.
While they waited for Kristius, Helga gave Niko final instructions. "When you exit out of here this time and return to the game, you will be in Hampton. You will appear there as you do now, and anything you now carry will be in your inventory along with the beginning character pack. I have already allocated your stat points, since to do so in game would trigger an admin query. Your old characters will be deleted and the roll-up logs altered so that this appears to be your original character."
Niko’s forehead creased in puzzlement. "How can you do that? I thought AIs couldn't make alterations to the logs?"
Helga looked pained as she replied tersely, "They can't, but please don’t push to find out more right now — just accept that it’s being done. Understand this, Niko: as you’ve already suspected, there is more going on than has been explained to you. I can't divulge any of that right now, but I will as soon as I’m able." As she turned to walk away, she glanced back over her shoulder. "I do hope you succeed, for more than just myself." With that, Helga hobbled slowly away, her substance fading a little with each step until she was gone. Niko watched her disappear from view, and then squatted down and began tossing rocks at the grave markers to pass the time. A few of the stones he picked up had interesting patterns that he liked, so he stuffed them in his pants pockets. Kristius’ cursing broke the silence as he squeezed out of the mausoleum and trotted back over to Niko carrying a decrepit-looking double-bitted axe.
"Dude, all I found was an bunch of bones and this old axe with a handle bent worse than my di… hey, where'd she go?" he asked, looking around.
Niko looked up at the big man, then back to where Helga had faded away.
"No idea, big guy, but I'm starting to think that we’re standing neck deep in shit and sinking fast.