6
I asked Sage about practising my Stealth ability as we moved through the forest, and she said it would be a good use of my time, but we would arrive at our destination later than anticipated. I decided this was a worthwhile trade off and did my best to both creep and tread lightly through the trees. The skill certainly enhanced my abilities beyond the norm, and I found myself much more comfortable with the slow, careful steps that were necessary to avoid noise on the forest floor. Still, I was no Army Ranger, and twigs and small sproutlings were routinely made victim to my untrained feet as I went. My health bar slowly refilled as we went, and to my relief, I slowly felt the pain of the scrapes and bruises I’d acquired fade into non-existence. I saw yellow dots on my mini-map that scampered around beneath the trees, and I found that they were small animals, like little chubby squirrel-type things with high, pointed ears that my HUD identified as Turbits. They had what looked like a stripe of small leaves sprouting from their speckled grey and brown fur. They were skittish, and darted away as soon as they saw or heard me coming. Sage helpfully informed me I could adjust the mini-map to display neutral creatures of a certain size or larger to avoid clutter, but I left it where it was for now.
As I moved carefully beneath the trees, I used the time to quiz Sage on some of the aspects of the game.
Yes, she was saying. I’m permitted to discuss certain information relating to the functions and generalities of the game, though I can’t reveal information specific to you or this location until you unlock data through progress.
I thought about this and nodded to myself. “Right, the ‘Fog of War.’ Does it have a range?”
Yes. At present, your mini-map has an effective range of twenty metres. That is 65.6 feet, in imperial measurement. It is my understanding that your native country adopted the metric system, but still utilised the imperial system in everyday parlance, such as discussing one’s height or weight.
“True,” I replied thoughtfully. “I know I’m around six feet tall, and I weigh about 170 pounds, but I couldn’t tell you my height in centimetres or my weight in kilograms. That’s just not how we talk about it, even long after we started using the metric system.”
That would be 182.8 centimetres and 77.1 kilograms, respectively. In conversation and the delivery of information, I’ll try to predict when each measurement is more appropriate and use that. Is that acceptable?
“Sure, though it might be confusing for your viewers. Do your space-cult overlords use the metric system? Or some weird thing you created yourselves, like Cubits?” I asked, pushing on my boundaries a bit. Then a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Wait, I asked suddenly, stopping in the midst of moving between two trees, slightly alarmed. “can people hear…er.. access our internal conversations? Like, any time?”
Concerning your question about measurements, I’m not permitted to provide many details about life outside the game, Luck. I’m sorry, I know you’re curious by nature, but you’re better served by focusing on your progress.” Her tone was conciliatory, though firm. As to our conversations, anything you say out loud to myself or anyone else is recorded and accessible to viewers, as is anything you do outside of a Shrine of Elaris, or in the event that Privacy Mode is active. Our internal conversations are not subject to viewer scrutiny, though a log is created in real time and may be viewed by showrunners.”
“Shit,” I said reflexively, out loud this time, then sighed in resignation. “I guess it’s par for the course.” Sage didn’t comment on this, but instead offered more information.
While we’re on the subject, Luck, I’ll explain the visual element of the program, as it’s something that should inform your actions to a certain degree. I have up to 8 stealth camera pods that I can deploy at any time to provide viewers with an array of viewpoints in nearly any given situation. Pods are also distributed liberally throughout the environment so viewers can access multiple locations while they follow the action. There are also POV first handers that see the world directly through your eyes, though this mode is less popular than others.
The thought of people seeing the world through my eyes was a thoroughly uncomfortable one. It would be the most intimate level of scrutiny I could imagine, and I was at least partially relieved to hear that it was an unpopular way to watch. Still, I was going to have a hard time with that one. “So, you have camera pods operating right now, then?”
I currently have 3 of my personal cameras deployed, which is sufficient for our immediate environment. The most used mode by viewers, by far, is Narrative Mode, which uses predictive algorithms that access multiple cameras in the area and then utilises cinematography intended to replicate the experience of viewing a film. Viewers are granted access to multiple camera angles that operate simultaneously, and they are able to switch to any of these viewpoints at any point should they elect to view the action manually. I am permitted to inform you that, at present, there are 126 viewers following your progress, though only one is viewing your experience first-hand.
The number of viewers reminded me, unfavourably, of some of the dive bars we’d played back when I was in the band. Sometimes we’d be lucky to draw twenty or thirty people on any day that wasn’t the weekend. Our biggest crowd had been around 12000 at a travelling music festival for indie bands. I had long since outgrown my teenage desire for recognition and acknowledgement from a crowd of strangers, and the idea of being recorded in general didn’t bother me much, but neither did it excite me. Nobody signs up for perpetual surveillance, but I didn’t have a choice. At least nerves wouldn’t be a problem. I was always nervous before a show, but as soon as we hit the stage I’d be overcome by an almost euphoric sense of calm. Oddly, some of the most peaceful moments of my life had been right in the midst of screaming guitars and crashing drums. I’d be savaging the strings of my Telecaster, lost in the throes of the almost involuntary movement that emerges in response to the energy of the song, and deep in my mind I would sink into a reverie. If you can find it, there is a strange and beautiful silence at the heart of the chaos. Somehow the presence of the crowd combined with the joined efforts of the rest of the band would elicit this response in me. I recognized it as a kind of surrender; the release of any notion of the crowd’s scrutiny because the scrutiny was absolute. To be someone else in that space would be false, so I became a distilled version of myself. More free. Somehow, a truer version of myself, absolutely open and vulnerable, and that was, perhaps counterintuitively, a liberating experience.
“126, viewers eh? I guess I’m at the begging-for-subs stage of my Twitch career. Speaking of which, is there a chat for viewers? I can only imagine that would be sheer fucking madness.”
Yes, viewers can chat in real time, though you won’t be able to see this except in rare cases. The chat function is very popular, and impacts the game in very real ways. Your achievements are awarded as a result of viewers voting in real time. Viewers decide which actions you take are of note and deserve to be rewarded. The process is somewhat complex, but, in essence, the viewers trigger the achievement by initiating votes, which require a majority to pass. Each paying viewer receives one Achievement Token every 24 hours, so they need to use it carefully if they are switching feeds between players. They can use these tokens to trigger an achievement vote. There is a fixed amount of Achievements that a player can receive in a 24 hour period, so timing is also important when initiating a vote. This season’s Achievement limit is set to ten. Sage was all business now. Regardless of what she really was, she sounded a whole lot like an AI now. She went on breathlessly.The Central System determines the appropriate level of reward based on the difficulty or the uniqueness of the achievement. Then viewers are provided with an opportunity to vote again on the contents of a chest. Gold is awarded immediately and moves straight to your inventory, but chests containing items are delivered to your instance of the Shrine of Elaris. Chests are divided into common, uncommon, rare, epic, legendary, and divine variants. I believe you are familiar with reward systems that use similar distinctions.”
“Yep, pretty standard. Though, the idea of viewers deciding my loot makes me nervous as Hell. People are fucking fickle, Sage,” I said, recalling all the comment sections I’d ever been stupid enough to read. If you ever need a reminder of how doomed humanity is, spend some time reading the comment sections of your daily news stories.
I understand your concern, Luck, but it would be more pragmatic to view this reward system in relation to your performance. Statistically, players that cultivate a character, an aesthetic, a type of personality or a personal narrative have higher rates of reward. It’s in your interest to think of yourself as a performer, as something between an actor and an athlete. Your social media obligations are intended to help you cultivate a following in this way.
“Hold up. My what?” I asked, incredulous. “Did you say Social Media obligations? Like Tik-Tok or some shit? I have to run a god-damned social media account in addition to risking my life in fucking absurd circumstances? What the fuck, Sage?” I was pissed. The idea of pandering to a crowd of bloodthirsty dystopian superfans was about as appealing as a lobotomy. Sage ignored my outburst and went on as though I hadn’t said anything.
The showrunners like players to interact with their fans as often as possible. I will be operating the account on your behalf, so you don’t need to be concerned with micromanagement. Simply indicate to me when you wish to make a post and I’ll facilitate what you have in mind, provided it meets the appropriate standards. Using posts to disparage the showrunners will simply be filtered out by the Central System.
“This is bullshit, but fine. If it helps me garner more viewers and more chests, then I’ll swallow my pride and do the dog and pony show. So, what kind of posts am I supposed to make? Do I hope to go viral performing lame dances?” I asked with a sigh of resignation.
Posts are mostly videos, yes, but they’re meant to be relevant to your progress, your character, or your goals. Game-related content is standard, though to a certain extent there is room for self-expression.The showrunners have contracts with social media giants Glimpse, ViewYou, and TrendIt. These platforms are effectively the same in terms of function, with minor variations in aesthetics and the format of the posts. A single post can be applied to all three platforms, so managing individual posts for each is unnecessary. I am also able to employ editing and cinematography concurrent with modern film making, which will greatly enhance the quality of your posts. We can discuss what you have in mind, and together we’ll work out posts that are exciting and engaging. Sage seemed almost excited, her words picking up speed and enthusiasm slightly. Shit, I thought. She’s into it. Well, at least one of us is enthusiastic. I really had no idea what kind of posts I would be making. I felt awkward just thinking about it. The only thing I’d ever posted back home were pictures of myself and Abi together. I guess this time I would be documenting the misadventures of Luck the Hapless.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
I still had questions, so I dismissed my reservations for now and pressed on. “Okay, so do I interact directly with viewers? Like, through a livestream or something, sort of…narrating my progress while they watch? I’m really not interested in a perpetual monologue, Sage. I already have problems with monologues.”
I understand your concerns. While you can certainly address the viewers in real-time by simply directing your verbal speech at them, you can’t speak or interact with them beyond that. There is a consolidated comment section curated daily, and I can make the top 5 comments and replies available to you every 24 hours. I recommend checking these daily to get a feel for the viewers
“God damnit,” I said out loud. “Comment sections are absolute cesspools of stubborn toxicity, Sage. I don’t know what your world’s social media is like, but I imagine trolls are universal. I don’t need that shit. I avoided it at home for a reason. It’s like asking for a mental health condition.” I was unfortunately qualified to make this observation due to my own mental health challenges over the years. Aggravating already problematic symptoms was a recipe for disaster.
I can certainly tell that you aren’t thrilled by any of this, Luck. I was prepared for your reaction in advance, thanks to our records of your social media use on Earth. I assure you that I will assist you in this process as much as I can. She paused then, as though reticent to go on. I do have to inform you that the showrunners actually prefer a diverse array of comments, both positive and negative. Negative comments, while unpleasant, garner a high volume of engagement between viewers. Your daily comments display will include comments both negative and positive in interest of viewer interaction.
“Awesome,” I said internally, and my tone was all sarcasm. “On a faraway fantasy planet filled with magic and wonder, there are still keyboard warriors. It’s a shame they’re probably not worth any experience points, or I’d invite them planetside for a real chat.”
The use of keyboards fell out of fashion many decades ago, Luck, Sage said helpfully.
“Hilarious,” I said. I sighed then, dreading what was coming next. “Okay Sage, now we come to two very difficult questions. I think I know what the answers are, but I have to get it out of the way.”
I believe I can anticipate your questions, Luck. However, please proceed. I will do my best to be accurate and thorough.
I took a breath. “Alright. First: are the npc’s real people? Do they have thoughts of their own or lives that they live beyond this fucked up game?” There was a long pause, like Sage was thinking.
I know this will be difficult for you, Luck. While most creatures here, aside from extra-terrestrial outsiders, are either terrestrial humans or genetic constructs born of bioengineering, they are capable of independent thought. Many of the creatures, including most humanoid types, are indeed intelligent, sentient beings. They have identities, histories, lives, professions, families and everything else you might expect. However, circumstances on Feyhold change drastically once the World Spell has been cast. You experienced the casting of the World Spell when the dome of light passed through you. The spell is such that certain NPC’s are considered “God-touched” and function in predetermined or conditioned ways to facilitate certain aspects of the game. You could say that these individuals have their sentience temporarily suspended, or at least heavily modified. Among these are the NPC’s you would call “Quest-givers,” though there are many types, including certain mobs.
She let this sink in for a moment but before I could interject, she continued quickly, almost as though she were rushing. Some NPC’s are beloved by the fanbase and have garnered significant followings over the years. It’s been found that it vastly increases the dramatic tension when there’s a risk the NPC might die. NPC’s are not replaced, and this sometimes elicits strong emotional responses from the viewers. The showrunners have also managed to use extensive conditioning to achieve the desired results through cultural and religious interventions over the many years Feyhold has been operational.
The peoples here are effectively trained to expect the interventions and whims of very real Gods to be a part of their daily lives. Most of the “gods” are, of course, the showrunners, and they’ve cultivated the belief that, while the gods are meddlesome and powerful, they are required to work through mortal instruments to achieve their goals on Feyhold. The last time a large-scale multiplayer game season was hosted here was ten years ago, and the presence of the game always heralds great change in the terrestrial societies.
I took this in with rising anger and dismay. “That’s really fucked up, Sage. That means this is part social experiment, part entertainment cash cow, and part execution ground. Life is hard enough on people without an intergalactic space cult up in the sky playing god. It also means I probably have to kill these people. Probably a lot of them.” I said this with disgust, dreading the notion and feeling helpless as a consequence. I tried really, really hard not to think about what that was going to do to my psyche, or if I could even go through with it. “So, that answers that - in the worst possible way. Now for my second ultra-shitty question: will there be PVP?”
Yes. Player versus Player events are tremendously popular, particularly those classified as Death Matches. It is, unfortunately, inevitable that you will be tasked with participating in these events. The showrunners usually choose the matchups, but in some cases the participants are decided by audience vote. If you have intense conflicts with other Players, you can expect that at some point the audience will demand you face off in combat. It’s considered good form to force players to “put their money where their mouth is,” as you would say on Earth. These events often receive record-breaking viewership if the participants are well known.
I let her finish before I just lowered my head and sighed in resignation. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am not the kind of guy who was going to do well with this shit. Killing anyone was reprehensible and naturally shattered my ethical boundaries, but I had been hoping the NPC’s would somehow be artificial beings incapable of real pain. That would be too easy, and too boring to watch, I thought bitterly. This game was made thrilling by the prospect of real death, I knew. Blood and fury, the blurry asshole had said. They were going to turn me into a killer, and if I wasn’t fucking exceptional at it, I would be saying goodbye to my own life and everything I loved.
“I already hate this place,” I said out loud. “It’s fucking monstrous. I don’t know what I did, but you people are beyond redemption,” I shouted at the sky. Sage’s voice pulled me back from a precipice I hadn’t realised I was approaching.
Luck… use caution. Eventually your anger will have real consequences.
“Fine, but holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I really have to do this, Sage.”
Her reply sounded surprisingly genuine when she replied, Yes. I’m sorry, Luck.
I didn’t say anything. I had to actively deny these thoughts as I walked, or else I’d be lost in self-pity. Abi would be lost. There wasn’t any room for sorrow, not if I wanted to see her ever again. I moved on in broody silence, and Sage let me be.
As the afternoon light slid slowly away, the world beneath the canopy of huge trees grew dimmer and more subdued. The air was growing cooler and the buzz and chirp of insects was more pronounced against the lazy drifts of wind that rustled through the trees. I crept slowly over the thick roots and through the leaves and branches of the small plants that dotted the forest floor, and on my mini map I saw a clearing display about twenty metres ahead, populated by a single yellow dot. I decided to put my Stealth skill to the test and edged towards the clearing slowly, sliding around the thick trunks of the trees and passing through the spaces between them as quietly as I could. It seemed I was so far successful as the dot on my minimap remained still.
As I rounded a tree, brushing lightly against the rough bark, a huge, dark figure came into view. Its antler-crowned head was bent low as the creature drank from the small pond that was a mirror to the sky above, its surface rippling out from the beast’s muzzle as it drank. I saw a quick notification flash and then move to the bottom corner of my screen, glimmering gently, awaiting my attention. I ignored it, my gaze locked on the beast. As I focused on it, the hud’s indicator, normally a simple circle ringed with slowly rotating arcane glyphs, blinked into existence, but this time it was surrounded in an elaborate ring of golden leaves, waving gently in the digital wind.. This reminded me of the way most games marked Elite mobs, but that fact seemed unimportant now. Its name and species were simply marked as “Unknown.” It was no mere stag. Far larger even than a moose, it dominated the clearing in such a way that a palpable sense of authority radiated from it in waves. This thing was like something out of Princess Mononoke.
There was an otherworldly beauty to the creature that was captivating in the truest sense of the word. It was huge, at least two metres at the shoulder. Its antlers had to be nearly a metre tall all on their own, and they seemed to be made from twisted, reaching tree branches that were covered in patches of heavy damp moss and dotted with leaves. Its neck was thickly furred but erupting from the fur was a mane of multi-hued autumn leaves that echoed the green and red maple trees that grew in the backyard of my childhood home. They were in the hues of mid-October. Rich browns and sun-burst reds, bright yellows and fading, yet verdant greens; the leaves hung down around its neck and muscled chest like lion’s mane. Its huge hooves looked almost to be made of rough-hewn stone, as thick as my calves, chipped and cracked like a cliff face. Enthralled in a way I’d never felt before, my breath was coming quick and shallow.
Luck… I heard distantly, a soft woman’s voice reaching out for me across a vast distance. I heard more murmured words, sounding more insistent but drifting so slowly, slowly away. It didn’t matter now. I felt bodiless, floating; awash in the sheer splendour of the creature’s presence. I found myself inexplicably leaving the safety of the tree I’d been hiding behind and walking slowly, reverently, out into open view. I approached the edge of the clearing then, emerging through the late afternoon beams of sunlight that pierced the canopy and filled the clearing in light that was absolutely ethereal; an iridescent presence all its own, filled with twirling and twisting dust motes that glimmered and danced around me. The world felt so slow and dreamlike, like I was drifting on a soft, warm breeze. The smell of the creature was dense moss and decaying wood and rich earth. When it moved, it creaked, like an ancient tree bending in the wind. As I edged out of the trees and into the open space, the stag lifted its head from the pool, and I saw water drain away in rivulets from a long beard made of pure lichen that hung from its wet muzzle. Its brow was feathered in green shoots of grass, and it regarded me from behind eyes that were like ancient, glacier-scraped sapphires. The blue of those eyes was total, and the gaze seemed to command me to be still; and I was still. The creature stepped forward, only a metre away, and in honey-drip slow motion, lowered its head, as though inviting my touch.
Disbelieving, I felt my hand lift towards the stag in trembling reverence, reaching out, inches from its lightly furred brow. It snorted softly and lowered its head further, nearly to the ground, and I was suddenly ringed in the tree-like branches that made up its crown of antlers. My fingers chased its head as it went down, and somewhere far, far away, a yellow dot on my minimap turned red. I was still reaching for the creature, enraptured, when the motherfucker snorted loudly, disdainfully, and exploded into motion, surging forward. The thing was a massive blur that smashed into my abdomen like he was a freight train and I was a Geo Metro stalled out on the tracks. The legendary headbutt sent me literally careening through the air in a long horizontal arc that shot me straight between two of the huge trees that ringed the clearing. I then transformed into a spinning GTA-style ragdoll that flopped and bounced across the forest floor before I finally rolled to a stop. My vision was pulsing red, and my health bar was bottoming out fast; draining fast from right to left and straight toward nothing.The woman’s voice was there again, calling to me insistently from across an invisible chasm, and I managed to croak out a groan that sounded like someone kicked a bear in the nuts. I felt the metallic tang of blood fill my mouth as I half-choked, half-coughed. I looked up through my fading, blur smeared vision to see those unfathomable eyes, those twin ancient sapphires, set alight by tiny blue suns that burned hot and bright within the crystalline orbs. They were absolute, and calm as stone; as steady as the weight of the earth as it hangs in space. The eyes were measuring me, saturating me in an all-encompassing wave of judgement that was unrelenting in its pursuit of truth. My truth, I thought, as darkness crawled over my eyes. And I have been found wanting. My consciousness shrank to a single point of glimmering sky blue light, and then into nothing at all.