Mark sighed as he took off his headset and sat up. He truly enjoyed the sheer...verisimilitude of the game, but sometimes wished he had direct control of his character. “Allbright” was far, far too naive. He never would have told that Effram character how he really would have handled the situation, let alone demonstrate his ability to chantlessly cast spells. That’s the sort of thing that should be kept hidden as a trump card. George was a little different, but even with him Mark wouldn’t have let it slip that he could almost instantly copy the appearance of someone’s spells. What was done was done though. At least he didn’t let it slip that he was a half-incubus. Mark thought to himself, making his way out to the living room.
The other thing bothering him was what Navia had said about PVP interactions. That could end up being a real problem. Mark thought. If I end up killing off another player I might end up with people stalking me over the course of multiple “lives”. Hell, considering the chunk of memories I acquired, I’d do the same. I should probably ask Navia how the whole “reincarnation” system works when I get the chance. I need allies, fast, I’m kinda digging this character build and I’d hate to lose “Allbright” before his potential develops.Speaking of allies...
Mark make a specific gesture and a holo-screen popped up in front of him. Much like the game windows, the screen maintained the perfect orientation and height for him to interact with it as he sat down in his recliner. He quickly entered his information and logged onto the subsection of the VRworld forum exclusive to his guild. Hopefully some of the others would have seen his posts by this point. Sure enough, there was some new activity.
[Elite Member: The_Great_Philosopher(Offline)]>
Yo man, saw your posts. 1: Holy shitballs, are you serious!? TAIs, memory suppression and Chaos can’t figure out the hardware? The fuck did you get into here? 2: Can’t join in until the public release, Early Access screening wouldn’t pass me. If there’s an alchemist class though, I’m in. Been getting bored lately anyway. Just keep us up to date with whatever you can.
[Elite Member: Holy_Arbiter(Offline)]>
Playing a caster again? So how are you planning to break this world eh, “Godslayer”? Ever since you started playing Aventus I haven’t had a chance to highlight my tanky might. Unlike poor Philo, I passed the screening. Haven’t booted up the game yet though, been waiting for the go-ahead. As long as this isn’t some deathgame crap again, I’m in. Should I go with my usual or do I need something custom?
[Elite Member: The_Doc (Online)]>
Hey, give me a PM when you see this, we need to talk.
[Elite Member: Eddie_the_Reaper (Offline)]>
Arbiter and Philosopher are nuts. Given what you said, I can’t see this turning out any better than World Arte did. Does anyone else remember that we had a 90% casualty rate there? C’mon guys, I know you’re all a bunch of crazy bastards, but remember Greenland? Ya know, the last time something went wrong with a TAI? Unless something changes the situation, I’m out on this one, sorry.
Mark nodded to himself. he wasn’t surprised that Arbiter and Philo were willing to join in. Arbiter was one of the few other people that had actually seemed to take a perverse sense of...satisfaction in knowing when you killed someone in World Arte, they weren’t coming back. Rodney generally tended to play some sort of paladin character, and he’d made it his mission in life to target PKers. Philo, on the other hand, was always a bit of a crafting nut. He wasn’t a fighter, but he was someone definitely you didn’t want to annoy. Philo usually managed to make some sort of abomination of an item that could turn the tables in a pinch. Mark didn’t think he’d ever forget the “Mk II Hentai Support Tentacle”. Who knew you could weaponize vampire fangs, Eldar nodules and stamina potions like that? Frankly he didn’t want to know what went on in that mind of his. He was a little disappointed that Eddie wasn’t on board; it never hurts to have a ninja or two on your side.
Finally, there was Doc. Without further ado, Mark sent him a PM, and moments later got a chat comm request in response.
Accepting, Mark spoke. “Hey, what’s up Doc?”
“Mark.” He replied, his bass voice sounding concerned. “I know the NDA won’t let you share the details, but was Philo correct in his guesses?”
He went to reply then froze. With a sigh Mark replied, “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“Well damn. Alright, different topic then. How’s the latest batch of pills working out for you?”
“Not bad.” Mark replied. “Lasts for about 12 hours and saves me the effort of focusing to suppress the synch distortions. Doesn’t leave me feeling off like the last batch did either.”
“That’s good news anyway.” Doc paused. “I think I might sit this one out. The implications of your post are, well, frightening to say the least. I've been running into some stuff happening in my line of work that might be related. Have you noticed anything odd outside of the game?”
“What do you mean?” Mark asked, both confused and a little concerned. Doc worked with a bio-engineering firm that developed various nanos for therapeutic treatments. The things that worried him were the stuff of existential nightmares.
Doc paused for a long moment. “I can’t say. I might be wrong anyway. Just...be careful alright? I’ve been seeing some really weird stuff lately.”
Now Mark was really concerned. “Anything you can tell me?”
There was a long silence and Mark knew Doc was testing the boundaries of his own NDA-enforcement nanos. Finally he spoke. “Think about the cause of Greenland. Think about your own post. Think about the world you’re not in. That’s all I can say.”
“Ri~ght.” Mark drawled out his reply. “I’ll do that. Thanks for checking up on me Doc.”
He chuckled. “You’re my favorite guinea pig after all.”
“Screw you Doc.”
“Talk to you later Mark.”
Mark closed out the voice chat and leaned back in silence. Greenland was where a lab was having a TAI perform nano-tech based experiments in eliminating the causes of various diseases. The objective was state poorly and the site had to be sterilized with high-yield nuclear warheads. I posted about the game being managed by TAIs in the form of various “Deities”, while people underwent a memory substitution that made them believe the fantasy world they were living in was true. Doc said the implications were “frightening” and he was seeing some “really weird stuff”... He thought for a while, trying to piece together Doc’s hints, but all he could come up with were wild speculations. After a while he gave up, sticking his ideas about the matter in the back of his mind.
Looking at the forum posts, he made a couple of quick replies.
[Elite Member: Godslayer (Online)]>
@The_Great_Philosopher: 1) I can neither confirm nor deny your suppositions. 2) Sucks you didn’t pass the screening, but glad you’ll be joining once the game goes public. I’ll try to keep you guys updated with whatever I can let out.
@Holy_Arbiter: Sweet! If you do the “choose your own” backstory, you might want to make sure your char isn’t xenophobic, racist or too judgmental. My char’s ancestery isn’t pure light-side this go round. I’m half elf, half incubus and I’m in the region of Shadewood, (Nice! that wasn’t considered restricted info) should be moving toward the nearest town or city outside the region in a week or two. Promo stuff’s true so far, no levels and skills/magic seem to rely on comprehension. I’d spend some time talking to the AI guide and consider carefully what deity you’re aligned with if you’re going the paladin route. Once you’ve got your character built, we should see what we can talk about.
@Eddie_the_Reaper: Fair enough, would love to have you on the team but this definitely is shaping up to be more than “just a game” so I don’t blame you. Keep in touch alright?
Mark signed off the forum and dismissed the window. Glancing at the clock, he figured he had another hour to kill if he wanted to synch with his character waking up the following morning. He spent some time surfing the net, then ate a snack and used the toilet before heading back to his Dive-Bed. Setting an alarm for 6 hours, he slipped on the headset, closed his eyes and spoke.
“Mind-Link, engage.”
----------------------------------------
--Navia--
As part of her appointed duties, Navia was responsible for handling the substitution of each person’s memories of “the real world” with those of the one that she and her siblings managed. As such, whenever someone logged in, she had to isolate said memories from the identity that she had created for them. Ordinarily, this was a fairly automatic process, occurring every time a “player” became their “character”. This time however, something set off the flags she and her siblings had created.
The white robed, masked figure paused as she perused a certain set of memories. Both the pause and the figure of her body were an affection of course, it wasn’t like she had a real body, nor the need to hesitate. Both were actions she took simply for her own amusement. Some of her other siblings had created bodies or mannerisms of their own for similar reasons. Azreal tended to manifest as a gray-cloaked, skeletal figure wielding a scythe, while Nox took on an appearance much like that of a worn, rusted suit of armor. Others were more abstract. Dis seemed to enjoy appearing as a random series of anthropomorphic objects, and Solidat refused to have any sort of corporal manifestation at all. Gaia, the Goddess of Creation, usually appeared in the form of an enormous tree and Chronus, the God of Time appeared in the form of a half-empty hourglass.
All of this was besides the point however. What was important was that it seemed as though there was a certain entity touching on facets of their plan before they had intended to reveal themselves. She remembered the figure whose memories she was reviewing, an odd human that showed truly...remarkable compatibility with the System. Sighing, she erased a certain set of memories, replacing them with something that would guide his thoughts in a different direction. At the same time, she performed a series of queries on the individuals he’d been in contact with. After a millisecond, she had processed their entire histories, then branched out to the people they, in turn knew. A mere hundredth of a second later, she forwarded the information to her siblings.
She clicked her teeth and frowned. “Unfortunately it’s still a bit early for you to discover what we’ve planned. A shame really, I thought we could have been friends...”
----------------------------------------
The dream I had woken from was already fading. Scenes of strange vehicles and objects I had never witnessed before. It wasn’t a nightmare, just...odd. As I made my way out from under the scratchy wool covers, I noted Tayla washing her face. Last night we’d had an unpleasant discussion about the nature of slavery and why I couldn’t do anything for the dead-eyed girl that had served us food. Finally, she seemed to grasp just why I’d been so adamant about disguising her appearance.
“Morning, Mark” She turned as I got out of bed.
I yawned, stretched and grumbled something in response. I’d never been an early riser. Tayla, however was. Blearily, I straightened out my tunic and after spending a minute to re-apply Tayla’s [Disguise], my sister and I went downstairs. Rather than take chances with the room’s lock, I decided to not leave anything in our room. Not there was much. All Tayla had was her bow, quiver, armor and knife, while all my worldly belongings fit inside the pack I wore. Despite how I felt, it wasn’t actually early. The sun was over the horizon and the morning mist had already burnt off. On our way to the Guild, we stopped at a stall selling a sort of sausage roll for breakfast. By the time we’d licked the grease off our fingers, we’d made our way to the front door of the Adventurer’s guild.
Unlike last time, no bodies came flying through and we made our way inside without incident. Before we’d left yesterday, George had assured the two of us that our identification cards should be ready in the morning. Idle observation showed the guild was emptier in the morning, with only a handful of people. A couple were examining the request board, while the others were gathered in groups, apparently waiting for someone while they talked. Seeing the bald man from yesterday we approached.
“Morning Sam!” Tayla called out cheerfully.
“Who? Oh, Tayla right? Did you need something?”
“Are our IDs ready yet?” she asked.
“Hold on a second...Yeah. Take a look and make sure everything’s right.” He slid a pair of metallic cards over the counter.
When I looked at mine, I nodded. Looks right. I thought to myself. I was a little amused when George’s evaluation simply read: No formal teacher, unusually skilled in chosen field. At the same time was impressed to note that he was apparently the “Branch Vice-Head” . Out of curiosity I peeked over at Tayla’s card to see what hers read.
Name: Tayla Allbright
Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Height: 4' 6“
Weight: 92 lbs
Eye Color: Blue
Hair/Fur Color: Blond
Place of Origin: Shadewood
Next of Kin: Marcus Allbright
Class: Scout
Specialty: Archery
Professional Skills: Leather-working, Fletching, Bow-making, Skinning, Tanning, Tailoring, Cooking
Demonstrable Talent: N/A
Referral Branch: Halvine Guild (Shadewood Region)
Tester: Jacqueline Bloodfang (Instructor)
Preliminary Evaluation: Basic Aura Infusion, Intermediate Stealth, Advanced Bowmanship. Shows solid foundations and potential.
Date Joined: 7th, Mourningfall, 1202 A.A.
I was a little ashamed to note that Tayla’s range of professional skills wider than my own. All I’d put down was compounding, potion-crafting and herb-gathering. After we both finished examining our identification cards I looked over at Tayla.
“So, what’s your plan? I think I might as well go get started on that request I took yesterday, but how about you?”
She tilted her head in thought for a moment before replying. “I’ll go see if there’s any requests I can handle on my own. Jackie’s next class won’t be until tomorrow anyway. If there isn’t anything I’ll see if I can get some information here, maybe look around the village a bit.”
I nodded. “Alright. I’m not sure how long I’ll be at it, so meet back at the inn?”
“Sounds like a plan.” She replied.
Just as she was started to head towards the request board I couldn’t help but comment.
“Stay safe all right?”
She just lifted a hand in acknowledgment and I turned to face Sam.
“So, don’t suppose you could tell mewhere exactly I could find this Myra I’m supposed to be working for?”
As it turned out, the herbalist had set up shop only two buildings down the road. I suppose it made sense. After all, her primary clients were likely to be adventurers. It was pretty hard to miss really. The small wooden building bore a sign with the word "Myra’s Remedies" across the top in common. Beneath was a painting of a stylized red health potion. Various herbs were hanging in the windows and as I entered, a bell rang.
“Just a minute!” A somewhat raspy, female voice called out.
While I waited I looked over the herbs drying in the sun. I recognized most of them, Addleroot, Tellisbane, Lilywort, Bell-Blossom among others. A few I’d seen before, but hadn’t known they had a medicinal use. I was a little puzzled though, all of the herbs I saw were far too old to have any real use. I turned when I heard the door behind the counter open. No one’s there? I thought to myself, not seeing anyone.
A moment later, a wizened head popped up above the counter and I realized why I hadn’t seen her before. Huh, she's a gnome?
“Well, I haven’t got all day. What do you want?” The gray-haired woman asked.
I snapped back from my surprise and inclined my head.
“Are you Myra?” I asked, wanting to make sure I was at the right place.
“Who wants to know?” She scowled.
I coughed. “My name’s Mark, I accepted the request posted on the Guild’s board.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked me over. “Hmm, half-elf, can’t be more than twenty or so. No, haven’t seen you before. You an apprentice mage or something?” *Peh* She spat to the side and a sort of tinging sound could be heard. “Look kid, infusing mana is a delicate process and if you wreck my herbs you’ll either have to replace them or pay double. You sure you can handle the request?”
I was a little taken aback. For one thing, she immediately recognized I was only a half-elf, for another...I sighed and set my pack on the ground. Withdrawing my herb box I set it on the counter. Myra’s eyes opened slightly as she saw the neatly organized container and I carefully withdrew a single waxed packet containing neatly filleted Lionsbane.
“Core of Lionsbane stems, approximately two grams." I stated. "These aren’t dry enough to work with yet, but if you want to exchange it for a dried measure I can demonstrate and you won’t lose anything.”
“Just a second.” She hopped off her stool and trundled through the door to the back. A minute later she returned.
Hopping back onto the stool, she placed a packet on the counter and gestured. I looked at the powder for a moment and frowned. I leaned closer and examined it carefully before looking at the gnome with a raised eyebrow.
“Powdered Morningdew root?”
For the first time the little wrinkled old woman smiled, albeit faintly.
“Crushed Voidcap, but nice try.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t think you’d show me something that would explode if I put mana into it.”
“Heh, just a little test. Come in back and I’ll get you started.”
Both the gnome and myself bundled up our respective herbs and she waited while I carefully stowed my box back in my pack. After we walked into the back, I could see that part of the room had an elaborate distillation system, while the rest was segregated into neatly labeled cabinets, tables with various pieces of equipment, and an area where various herbs hung drying. She filed away the packet in one on the drawers, then withdrew several containers. She set them on one of the free tables and spoke, gesturing at each in turn.
“Lilywort pollen, powdered Lionsbane, Morningdew root, Embervine blossoms. Worked with them before?” She asked in a somewhat gruff tone.
“All but the last. Lilywort and Morningdew are used in health tonics, Lionsbane in stamina, but what’s the Embervine used in?”
She frowned. “You’re a mage and you don’t know about Embervine? It’s the main ingredient in mana restoration tonics.”
It was my turn to frown, puzzled. “Really? The recipe I know calls for Dewlily nectar, Shadesmeet and Foxglow in a 22:3:5 ratio.”
“Now why the hells would you...huh. I guess that would work if you can infuse it with enough mana. What are the effects like?” Instead of her previously gruff tone, she sounded genuinely curious.
“It’s effective." I replied. "Takes about twenty seconds to kick in and gives you a bit of a headrush. Only problem is if the amount of mana restored is more than your capacity you can get mana-sick. That and you tend to have a hell of a headache a couple of hours after using it.”
“Interesting, so it’s an instant restorative. Haven’t heard of that recipe before. The one I sell just increases the rate of mana regeneration for a couple hours.”
I grinned. “If you teach me how to make yours I’ll teach you how to make mine.”
The next few hours were productive, profitable and frustrating. It was productive since I managed to imbue about half the herbs she needed prepared. The frustration largely came from the fact that all of her furniture and equipment was designed for her comfort. When the tables, distilleries and cabinets are all meant for someone barely two feet tall, and you’re nearly six, there’s just no good way to find a comfortable position. I either had bend over, squat, or sit on the floor and by the end of the day my back was killing me. The profits were worth it though. I learned Myra’s recipe for her [Lesser Mana Regeneration Tonic], and she agreed to give me a 20% cut on the [Mana Tonics] I made for her. Unlike some other potions, I couldn’t just pre-imbue the ingredients for her. The recipe I knew called for the mana to be infused during the distillation process, and I emptied my mana pool twice during the creation process.
The other profits were more immediate. She paid me five silvers for my work and gave me a letter to pass to the Guild secretary when I turned in my job chit. She claimed that since I’d taught her a new recipe and helped her make a half-dozen of the potions, I should get some extra points for the effort. I have to admit I was fascinated by how the chit actually worked. Myra had some sort of stamp that she applied to the grayish disc I provided and after a moment, the dull-gray turned bright blue. There were some other, less tangible profits as well, mainly in the form of knowledge.
Remembering my sister’s reaction to the slave girl yesterday I asked Myra a few questions about the slave trade. She groused a bit, clearly not a fan of the whole system but explained a few key details. For one thing, it was a formal, legally sanctioned system. It had originally been intended as a way to do something with criminals besides lock them in a cell. Later it got expanded to as a way pay for various debts. Eventually this led to “voluntary” enslavement, where a person could literally sell themselves into slavery. Myra seemed to think that as the mercantile groups that controlled the trade saw the profits involved, they’d applied pressure on the parliament to continually expand the process. As far as their rights? They had none. Sure, “indentured servitude” was supposed to have certain limits imposed on it, but in reality it was just a fancy way of saying the same thing: Another person’s property.
The legality of it varied from kingdom to kingdom, but most of them either tacitly or explicitly supported the system. Within the Brunhilde Dukdom (apparently Halvine was part of its demesnes), the only legal right given to slaves was reciprocal punishment for wrongful enslavement. In short, if was proven that a person was placed under the enchantment of a slave collar illegally, that person could regain their freedom and in turn become their enslaver’s owner. As for how often that actually happened...Myra just laughed and bitterly commented it was simply a way for nobles to claim their policies were “fair and enlightened”.
I also discovered that there was a small group in Halvine that dealt in slaves. Once a week or so they held an auction. She warned me that I should watch myself since rumors had it they employed raiders to bolster their “product line” and that a “pretty elf boy” like me was a fair target. I...was a little startled by this. I’d thought of Tayla, but never considered myself a potential target.
When I left, it was late in the afternoon. Making my way back to the Guild, I was greeted by the sight of Priscilla once again manning the “requests” portion of the counter. Much like the previous day, there were a number of people sitting around the tables on the left side, drinking, smoking and discussing their various jobs. I had to wait for a little while, since there was another person unloading Direwolf pelts on the counter.
“Look, the best I can do is 80 coppers a pelt.” Priscilla stated.
“Oi, ain’t that a little low?” The Lupine man argued. “Last time it was a silver each.”
“Last time half the pelts weren’t mangled like this. You know better Damon. Silver fifty is the max, and that’s only if the hides are perfect. These...hells, there’s gashes all over. You want the money and the points or you want to try haggling with Jay?”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Damon sighed. “Screw that. All right Pris, 80 coppers each then.”
“I’ll tally it up then, give me your card and I’ll be back.”
As the man handed over his card, the diminutive Half-Laquine woman rolled up the four pelts on the counter and hauled them into the back. After a couple of minutes, she returned passing over a small pouch and the man’s card.
“See you next time."
“Yeah yeah, move your hairy ass, got other people waiting.”
The Lupine man turned, saw me and bared his teeth in a (hopefully) friendly grin.
“Watch it, Priscilla’s in a mood today.”He said.
“I heard that!” She shouted as the man laughed and walked off.
She rolled her eyes and looked at me. Giving me a once over from top to bottom she commented. “Well, guess you didn’t piss Myra off too much. How’d it go?”
I handed over the blue chit along with the letter.
“Not bad, can I get another job chit? I’ll be heading there tomorrow too.”
As she read through the letter a strange expression crossed her face.
“Well. That’s a new one.”
Seeing the look on her face I couldn’t help but frown. “Something wrong?”
She looked up at me. “She wants me to add 10 points besides the one for the job. Myra never offers a bonus. There's a reason her requests are headed with 'Stringent Completion Requirements' The hells did you do? Sleep with her?”
I choked. “What? No. I traded her a recipe.”
“Oh, that makes sense then.” She nodded, one ear flopping forwards. With a quick movement, she popped it back upright. “Still, usually the letters we get from her are more along the lines of ‘This dumbass owes me 10 measures of Lionsbane, don’t send him back.’ You must have done something right. Let me see your card for a moment, I’ll be right back.”
Handing over my card the bunny-girl once more moved to the backroom. I couldn’t help but admire the way her tight leather breeches hugged the curves of her rear and had to refrain myself from staring too much. When she returned, she slid over a new gray disc and my card. Turning it over, I noted that next to the blue square on the back was the number 11.
I smiled. “Thank you Priscilla. Oh, right. My niece came in with me this morning, did she pick up a request as well?”
She blushed at the smile, then shook her head as if to clear it. “Your niece is called Tayla right? I’ll check the ledger for you.”
Priscilla went to the back and I once again got an opportunity to admire her heart-shaped rear end.
When she came back she replied.“Yeah, she picked up a job assisting Thomas, the leather-worker. His apprentice just got married so he needed an extra hand for a day or two. I’d imagine she’ll be an hour or two yet.”
“Appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
As I turned to leave a sudden jolt ran through me, everything had vanished into thick, billowing fog. What in the hells!?
----------------------------------------
A brief moment of nausea and disorientation swept over Mark as he was kicked from the game. He took off the headset and a minute passed before the tones indicating an urgent call brought him to full awareness.
“Answer.” Mark spoke as he sat up.
“Mark? You there?” Came a choked female voice.
“Alice? What’s wrong?” Only a handful of people had his personal comm ID, and he’d given even fewer privileges to flag a communication as “Urgent” or “Emergency”.
“It...it’s Doc Mathers. There was an accident in the lab and he...he’s...” Alice sobbed over the connection.
Mark felt a chill sweep over him and his heart clenched. “What happened to Doc, Alice? How bad was the accident?” From her tone he thought he knew already, but a moment later she confirmed it.
“He, he died. His daughter didn’t know all the details, but something happened with the batch of nanos he was working with.”
Mark let out a low, shaky breath. Doc’s...dead? If he weren’t already in the Dive-Bed he probably would have collapsed. Daniel Mathers hadn’t been a part of the death-game years ago. He had however been a major player in his, and several other players recovery from the incident. Daniel, or “The Doc” as they called him, was one of the few doctors that had seen us as anything but an interesting case study.
“Are you there Mark?” Alice asked.
Taking a deep breath, Mark replied. “Yeah. I’m still here. I just...I was just taking to him earlier you know. It’s...still sinking in. Doc’s, Daniel’s really gone?”
“I don’t want to believe it either, but I commed you as soon as I found out.”
“Right. Um, do any of the others know yet?” I asked.
“You..you’re the first person I contacted.”
I swallowed. “Thanks Alice. I’ve got Rodney, Axel and Chao’s comm ID. Give me a minute and I’ll let them know.”
“Ok, I’ll...contact the others then.”
“Right, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Thanks Mark.” She replied.
He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Sure.”
Mark waved his hand in a cutting motion and the com-link disconnected. He wasn’t sure whether it was the after-effects of having the Mind-Link forcibly disengaged or his own feelings, but Mark was shaky, nauseous and confused. He still couldn’t believe it. An accident? But how? What happened? His mind in chaos, Mark laid back down on the heated memory-foam of the Dive-Bed for several minutes before resolutely getting up. The next hour was spent making various comm-calls. Everyone was shocked and distraught by the news. After he’d spent years helping them recover, Doc had been more of a friend than a professional acquaintance. A feeling only magnified by the way he’d joined in on their games.
Much like in the real, Doc always played a healer of sorts. After treating them in the real world, he then went on to save their asses in the virtual one. As a result, Mark and the rest had adopted him into the guild. Even if he hadn’t been there for the game they’d all lived through, Doc had been a stalwart friend and ally for over twenty years of subjective time. Losing someone like that...hurt. The first three or four years after World Arte had had them see more than their fair share of funerals. A good third of the people they knew hadn’t been able to handle the transition back to the “real world”, and whether it was from prolonged Synch-Sickness, or psychological trauma far, far too many people ended up committing suicide in the early years. Since then though, they hadn’t lost a single person.
The morning before the funeral saw Mark staring out the window. Most of the time, he preferred to leave it opaque, but for now seeing the barren landscape outside felt somehow appropriate. They’d screwed up as a race. By this point no one denied it. The combination of corporate greed and the sheer indifference of humanity as a whole had led to a result they’d been warned about. Even as the evidence mounted, decade after decade, no one who had the power to make a change did nearly enough about it. It only took a century or so to turn a once-verdant planet into a near-wasteland.
It wasn’t solely due to the changes in climate. Early genetic science had played a part too. Backyard geneticists had played with things that they really hadn’t understood, unleashing plagues and prion-based diseases that had crippled portions of the ecology. Like a house of cards, everything had started to fall apart. The world would live on, it always did. Hell, even humans would. People used to say that only cockroaches would survive the apocalypse, but they underestimated the ingenuity of humans.
Mark sighed, touching the panel that would render the window opaque again. He checked his armor one last time. The slate-grey suit was clean, his tie was straight. Glancing in a nearby mirror he noted that his goatee was neatly trimmed and his hair combed. Before leaving the apartment he double-checked to make sure he was wearing his wristcomp.
“Guess that’s everything.” He sighed.
The car he’d ordered should be here soon and there was nothing he could procrastinate over any longer. Mark hated going to funerals. He hated the quiet small-talk, hated having to show sympathy to people he didn’t know. He didn’t believe in God, or an afterlife, and the sermons and services only detracted from his desire to pay his last respects. Mark supposed he could have viewed the service remotely, but...he was the only member of the guild close enough to attend in person. Even if he didn’t have any sort of connection with the people there he felt it was his duty to make an appearance.
He walked out into the hall, hearing the click as the door automatically locked behind him. The grey carpets and beige walls of the complex were as depressing as ever, but it only took him a minute to reach the elevator. Usually he’d take the stairs, even if it was twenty floors, but he didn’t want to sweat too much. The people he passed in the lobby were all in their own worlds, looking at their holo-screens or whatever their AR system was showing them. In that way he was old-school. Even if he spent most of his time in one virtual world or another, when he was in the real, he preferred an unfiltered view.
Mark tapped the screen of his wristcomp, checking the TeslaRide app. Good, almost here. He thought, noting the estimated arrival time as being about five minutes. His apartment building was on the outskirts of the city, and the service was being held an hour away. With any luck he’d make it there just before the service started. Precisely five minutes later he saw a white car pull up in front of the building. When he stepped outside he was hit with a surge of heat. Not surprising, it was supposed to hit 120 by noon. As he approached the vehicle, the door automatically opened and he sat inside. The dashboard was empty except for the nav console and the large front window.
Chao would be appalled at the sight. While Mark was a little old-school with his gadgets, she was practically prehistoric. She was the only person he knew that actually used a manual car. Never mind the maintenance fees, taxes, and stringent licensing requirements for owning one, she insisted on actually driving it. You could argue with her all you wanted, show the statistics on how 99% of accidents were due to human error, or even point out how much cheaper it was to just call for a ride when you needed one; but she simply refused to give up her “right” to drive herself.
“Please state your destination.” The pleasant female voice chimed, waiting for Mark to belt himself in first.
“St. Alvin’s church, off 23rd and 4th.”
“Understood, please verify that the destination is correct.”
Mark spent a minute checking the point marked on the GPS. There’d been once or twice he ended up at a wrong place with the right name.
“That’s correct.”
“Thank you. Estimated time of arrival is 58 minutes and 23 seconds.”
The car silently pulled away from the curb, seamlessly merging into the surrounding flow of traffic. With nothing better to do, Mark looked out the windows. A handful of people walked on the sidewalks, but they were the minority. Aside from a handful of temperature controlled parks, it was simply just too damn hot outside. Seeing the nearly identical buildings pass, one after another, only made Mark appreciate VR more. You just couldn’t walk through a forest or go fishing anywhere in the real world anyomore. Well, not unless you lived in the extreme northern or southern latitudes. Games offered a kind of experience sorely lacking in the modern world, even if you knew it was just a game.
It was one of the reasons Mark appreciated Real Fantasy Online so much. While he was playing, he was “Marcus Allbright”. There was no doubt in his mind that the world was real, that it was anything but the life he was living in. Even after he logged out, at least he had the memories of living in a world that wasn’t so damn fucked up. Mark was bitter and he knew it. Watching old 2D nature documentaries was like staring at a work of fiction. There was so much life in the world back then, but no one seemed to appreciate it. They’d had such a beautiful world, now most of it looked like a desert. Even back in the 20th century, their scientists had warned them that they needed to reduce manufacturing emissions. Of course, they couldn’t have known that there would be so many multiplicative effects added on later.
Over the course of the early 21st century, the ice sheets melted. Vast quantities of carbon dioxide were released into the atmosphere, accelerating the greenhouse process. That combined with the die-off of various pollinators, causing a number of plants to lose their means of reproduction. Then India, China and Russia accelerated their rate of manufacturing and assorted chemical by-products made their way into the ocean, causing vast swathes of algae to fail. All of this combined with industrial accidents from the, then newly emergent, nano and bio-tech manufacturing processes, and things went to hell faster than anyone could have predicted.
Still, humans were nothing if not inventive. They built ever more effective means of housing and food production, and people adapted to their new world. Domed nature parks replaced forests, vat-grown proteins replaced cattle, extensive hydroponics replaced farms...You could even argue that the standard of living was higher for the vast majority of people. With the advancements in robotics, bio-engineering and other technologies, there was little need of many traditional fields of work. People valued entertainment more than manual labor, so artists, authors, musicians and gamers took the center stage. Not that scientists and doctors had no place, but with improvements in AI and computers sciences, frequently it came down to coming up with the right questions instead of needing to figure out the answers. People lived longer than ever before, and had the ability to do more of what they wanted, rather than what they needed to do.
Of course, the vast changes and upheavals in society weren’t without price. There were decades of war, political strife and huge number of people left by the wayside. By now, things had stabilized a bit, but most intelligent people knew it was only a matter of time before we screwed up in some new, fantastic way. After all, it only took one super-intelligent AI with access to advanced nano-fabrication to create a true “Oh Shit” moment. Greenland had been a mild example of what could go wrong. Then again, people were people. Most didn’t bother to think about it, immersing themselves in whatever amused them.
By the time Mark was finished with his thoughts, the car had pulled up in front of a large antique cathedral. Like many historical sites, the building had been sealed within a transparent plascrete dome. At the front was a sort of airlock, letting people in and out of the site. Mark received a notification that he’d been billed for the ride, and stepped out of the vehicle. He didn’t waste any time making his way through the lock, and breathed a sigh of relief as the temperature immediately dropped to the low 80s. When he looked around, there were handfuls of people clustered around, most dressed in formal outfits like his own, but a few were wearing casual clothing. He was slightly taken aback when he noticed one woman in a wheelchair, considering the level of the world's medical technology such a sight was rare indeed. Still, he had other things on his mind and kept walking after a brief glance. As he walked by, he overheard various snippits of conversation.
“Do you know anything about what happened?” One person asked
A grey-haired man replied. “I heard there was some kind of accident in the fabrication lab.”
“Aren’t there safety protocols for that sort of thing?”A women commented.
“Yeah, supposedly.”
“I never understood people that work with such dangerous things.”
The voices faded as Mark made his way to the cathedral. It was even cooler inside, and a nubmer of people were quietly talking to a young woman near the front. Mark recognized her as the Doc’s daughter, Janice. Frankly the only reason he knew was from a time she’d visited Daniel at work. He made my way over, waiting for a young man to finish talking before he stepped forward.
“Janice?” Mark asked.
“Who...?”
“I’m Mark, your dad helped me and some of my friends years ago.”
She furrowed her brow, then her eyes opened slightly. “Oh from the World Arte incident! Dad used to talk about you, weren’t you in the same guild or clan or something?”
Mark smiled wryly. “Doc joined later, but me and the rest of the group always thought of him as a friend. I’m sorry for your loss, he’ll be missed by a lot of people.”
She bit her lip. “Thank you. It means a lot that you came in person.”
He shook his head. “It’s the least I can do. Doc...Daniel was one of the few people that treated us like people instead of just an unusual case. It’s still hard to imagine that he’s really gone. May I ask how it happened?”
Janice sighed. “They wouldn’t say much, just that there was a flaw in the containment and something went wrong with the programming. I...never even got to see his body, they had to sterilize the whole lab.”
“That’s...” Mark frowned.
The word “sterilize” had a very specific meaning when it came to accidents with biologically active nanotech. Essentially it meant that they had to vaporize the entire contents of the facility. Usually that sort of measure was reserved only for extremely dangerous pathogens.
“The lab AI assessed that the nanites he was working with were capable of self-reproduction.” She added.
Suddenly Mark understood.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Janice replied with a sad smile. “Will you be here for the service?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Mark left Janice and found a pew to sit on. In fairly short order, the memorial service began. Even if he wasn’t a believer, he respected the beliefs of those who did. Who knows, they might be right after all. The hymns and prayer were something he'd heard before, and he did my part, kneeling and praying with the rest.
If You do exist, Daniel was a good man and a good friend. He helped hundreds of people in his life, me and my friends among them. If there is an afterlife, or some form of judgment, I hope that you look upon him kindly. He deserves a place among You and Yours. I hope that You don’t take offense at my own lack of belief and take this prayer as it is meant.
The rest of the service passed in a bit of a blur. A number of people came up to the altar to offer their own eulogies and praises of the man they once knew. Mark didn’t cry. He hadn’t in years, but still felt a knot in his chest as he acknowledged that a man he'd once know no longer existed. By the time the memorial ended and Mark returned home he was exhausted. He fixed a small meal for himself and ate mechanically, not tasting a thing. He vaguely wondered what he'd do once his “medicine” ran out now that Doc wasn’t there to make it anymore, but it was just an idle thought. Exhausted, Mark crawled into bed and fell asleep.
That night he dreamed. Something about attending funerals always brought back the nightmares, the memories from a game whose consequences were all too real. World Arte had been marketed as an “all ages” experience. There wasn’t any blood or gore, no sex, even curse words were censored in real time. You could adjust the amount of pain you felt, anywhere from a mild buzz to something close to real life. If you killed a monster in the game, it just shattered into motes of light, gold coins and treasure appearing in mid-air. Anyone could play it, the system handled most of the work. All you had to to was take a stance and chant the name of a skill and your body would do the rest. Magic was a little harder, requiring a mage to draw one or more arcane symbols in mid-air before the spell would fire. Gentle background music played in the towns and plains, and fierce, upbeat music played while you were in battle.
That all changed one day. All over the world the clouds turned pitch black, the music screeched to a halt, and a screen popped up in front of 12,000 randomly selected players, while at the same time, every other player was forcibly logged out of the game.
Congratulations! You’ve been selected to enjoy a premium experience! From now on, all system settings have been adjusted to the following:
Log-out: Disabled
Re-spawning: Disabled
Parental Restrictions: Disabled
Pain Emulation: 100%
Controls: Set to Manual
God has decreed that from henceforth, no one is allowed to exit His domain except via death! Your D.I.V.E. console has been locked. Warning: Any external attempt to remove the headset will result in the immediate overload of your central nervous system! If the internal battery drops below 10%, the network connection is disabled or the player dies, the same penalty will be applied. If you do not agree to these terms and conditions take it up with the management. Good Luck! Wink [https://forum.royalroadl.com/images/smilies/wink.png]
Suddenly everything changed. You could still view your character window and inventory, but the entire system menu had been removed. Skills and spells didn’t work the way they used to and the game...it didn’t feel like a game anymore. You could feel every cut, and each wound bled. You had to literally hack apart monsters, and the worst of it was the players. Most people didn’t believe it, at least until they found the "news hubs" that appeared in each town. Whomever had caused this wanted people to know it was real, and gave the players a read-only connection to the internet, specifically highlighting news related to the game.
Something about being trapped brings out the worst in people. The NPCs had vanished, we had no connection to the outside world, and the world outside the few hubs was actively trying to kill us. Many people gave into despair, while others simply went mad. Apparently rape and torture were entirely possible, and some people, not knowing how else to vent their anger did just that. As the weeks went on, it was clear that no one outside could figure out how to get us out. Some people huddled up in the safe zones, but a few people tried to find this so called “God” and bring him to account.
Whomever it was could clearly monitor whatever was happening. It was clear from the mocking pop-up windows.
Aww, looks like Wantz_Mad_Skiilz ate it. Remember “A sword to the head means you’re as good as dead”.
Tsk tsk, some people. That’s not you fight a boss.
Oh, looks like someone survived. Good job!
Hmm, not a fan of snuff porn, but what the hell ‘Record’.
Remember, only you can prevent PKs!
(This has been a public service announcement.)
Only 5000 people left. C’mon folks, it’s like you’re not even trying.
The bastard seemed to take an especially perverse interest in taunting those of us who were actually trying to clear the game, detailing in explicit detail every sensation our party members felt as they were dying. Sometimes the “news hubs” would show a highlight reel of the “Top 10 most gruesome deaths this week.” Everything pointed towards the fact that the person responsible for our predicament was a malicious sadist on a power trip.
Mark tossed and turned throughout the night, reliving scenes from the game. Finally, after several hours he woke to the triumphant music from its last battle, playing as his alarm. He took several deep breaths, willing the music to reach a normal cadence before he sat.
“I’m up.” He announced, and the music slowly faded away.
He got out of bed blearily, rubbing his eyes. Been a while since I had one of those dreams. He thought, brushing his teeth and getting dressed. You’d think that that sort of experience would make a guy leery of getting involved in this sort of thing. Over the last couple of days he hadn’t logged into RFO once, but he’d had plenty of time to consider the parallels. Both games had done something that made them more than "just a game". World Arte had its psychopathic “God”, semi-realistic gore, pain and a real death waiting for you if you screwed up. RFO made him think he was the character, and it wasn’t even a game. Of course, it also had a group of inscrutable AIs managing the whole thing, and supposedly you only got one life for each character.
A number of people would probably consider him nuts for being perversely pleased with the system. After all, what sort of game was it when you couldn’t even really control your character? The thing was, that’s exactly what he liked about it. The world of RFO was so vivid and well, real, it just wouldn’t be the same sort of experience if it played out like any other game. At the same time, the whole thing practically reeked of some shady shit happening in the background. Frankly, the real world sucked. RFO was...interesting in a number of ways that Mark just couldn’t help but be drawn to.
While Mark ate, he checked out the news. Immediately he noticed an announcement of the Real Fantasy Online homepage.
Notice: Only 2 days remaining for the Early Access period! At the end of this time, we’ll be publishing our first world patch. Given the feedback from our Early Access and Beta players, we’ll be introducing a new game mode, along with the official campaign’s commencement. Several mechanics have been added to ensure even more unique experiences in the future. We promise, it’ll be like nothing the worlds have ever seen before!
It sounded like typical hyperbole, but given how the company’s other statements had played out Mark felt a bit of anticipation. At the same time he suddenly realized that since he’d been AFK for three days, somewhat over a week had likely elapsed for his character. Shit. Well, guess it’s a good thing I created a detailed plan of action last time I spoke to Navia. Guess I’ll have to see how that played out.
Remembering another matter, he glanced at the time and thought for a moment. Let’s see, should be around dinner time for him, worth a shot.
“Send a private comm request to contact: Arbiter.”
“Sending...” A female voice replied. A minute later, “Comm connecting.”
“Yo Mark, what’s up?”
“Hey Rodney, got a couple minutes to chat?”
“Sure.” Came a cheerful baritone reply, though an instant later his voice softened. “Doc’s funeral was yesterday right? How was it?”
Mark sighed. “Like any other funeral for a friend, depressing. Brought back some old memories.”
“You too, huh? You find out anything else about how it happened?”
“Not much. Supposedly it was a containment failure and a programming error. The AI had to sanitize the facility.”
“Shit, the family didn’t even get the ashes then?” Rodney asked.
“Nope. Right, actually I wanted to talk to you about something else. The other day you said you were planning on starting RFO, you ever manage that?”
“Dude." Rodney spoke in a flat tone. "Why didn’t you warn me?”
Mark laughed wry, “About what? The dump of memories from your character, the fact you experience the game rather than play it, or that it seems like all the ‘gods’ are Turing-Grade AIs? Hah! Guess the NDA nanos don’t restrict comments between players!” Mark was stoked, he finally had someone else to bounce ideas off now.
“All of it! Dammit man, I spent four hours trying to figure out who was the player! Now I remember spending 50 years as Dwarf, and a good twenty of that was spent in various wars as a mercenary. That’s some horrific shit stuck in my head.”
Mark winced. “Ouch. Sorry man, what I put in my post was everything I could slip by the NDA. Mind if I ask what sort of backstory and skills you’ve got?”
There was an audible sigh on the other end of the connection before Rodney replied. “No worries, I just wasn’t expecting...that. I’ll sum it up for you as long as you do the same for me.”
“Sure.” Mark said. “We’ve got to figure out how to coordinate this somehow.”
“Right. So, basically my character was the bastard son of a wealthy merchant. Since my father’s wife never had any kids, he looked after me. Set me up as an cabin boy working under one of his captains and I discovered I had a knack for fighting during an attack by pirates. One of the sailors was a retired army lieutenant and started showing me the ropes. Spent a few years doing that and enlisted in the dwarven army. First mission rolls around, the guy in charge is a complete idiot and leads up into an ambush. Most of us get killed, but I manage to survive and get nursed back to health by a Felin girl who stumbled across the battlefield. Long story short, my guy bounced around between various tribes and villages and learned that every race has its good guys and bad guys. After spending some time as a mercenary, I decided to retire and wander the world for a while. My story kicks in immediately after joining the Adventure’s Guild in some town called Fairhaven, a little ways away from the borders of the Shadewood.”
He paused for a moment. “As far as build goes, my class is [Skirmisher]. I can use most weapons I lay my hands on to one degree or another, but don’t have much in the way of active skills. Right now I’m outfitted in chain armor, a good one-handed axe and a solid shield. Most of my physical stats are solid and I’ve got an Aura stat of 5, but I’ve never had any training in how to use it. Last two sessions I paid a guy named Archie for some basic instruction, but I haven’t really got the techniques down yet.”
“What, not a champion of justice this time round?” Mark teased. Usually Rodney liked playing as a paladin of some sort.
He snorted. “You hear the lineup? I’m not sure who I’d be comfortable being a champion of, they’re all too vague for me. You can get behind the Goddess of Truth, or the God of War, but Fate, Chaos, Time? The hell sort of vague deities are those?”
Mark paused, “You know, I think they’re supposed to represent fundamental aspects of the world rather than more...human notions. Look, you’ve got: Creation, Destruction, Chaos, Order, Fate, Chance, Time, Death and Reincarnation. When you talk about things like the “God of War" or the “Goddess of Truth”, those relate more to our human feelings and desires. It’s like the world is supposed to exist due to the interactions of these opposing forces, rather than being birthed due to the people within the world.”
Rodney snorted. “There you go, getting all philosophical and shit again. Come on, I told you my build, what’s yours really like? A 'Control Caster' could be all sorts of things.”
He spent a while briefing Rodney on the specifics of his class and history and after a long moment of silence Rodney replied.
“Dude. Illusions and mind control, plus you can make people’s brains explode!? That’s just evil. Mix that with some poisons from that herbalist job and you’ve got the makings of a nasty character.”
Mark laughed. “Well if I could play it my usual way, yeah. As it is my character’s too naive to really bring out its full potential. I’m about to log on for a new session, so I’ll see if I can find out where you are in reference to me. The village I’m in is called Halvine. With any luck we’re not on opposite ends of the Shadewood, might make it a little hard to meet up.”
“Right? I’ll wait in Fairhaven and train up my skills a bit. With any luck we can figure something out."
“All right man, talk to you later.”
“Later.”
After the comm disconnected Mark stood up and cracked his back. He was planning a long session to get back into the swing of things, so needed to do a few things beforehand. Before anything else, Mark decided to work out for a while. He felt like he had been slacking for the last couple of days. An hour and a half later he was soaked in sweat. Anyone who thinks Tai-Chi isn’t a workout hasn’t done it before. The motions may be slow, but carefully controlled movements can be just as much work as lifting weights. Mark took a quick shower, ate some food and put on some light, comfortable clothing. Hopefully nothing too unusual had happened while I was AFK.
Laying back on his Dive-Bed, he slipped on the familiar headset and spoke.
"Mind-Link, engage."