Julius Himura entered his control room and locked the steel door behind him. Then he sat in his leather chair before the bank of game monitors. Twenty screens showed games in progress.
His container of half-eaten sashimi sat on edge of the broad, half-moon-shaped control panel. Was that sashimi from yesterday? The day before? He couldn’t remember. More important things occupied his mind.
No matter. The squirming in his torso told him this body should eat.
He popped open the container lid, releasing a tinge of rancid aroma. The raw fish slices had been unrefrigerated for some time. They were perfect now. He dipped one into a congealed paste of warm soy sauce and wasabi and slurped it down, then turned his eyes to the bank of video monitors.
With his personal, specially programmed visor, he could see all the screens, but he had modified the programming of his interface to feed him data no one else could see.
He turned his attention to a screen where six players were enjoying a birthday party for a middle-schooler. The scenario was one where the middle-schooler was the focus of the Chosen One narrative. This tween girl had to save her family from the clutches of a band of hungry orcs in a deep and dangerous dungeon, using her trusty magical bow and arrows.
It looked like she was going to succeed, except that Eddie, the actor playing the orc chieftain, was scaring her for real with his sheer ferocity. He was swinging his battle axe at her as she “shot” him with virtual arrow after virtual arrow. His virtual chest bristled with shafts. His health bar, hovering over his head, was empty and flashing red. He was supposed to be “playing dead,” and yet he kept coming.
Worse, it looked like he was actually trying to strike her physically.
Himura summoned his master controls from thin air and “slapped” a big red button. His point of view shot through the ether for a split second until he emerged in the game space, hovering in mid-air between Eddie and the girl, invisible to everyone but Eddie.
“Eddie!” he shouted.
The massive, green-skinned creature jerked back.
“Your character is far below zero Life Points. You must pretend to die.” To slow him down, Himura engaged the suit brake, stiffening Eddie’s limbs. Eddie would now feel like he was swimming in tar.
“But, Master, I’m hungry!” It came out in a non-human snarl.
“Restrain yourself! It’s not yet our time!”
“But, Master—”
“Obey me! Now!” As he issued the command, he tapped the pendant around his neck, one very similar to the one he’d just given the new girl.
Eddie stiffened, staggered, gasping for air. “Yes…Master!” Then the orc chieftain pirouetted, flung his arms wide, and expired in most dramatic fashion.
The family cheered. The tween girl—Chloe was her name—pumped her fists with glee as victorious theme music swelled within the game space.
Her brother came out from behind the altar where he’d been hiding and said, “I thought he was really going to get you. His health was at zero, but he just kept coming.”
“Yeah,” she said, “that was a little scary.” A tremor in her voice said she was truly shaken, but victory had dispelled some of her fear.
While the family celebrated their triumph, Himura said to Eddie. “Don’t worry, Eddie. Our time is coming. As soon as they exit, return to your chamber immediately.”
Eddie’s silent acquiescence registered with the smallest twitch of his virtual, orcish finger.
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Himura returned his awareness to his office. He slurped up a few more slices of spoiled sashimi, appreciating their rancid sheen before he dipped them. He smacked his lips. Oh, yes, very soon, they would all have plenty to eat.
* * *
Ash had no doubt what sort of character he was going to play. He smacked the Private Detective archetype. “Bam.”
Character Class: Private Detective The Private Detective must be sharp-eyed and wary, an astute judge of the human condition. They see the best and worst of human behavior, part altruist, part pessimist, but always a realist. Sometimes the client needs muscle, sometimes confirmation of their darkest fears, sometimes simply a shoulder to cry on. But those who are investigated rarely take kindly to the attention, which can put the private detective in some sticky situations. That’s where combat skills come in. Private Detectives may begin the game with one firearm and one hand-to-hand weapon.
The GM said, “Now, you may begin the character customization process.”
The environs of the locker room faded into blackness and a brightly lit wall of text appeared before him. A character sheet, he realized. It looked very familiar, with character traits very similar to every roleplaying game he’d ever played.
The GM said, “Your character begins based on you, Ash. An estimation of each of your physical, spirit, and mental traits has been assigned a number between three and eighteen, with eleven being the normal human average.”
“So you’ve already evaluated my stats? Like, me as an RPG character?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, I’m not sure how I feel about that.” How would an objective, nonhuman entity evaluate his intelligence, looks, and physical strength? Was it even possible? More importantly, would they be enough to turn Ivy’s head?
Player: Ash Reynolds Character Class: Private Detective Physical Traits Mental Traits Spirit Traits Strength: 11 Perception: 14 Empathy: 13 Agility: 14 Resilience: 16 Charisma: 10 Constitution: 15 Intellect: 17 Appearance: 15 Size: 11 Education: 13 Intuition: 15
Ash found himself pleasantly surprised at having such a high Intellect, Intuition, Resilience, and Constitution. He had never had such high estimations of his abilities. A below average Charisma, though, which did not bode well for his dating prospects. He’d always been one of the awkward ones.
The GM said, “You may now take this opportunity to customize your stats. You may distribute five extra points, up to the normal human maximum of 18.”
Plus arrows appeared next to each of Ash’s statistics.
“Ooo, self-improvement!” Ash chuckled. “Be all you can be!” His hand went to dump all five points into Charisma, but he paused. He knew guys growing up who just had that sort of natural charisma, guys who could walk up to supermodel and get her phone number. Most of them became salesmen or some sort of performer—or grifters. Jacking up his charisma felt like cheating at the dating game. Plus, he didn’t know if the game’s Charisma could influence other players. But then, he could just as easily boost his Appearance, make himself more handsome. But then, a 15 Appearance was decidedly above average. By the GM’s estimation, he was cute, but too shy and awkward too be dashing.
But he also wanted to be an effective P.I., play the game well. That might impress Ivy more than anything. He pushed that thought away. Dammit, Ash, too needy. You’re gonna shoot yourself in the foot. Get the mind back on track!
A good P.I. needed Intellect, Intuition, Perception. His Intellect was already very high, only one step from the maximum. An 18 was Sherlock Holmes or Albert Einstein level. So, he put two points to Perception, a point into Intuition…and two points into Charisma. He needed all the help he could get.
Then he punched Accept.
The GM said, “Would you like to age your character?”
“Maybe? How does it work?”
“For every six years above your base, you gain one point of Education, up to a maximum of 18.”
“And the benefit of that is…?”
“Every point of Education gives you twenty skill points. If you would like to play an elderly character, every five years beyond the age of forty results in a penalty of either -1 Strength or Constitution.”
“All right, then I’ll be 35. Two extra points of Education please.”
His Education ticked up two points on his character sheet.
“Now, you may choose your skills,” the GM said.