“So, do these do something?”
As they ambled together along the sidewalk, Tisha held the horn-rimmed glasses to her face. They made her dark eyes look huge.
“That’s what we’re about to find out. Keep them off for a sec.”
Phone in hand, Robin took a step back and centered Tisha in her Analyzer. She made note of the data displayed — Tisha Madison (TM45), Level 2 Hero — then said, “Okay. Now switch to Civilian mode.”
“How?”
Good question. In-game it’d been as simple as selecting a menu option or pressing a hotkey. But in this world…
“Try taking off your tiara.”
Tisha did so, though it seemed to take a bit more concentration than the action should have required. As the crown came away, the unnatural colors drained from her hair, returning it to a natural black. The cape seemed to vanish in the next blink, leaving her looking utterly mundane. She might’ve been any normal civilian.
The analyzer’s data now read only: Tisha Madison (TM45) in green letters. The green, Robin knew, indicated that they shared a party. If they were to break rank, it would switch to the blue text that helped players find their Friends in a crowd, where other civilian-mode PCs would have only their character names written in silver.
“Okay, now put on the glasses.”
Tisha did so. They did not suit her, even as a civilian. The thick, dorky frames went completely against her peppy aesthetic. But, they did their job: the analyzer’s info now switched to simply Tisha Madison in the plain, black text of a non-player character.
Thus was the power of the Ordinary Glasses. One of the most common items outside of the starter gear, its only purpose was to allow players to fully blend into the world around them. There wasn’t much practical purpose to it; any player who cared to investigate a suspicious stranger would discover the truth by simply starting a conversation, and anything scripted was already programmed to treat Civilian-mode players the same as their fellow NPCs. But some people enjoyed the extra layer of roleplay, while others favored the privacy. The latter was especially common among those who played solo.
Robin reached into her backpack, finding her own pair of Glasses on the first try. She switched through the three modes, letting Tisha observe as she took off her mask, losing the red from her hair and the gloves from her hands, and put on the glasses. They suited her better. She’d wanted this character to be inconspicuous, after all.
“Huh,” said Tisha, once the observation was complete. “That’s kinda cool.”
“And it proves that this world runs on the same logic as the game. At least some of the NPCs do, too.”
“Only some?”
“There was something about that news broadcast…but that’s just me guessing. Have you checked your stats?”
Tisha blinked at her, confused.
“Character sheet’s in the I.A.H. app. These bad boys—” Robin took off her Glasses and tapped the frame. “—aren’t your only reward.”
The app labeled IAH ID opened with a silver lighthouse on a golden screen before giving way to a second fingerprint login and a facial-recognition scan. Its main screen was exactly what it said on the tin: a virtual I.D. badge featuring a head-shot of Tisha in her Hero mode, along with an I.D. number and some basic information. It resembled a driver’s license, save for the fact that it did not show her character’s name and that the space left for an address was currently blank.
Tapping the photo took Tisha to a new screen, one that Robin had discovered herself on the walk over. Its header read only ATTRIBUTES. Below it lay a list of nine words separated into four pairs with one left over:
Might •◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Agility ••◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Stamina ••◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Resilience •◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Intellect •◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Will ••◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Presence ••◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Luck ••◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
And finally, in slightly larger font:
Power ••◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦
Each word had one or two dots next to it, with 8-9 open circles representing potential for more. Most of these dots were in silver, but the second dot after Presence was faint red.
“Interesting,” said Robin, once Tisha tilted the phone to give her a better view. “Guess charming with music counts as befriending them. You can move the point around if you want.”
Not everyone in the game used the Personality system. Some players, especially the competitive ones with an eye on PvP arenas or specific power builds, preferred to dictate the point distribution themselves and maintain a high level of control over their characters. The only attribute that wouldn’t accept the transfered points was Power, which steadily increased by exactly one point per level gained and couldn’t be altered by normal means.
“When you level up it’ll be the same kind of thing: you can move the points around or just leave them where the algorithm thinks is best.”
Tisha tapped her chin. “It’s just the one point every level, right?”
“Unless you take The Drink, yeah.”
Naturally, there were many players who didn’t want superpowers. They wanted the fantasy of being ordinary mortals who stood toe-to-toe with virtual gods, or of being epic heroes who hunted and won their powers rather than being granted them. Likewise, there were many within the world of the game who viewed the Beacon’s gift with suspicion. After all who was this alien, to come from another planet and place such power in the hands of ordinary citizens?
That’s where the Shadowman faction came in. Shadowman, Hero of Mankind, was a master of stealth, intellect, and hand-to-hand combat. He believed that all humans already possessed the ability to face the world’s evils, and so he had invented and distributed The Drink, which was readily available at any I.A.H. facility. Drinking it immediately neutralized a character’s Power stat. You couldn’t get the points invested there back, and The Drink couldn’t remove any already-manifested powers, but it effectively took heroes out of the system for acquiring random powers and kept those they had from growing stronger.
“If you neutralize your Power stat, you get three points every level. With an active one, it’s just the two: one in Power, and one on the sheet.”
Tisha nodded, half-listening, and seemed to think a moment longer before deciding not to move the point. She saved the sheet with a few taps and stared Robin down over the top of her phone.
“How do you know all this? You’re not much higher level than me.”
“Do you remember when you were first registering, and the game showed you three blank characters queued up for the generation tool?” Tisha nodded. Robin shrugged. “That’s how. This character isn’t my original. It’s an alt.”
Because there were so many ways to play The Golden Age, players were encouraged to use multiple characters. A basic subscription to the game came with three character slots, and dedicated players could buy additional ones for a nominal real-world fee.
“Wait,” said Tisha, her eyes lighting up. “Does that mean you have friends from your other character? We should find them, let them know you’re okay. Where do they usually hang out?”
Robin bristled. An icy fear slid down her spine. “That’s not a good idea.”
She could read the “Why?” forming on Tisha’s lips but, before it could be voiced, an amplified shout echoed through the concrete plaza.
----------------------------------------
“Players of The Golden Age, may I have your attention please!”
That voice was like a knife-blade straight to Robin’s heart, even distorted as it was by the amplification of an electronic speaker. The crowd’s attention snapped upward to a pair of tall figures poised atop levitating disks. One held a chair in which a blonde woman sat, dressed in high-tech gear that, like the disks, glowed gamer-green. The other was empty, save for a standing man in navy blue, whose tactical super-suit included a distinctive archer’s chest guard and quiver.
Both disks had speakers built into their base, through which the man was speaking with a microphone. The woman’s eyes were hidden by an opaque visor, but from the way her fingers moved and her head stayed ducked, it was clear that the device across her knees was a soundboard.
“You may or may not recognize us. This is Wiz Kid, and they call me—” He winced, visible from the crowd. “Zippy. We’re here on behalf of the Silver Sentinels, the largest player team on the server.”
A titter of relief and recognition swept through the crowd. Zippy and Wiz Kid were two of the six level-capped players known as The Core, the founders and leaders of the Silver Sentinels team, who were renown for their participation in raids and special events. Anyone who pulled out the Analyzer could easily confirm their identities; their Reputation was so high that all characters would be assumed to know of them, even if their players didn’t.
Wiz Kid tapped something on the side of her chair and the two disks began to lower, bringing them closer to the crowd that had started to build again to hear their announcement. Zippy continued.
“Based on the game clock, we have approximately two hours until nightfall. If you don’t know, the nights in this world are long and often dangerous for those wandering the streets. When we were players, this was ideal. But now this isn’t a game. You may be scared, or confused, or angry, and we get it. This isn’t the time to be playing hero. Especially when you can’t log out and have no home to return to.
“That’s why the Sentinels are opening our guild to all players level 25 and lower. Come to our headquarters tonight, and you’ll get a bunk. No questions asked.”
Their disks settled on the ground and several players rushed forward immediately. Before Wiz Kid could cut the feed, the mic picked up their questions: “Do the Sentinels know what happened?” “What do you expect us to do?” and, loudest of all, “Where’s Knightblade? Why isn’t he—”
click.
The crowd surged forward in twos and threes, leaving Robin at a distance with her stomach doing back-flips. Part of her wanted to rush in alongside them, shove her way to the front and throw herself into Zippy’s arms, just to bask in his presence. But the shifted weight of her new body held her back.
Seeing her like this…god, what would he even say? What could she tell him?
Beside her, Tisha breathed a sigh of visible relief. “Thank goodness. At least someone has their head on straight.”
“You should go with them.”
Robin stared at the ground, but felt Tisha’s gaze turn her way. She didn’t dare look up. Didn’t trust herself not to break the unsteady mask of calm she could barely hold.
“The Sentinels are a community-support team. One of the biggest. If anyone can get a handle on this mess, it’s them. They’ll take care of you.”
Her voice cracked on the last word as her throat tightened. Without looking up, she bit her lip, turned on the heel of her sneaker, and bolted out of Golden Ratio Park as fast as she could run.
Tisha whirled after her, long hair arcing with the swing of her head. “Robin? Robin!”
But she had already fled.