Nigel started to sweat as he read the message.
Greetings Jacob,
We regret to inform you that your account has been put under a temporary suspension pending an investigation. Our anti-fraud system has detected the use of more than one account with an identical source Internet Protocol (IP) address. As a precaution, we have deactivated both accounts in question. If you can prove that the other account is yours, then both accounts will be restored once proof has been submitted. However, it may take three to five business days to verify and to completely restore your account. Please provide two of the following forms of identification to prove your identity.
● Driver's license
● Utility bill
● Credit card statement
● Mortgage bill
Once proof is provided, our customer support staff may need additional verifiable information.
Regards,
Your Friends at Pretzelverse Games
Nigel felt like he had a bowling ball in his throat. The account wasn't hacked; Nigel was caught logging in to more than one account from the same IP address. Although this was not good news, it was far from devastating. At least he had a chance to set things right. Jake was eighteen but might as well be a minor; proving his identity was going to be a bit tricky. Nigel had to think of a good way to convince the customer service people at Pretzelverse to unlock the account.
He immediately called Jake.
“Hello?” Jake answered.
“Hi, Jake.”
“Is my account unlocked?”
“I just wanted to say how sorry I am to delay your—”
“I want a discount for this,” Jake cut him off. “I'm thinking that free is a fair price. You owe me $150 plus subscription costs. Otherwise, I'm going to be taking that out of your ass.”
Nigel was speechless. He had spent the better part of two weeks working on Jake’s account. Plus, he already spent the money; there was no way he could recover from that.
“I want my account and the money by the end of tomorrow or there will be hell to pay.” Jake hung up.
“Wait!”
Nigel had to ask him if he had a valid driver's license. He called Jake again. After a few rings, he heard an audible click and silence. After another few attempts, he was greeted with a prerecorded message, “Your caller is blocking all calls from your number.”
Nigel threw his phone across the room. It hit his corkboard at the far end of the room, then fell to the floor with an audible thump.
Nigel would make Jake listen to reason. He needed a copy of his driver's license. He grabbed his bike and started pedaling north down Sycamore Lane.
Nigel had to squint as he rode into the sunset. When Nigel arrived on Front Street, where he thought Jake lived, he shivered as a cold autumn breeze blew across his neck.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Just a few weeks ago, Jake said he wanted a big brute of a character that would wield a big axe and cast spells as fast as a wizard.
“You can’t have a character like that.”
“Why the hell not?”
“The game doesn’t work that way. There are limitations and balance issues to consider,” Nigel reasoned.
The game was not limited to predetermined profiles (or classes). Points were awarded for completing quests in the game, or by interacting with the world, other players, and objects. Most games relied on experience points from killing things, but The Colossal Machine also rewarded players by doing something that contributed to the world in general. For example, if a character saved another from falling off a cliff or helped another character slay a monster, points would be awarded depending on the difficulty of the task.
Another monitoring system was in place to help combat cheating. If the system detected a large number of repetitive tasks, Game Player Managers (or G.P.M.s) would be summoned to investigate. Other automated systems detected suspicious activity, such as logging on from different IP addresses within a short period of time.
Most of the game's security measures were not public knowledge, but that didn’t stop rumor and fan sites from deconstructing everything about the game. Nigel knew these sites well. Pretzelverse was known to fiercely guard their intellectual property, and takedown notices were sent every day to offending fan sites. A large number of these sites wouldn’t comply since they were in countries where intellectual property laws didn’t exist.
Nigel arrived at Jake's house, confirmed by his mother’s battered Dodge Caravan Nigel recognized from school. The original paint job appeared to be maroon, but the car sported several unpainted black sections. Nigel parked his bicycle behind the patchwork that was the Caravan, then proceeded up the steep driveway toward the house.
A strong sense of dread came over Nigel as he rang the doorbell. As soon as he pressed the button, he immediately regretted it. He felt like running back to the safety of his bicycle. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A dirty-looking curtain was being pulled aside, then was quickly closed. A few moments later, the door swung open and a rather formidable-looking Jake was standing there with his fists clenched.
“What are you doing here, Bonehead?” Jake yelled.
“Do you have a driver's license?” Nigel asked.
Jake seemed surprised by the question. “It's none of your business.”
“It became my business the moment you hired me to level up your character.” Nigel surprised even himself with his bold words. “Pull up that email from Pretzelverse.”
As Jake whipped out his phone, Nigel went on to explain that a driver's license was proof that Jake owned the account and he needed to provide a copy to unlock his account.
“So, if I provide a copy of my license, I can get my knight back?” asked Jake.
“Yes,” Nigel said excitedly. “Can I come inside?”
“No!” Jake snapped. “My mom is inside, and I'm not supposed to be playing games.” As if on cue, Jake's mother appeared.
“Jacob,” his mother said. Nigel recognized her as Martha, his mother’s former co-worker. “I didn't realize you had company.”
“He is not my friend,” Jake said.
“Then who is he?” Martha demanded.
When Jake didn't immediately answer, Nigel said, “Tutor! I'm teaching Jake critical thinking skills.”
Jake started, “Critical wh—?”
Nigel interrupted him. “Critical thinking skills are necessary for kids to learn subjects faster and with more depth. The ability for someone to think critically is important for today's job market.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Martha said. “Jacob, aren't you going to invite your guest in?”
“Uh...yeah, Ma.”
“Great, I think we should work with your computer since there are a lot of great critical thinking sites I want to show you. Lead the way!” prompted Nigel.
Nigel followed Jake into his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, Jake gave Nigel a big push.
“What was that for?”
“For making me look stupid in front of my ma,” Jake said. “You basically said that I didn't know how to think.”
“I had to say something to justify my presence since you blurted out that I wasn’t your friend. And it worked. So now that we’re here”—Nigel gestured toward the computer—“we should get that suspension removed. Shall we?”
Twenty minutes later, the task was done. Nigel helped Jake scan and upload his license. Jake received an email a minute or two later stating that Pretzelverse needed additional verification information, such as a utility bill, to help unlock his account. A driver's license was just one of the steps needed to complete the verification process.
The two stared at the email on Jake's monitor for what seemed like an eternity.
“Not a big deal. Can you get a copy of your electric bill, perhaps from your mother's desk?” Nigel asked.
“No! I'm not going through my ma's things for you. There has to be another way.”
“I don't think there is.”
Without warning, Jake started pounding on Nigel. Nigel yelled in pain as he took another blow to his chin. Nigel did his best to protect himself, but Jake was much stronger and just kept pounding.
After a minute—an eternity to Nigel—Jake threw him against the door and yelled, “Go! Get out of here. Don't let my mother see you!”
Nigel stumbled out of the house, holding his side. Nigel tried to ride home, but the pain was unbearable, so he resorted to walking his bike the rest of the six blocks home.