Merchant of Death

by Jared Mandani

  The cinematic continued. A voiceover hyped up the images, but John wasn’t paying attention to it anymore. He sighed. There wasn’t an option to skip through the scenes. It was going to be one of those games. He pragmatically opted to formulate his plan of attack rather than be drawn into a glorified advertisement.

  John considered his options. The smart choice was to side with the game’s dominant faction: the Holy Seal. More players meant more potential marks. The trick would be to choose a class that was in demand. Typical players would choose a high-damage option. That meant the market would be flooded with them. John was more than happy to let them have the spotlight. He worked better in the shadows, manipulating things behind the scenes. What he needed was a class that was played by few people but still allowed him to gain power in less obvious ways. In the right hands, information could be just as deadly as any other weapon.

  The voiceover faded out until all he could hear was fast-paced music with a strong drum beat. John read through the synopsis of each of the factions before making his choice. Even though he was already leaning towards the Holy Seal, he had learned a long time ago that even the best plans sometimes needed to be revised or scrapped altogether. Being able to adapt to new situations was part of the reason he wasn’t already dead in a ditch somewhere.

  The Enlightened

  The Empire of the Seven Paths

  The Holy Seal

  Firearms

  Alchemical Potions

  Clockwork Creations

  Cultivators

  Talismans

  Summoning Spirits

  Spells

  Prayers

  Enchanted Equipment

  Governed by vigilante justice, the Enlightened tend to work together in large, mobile armies but have been known to sell their services as bounty hunters—if the price is right.

  Known to commune with the world around them—both seen and unseen—the Empire of the Seven Paths operates on a more spiritual level, giving them the ability to manipulate weak-minded enemies and temporarily raise the dead.

  Driven by a strong sense of chivalry and righteousness, the Holy Seal holds honor and the welfare of the greater good above all else. Known to be the most trusted of the factions, members of the Holy Seal are sometimes called upon to settle disagreements between opposing groups.

  Faction Territory:

  The Wastelands

  Faction Territory:

  Opium Valley

  Faction Territory:

  Sainted Mountains

  Choose Faction Now!

  Choose Faction Now!

  Choose Faction Now!

  Being part of a faction that tended to generate more trustworthy players could come in handy. If civilians were ignorant enough to entrust others simply based on faction choice, then they deserved anything that happened to them. John selected the Holy Seal and waited for the classes to load.

  Bastion Billman

  Advancement Archer

  Skirmish Swordsman

  Holy Priest

  Forward Scout

  Passive 20% Damage Reduction During Combat

  Damage Dealt Increases by 10% when Health Drops to 25% or Lower

  Passive 15% Accuracy Buff While Hidden from Enemies

  10% Cooldown Reduction when Enemy is Less Than 20 Feet Away

  Passive 15% Chance of Critical Hit When Using Combination Strike

  10% Increase in Health Regeneration When Targeted by Three or More Enemies

  Passive 20% Increase in Healing Done When Only 25% of Allies Remain

  Chance of 10% Increase in Mana Regeneration After Every Fifth Heal Cast

  Passive 20% Speed Increase When Returning to Party After Scouting Mission

  10% Increase in Perception if Undetected Within 20 Feet of Enemies

  Choose Class Now!

  Choose Class Now!

  Choose Class Now!

  Choose Class Now!

  Choose Class Now!

  Reading over the different class options, it was blaringly obvious which one would be the least chosen among the players. Forward Scouts were basically just information couriers that scouted the territory and reported back to their Guild Leader. It was far less exciting than the other classes and would most likely be a thankless job. A smirk curled the edges of John’s mouth. It was exactly the type of class that he could use to his advantage. The final option lit up to lock in his decision. A dialogue box popped up.

  Warning: Characters cannot be re-rolled. Only one character per account may be created. Would you like to continue?

  Confirm Choices and Continue

  Return to Character Selection Menu

  John’s mind was already racing. He quickly confirmed his character. Plans to locate and infiltrate the Holy Seal’s most powerful guild started to form. An inside man would be privy to a plethora of information. If he could sell that knowledge to rival guilds or the other factions, he would be able to lay down the infrastructure for a lucrative, in-game spy network. It was child’s play really. He chuckled under his breath. It shouldn’t take too long to amass enough funds for his identity change.

  EWO’s AI echoed around him. “Class choice accepted. Preparing for immersion.”

  The white shirt and pants that John was originally clothed in were replaced with the basic garments of his class and faction. A loose, brown tunic stretched down to his upper thighs. A poor-quality sword in a flimsy scabbard was slung around his hips. Dark breeches covered his legs. The hem of his pants was tucked into a pair of thick boots, and draped around his shoulders was an all-weather, hooded cloak. He fingered the materials. It was a little coarser than the clothing he was used to wearing, but he doubted that he would be in the game long enough to care.

  A list of recent patches illuminated the air in front of him. He skimmed them apathetically while he waited. Patch 34.8.1: Glitch through solid walls in Cog City repaired. Patch 34.8.2: Blindspot in Bloodvale repaired. Patch 34.8.3: Multi-boxing loophole repaired. Patch 34.8.4: Verification algorithms enhanced. John froze after he read the final patch description.

  “Total immersion in five…four…three…”

  Before the AI could finish its countdown, John felt a burning sensation at the back of his neck. The pain almost dropped him to his knees. His hand flew to the location where his synaptic socket was located in the real world. Digitally there was nothing for him to feel there. The skin was smooth. The burning increased to a searing pain that made his eyes water. Red warning lights flared to life.

  The AI’s voice became garbled in the chaos. “Error, collar not verified! Er-or, coll-r not -ified! Er-Er-Er-Er!”

  John’s heart hammered in his chest. Adrenaline pumped through his body. His fingers clawed at his neck, trying to remove something that wasn’t there. The collar was supposed to slip through most verification algorithms on the SyLVR network, but it looked like EWO had already taken measures to prevent hacked collars from entering the game. The pain was so intense that he could barely breathe.

  Come on, come on! Have a failsafe installed! He mentally pleaded with the collar. His life depended on how well his black market programmer had anticipated possible software updates. John grimaced through the agony, unable to stop a guttural growl from escaping his mouth. Stars burst to life at the edge of his vision. Too much more pain and he would blackout.

  The AI regained its ability to communicate clearly. “New signal type identified.” The warning lights hesitated and then ceased.

  John let out a sigh of relief. Beads of sweat trailed down his forehead. “Thank God!”

  “Reclassifying: new type of bug detected.”

  “What?” John raised his voice in dismay.

  “Preparing hotfix.”

  “No! Do not hotfix! Confirm that the error was a false positive!”

 
“Implementing hotfix.”

  Before he could bark another order, John felt his stomach fly into his throat. The floor had dropped out from underneath him. He was plummeting towards the ground somewhere inside the EWO universe. The air screamed past his ears. John landed roughly on a patch of scorched earth. It took him a moment to analyze his surroundings.

  The sounds of battle raging around him only added to his disorientation. Blood splattered across his face as someone skewered a man in front of him. John reached for the only weapon he had: the starter sword. His hand closed around nothing. Looking down, he saw that whatever the AI had done to hotfix the so-called new bug had corrupted his character. The only clothing on his body was a pair of loose, cotton briefs. A member of the Holy Seal in front of him raised a sword, preparing to strike. John’s eyes widened. The idiotic AI had dropped him in the middle of a full-on battle with no gear at all!

  He rolled to the side, narrowly missing what would have no doubt been a critical blow. John leapt to his feet. The charred earth under him stabbed his soles like shattered glass. A gunshot rang out overhead. He ducked and ran, dodging the other players that had no mercy for a level 01 beginner who was stupid enough to end up in the middle of the max-level battlegrounds.

  John swore under his breath. The smell of gunpowder and sweat stung his nose. Death cries ripped the air. Blood mixed with the char on the field. The gory mud splattered onto his naked calves as he ran. His lungs were already burning. A blast from a talisman threw a man to his right several feet into the air. John quickly changed course, but the battle stretched on for as far as he could see in all directions.

  Ahead of him stood a player garbed in Wild West attire. The man’s eyes locked on him. John recognized the look in his eye. He had chosen his target. The rest of the battle seemed to fade away. All of John’s attention was focused on the pistol pointed at his head. Did death hurt in this game? It was a question he hadn’t planned on answering so early on. His blood pounded in his ears. He watched the player compress the trigger. Nothing happened. Whether the man had miscounted his ammo, or the gun had jammed, John wasn’t certain. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to give the other player a chance to try again.

  Charging forward with an animalistic roar, John bent slightly as he ran. His shoulder would be the first point of impact. John’s body collided with the other player. He braced himself for the moment of collision that would knock his enemy to the ground. Unfortunately, that was not what happened. Even though he had used all of his strength, the player didn’t even flinch.

  John bounced off of the other man’s chest. His health dropped to 10%. The inefficiency of his attack was unsettling. In the real world, his physical prowess would have sent them both sprawling. The realization of his glaringly obvious inferiority formed an anxious knot in the pit of his stomach. For the first time in the last decade, John couldn’t depend on his power to get him out of a situation.

  The cowboy mimed a yawn before drawing back his fist. John anchored his feet a shoulder length apart. He lowered his chin and raised his own clenched fists to protect his face. His enemy feigned a left hook before landing a right uppercut. John’s mouth felt like all of his teeth had been crushed to dust by the impact. Copper flavored blood coated his tongue. His body crumpled to the ground. His vision went black. In the darkness, a game-over screen lit up with red text.

  DEAD.

  John groaned. The closest he could come to describing the sensation was being a disembodied consciousness suspended in empty space. If he still had arms, he couldn’t feel them. Tingles started to radiate out from his core. It was as if every part of his body had fallen asleep and was slowly waking up. Pinpricks of not quite pain, not quite pleasure ran along every nerve.

  When the pins and needles subsided, he let out a shuddering breath. His tongue cautiously ran along his teeth. Still there. The familiar weight of his limbs was a small comfort after the shock of death. The space in front of him showed a loading screen gameplay tip as if he hadn’t just been brutally murdered with one blow.

  Tip: You receive 20% increased health regeneration when inside a city controlled by your faction.

  The game’s AI initiated a countdown. “Respawning in five…four…” The AI’s voice made John clench his jaw. It was already on his bad side. He flexed his fingers, waiting to be deposited into the world again. His stomach summersaulted as the AI spit him back out.

  John surveyed his surroundings. Behind him was a six-foot stone cross. In the distance he could see the line where the lush, rolling green hills changed to the charred battlefield where he had just died. The only garment on his body was the pair of briefs the AI had originally dropped him in with. There had to be a way to see just how much of his build had been corrupted. John started to experiment, trying to pull up his stats.

  He pressed different areas of his body, hoping to trigger a menu. Chest? Nothing. Shoulder? Nope. Forehead? No luck there either. Without knowing the extent of the damage, he couldn’t properly assess his situation. An idea struck him. If he could get close enough to other players, he might be able to learn the controls better. The trick would be getting close without being spotted. It was obvious that players didn’t take pity on lower level characters. Why should they?

  Skimming the surrounding areas, he spotted a wisp of smoke. It was so far away that he almost didn’t notice it. John started to walk towards the grey curls that stretched towards the sky. The green grass was soft under his feet. It beat the hell out of the battleground that he had been dropped into initially. The din of swords and gunshots was muffled. Trees offered him cover to move unseen. A light breeze drew its chilled fingers across his exposed skin. He could smell it now. Smoke mixed with the smell of spit-roasted meat. John silently positioned himself behind a tree a few paces away from a haphazard camping ground.

  Three basic ridge tents were sloppily constructed around a meager cook fire. Two members of the Enlightened faction were squatting close to the fire. One of them poked the red embers with a stick. The other was gazing towards the distant battle that raged on in the scorched patch of land. John felt a tinge of jealousy. Their gear was well-fitted, even if it wasn’t a matching set. In the real world, he could have taken both of them and stripped them for their clothes and equipment. After the debacle of his first PvP encounter, he knew better than to try anything. He would have to level up quite a bit to stand a chance in this area. Finding a starting zone would be ideal. Lower level players could combat against one another on equal footing in those locations. Out here he was a sitting duck.

  The man stirring the embers cleared his throat. “Maybe he respawned on the other side of the Eternal Battlefield.”

  His companion squinted harder at the clashing bodies in the distance. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. We wait here. The client only talks to him, and that’s our meal ticket.”

  “I just don’t get it. Why doesn’t Packard just make his own character and fight his own battles?”

  The player that had been watching the fight turned back to his companion. “Why get your hands dirty if you can pay people to do it for you?”

  The two of them fell silent. John had heard about wealthy men paying guilds to fight on their behalf. It was the new-age version of a dogfight in his opinion. Patrons made bets over who would live, who would die, and the outcome of the battle. Millionaires chewing on Cuban cigars in the real world watched monitors as their pawns were killed over and over again.

  A whine near his ear made John jerk his head away from the noise. He remained hidden from view. If he waited around a little longer, he might learn something useful. The high-pitched hum moved around his head to the other side. He felt a prick on the back of his neck. Without thinking, he reached back to swat away the mosquito that was buzzing around him. His hand touched the location where his synaptic socket should have been. A menu opened in the air in front of him.

  Character Information

  Cha
racter Stats

  Currently Equipped

  Inventory

  Faction: N/A

  Class: N/A

  Guild: N/A

  Primary Profession: UNLOCKED AT LVL 02

  Secondary Profession: UNLOCKED AT LVL 03

  Current LVL: 01

  Health: 42/120

  Mana: 0/0

  Speed: 50/50

  Attack: 25/25

  Defense: 25/25

  Charisma: 25/25

  Weapon Skills: 0/0

  Chest: NONE

  Bracers: NONE

  Legs: LVL 01 Cloth Briefs (Starter item: no stat bonuses)

  Boots: NONE

  Cloak: NONE

  Neck: NONE

  Main-Hand Weapon: NONE

  Off-Hand Weapon: NONE

  You have 0 items in your inventory.

  John read over the information in disgust. Not only did the character corruption glitch his clothing, but it also kept him from having a faction or a class. In a game where factions and guilds helped players advance, he was at a distinct disadvantage. He would also be a target for all three factions. He had no allies. There were no starter items in his inventory. He was on his own.

  Another mosquito whined close to his ear. John frowned at his health bar. He had just respawned. Shouldn’t he be at full health? Another prick against his skin made him itch. Before he could even swat the second little bloodsucker away, his health dropped to zero.