by Rachel Ford
Another time, a party of bandits sprang out of the thickets running along the roadside. It would have, Jordan told him, been an easy fight with their companions. He scoffed. “We don’t need companions.”
Which technically was true: they both survived, but he had fifteen hit points left, and she had eight. Still, he grinned. “See? What did I tell you.”
She shook her head at him. “I just hope your companions reappear after this leg of the quest wraps up.”
He frowned, running from body to body in search of loot. “I am curious about something.”
“What’s that?”
“How the heather did this pass testing, if your companions vanish as soon as you get here?”
“The alpha testers were playing an old build, and some of them were playing one map at a time. So – for myself – I’ve never played it in full, start to end. Not yet. And a lot of the alpha testers were working with the old companion system, where some of them didn’t work together.
“The beta release build – what we’re playing – is where we finally scrapped it.”
“Why’d you scrap it?”
“Mostly, because it was too buggy. If we had another six months to work on it, we probably could have them all ironed out.”
He snorted. “Don’t ask me to volunteer for testing.”
She laughed. “I won’t. Anyway, you’re not volunteering. You’re getting paid.”
“Hardest money I ever earned. Which is weird, because playing videogames for a living is basically a dream come true. Except it’s really a nightmare.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about the companion system anyway: we scrapped those tests. They weren’t doing as well with our focus groups. They liked the option to have the conflicting companions, as the conflict tended to keep the game light.”
Jack considered for a long moment. He’d wanted to strangle them all at times for their bickering. But he could see how, when you could come and go as you pleased, people might enjoy the squabbling. Maybe.
“And there’s lots of different companions you can pick up, depending on how you play. Your play style attracted the specific ones you have. But other than Migli, who you end up with rests entirely on you, and your choices.”
“So, you mean, I didn’t have to get Arath?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Ugh. You couldn’t have told me what I was doing wrong in advance?”
“It’s not that you were doing anything wrong, Jack. You just needed a ranger on your team. If you’d built those skills for yourself, the game would have assigned one of the rarer professions.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you’ve got an assassin –”
“Wait, what? Who?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Um, Karag?”
“Oh. That’s right. He was arrested for killing someone, wasn’t he?”
“Multiple someones. And that’s just who they caught him killing. He’s an operative for the Obsidian Isles.”
“So why’s he working with me?”
She sighed. “I shouldn’t tell you. If he was still here, this part of the quest is actually where you learn about his backstory.”
“But he’s not here.”
“Alright,” she nodded. “Basically, he blew his cover, so if he goes back, they’ll kill him for disgracing his commanders.”
“Rough gig.”
“Yeah.”
“Still, who chooses a giant as an assassin? Shouldn’t an assassin be small and discreet, instead of – you know, giant?”
“Only giants live in the Obsidian Isles.”
“Oh. I guess that limits their options some. What about the other companions, though? Am I supposed to be bonding with any of them?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. But this is where Ceinwen and Karag make their peace. So – you may have some issues later on.”
“Oh great.”
“Arath spends this part of the quest getting on everyone but Migli’s nerves.”
“I can definitely see that. Does he ever get better?”
She shook her head again. “No.”
“I really wish you warned me.”
“Well…the other characters are all problematic. He brings a little chaos to the team; but whoever you got would have done the same.”
He frowned. “Why do we need chaos?”
“Keeps things interesting.”
“So what are my choices?”
“There’s a healer in Kaldstein, at The Dragon’s Cup.”
“I could have used a healer.”
“Yeah, but she’ll aggro any baddies on the map. She goes out of her way to do it.”
Jack wrinkled his nose at that. In gaming parlance, that meant the healer would go out of her way to provoke fights with any possible enemies on the map. Which ruled out any kind of stealth approach to the game, since she would draw fire from every baddy around. “Why?”
“She’s got a tragic backstory of her own: dead parents. No, wait, that’s Sv’nte.”
“Who is Sv’nte?”
“The apprentice smith you could have got in Little Valley, along with Er’c. But then, you would have only added two companions in Kaldstein. And Ceinwen wouldn’t have been an option. Anyway, Avanthe is just kind of a psycho.”
“Avanthe?”
“The healer. She just likes killing things.”
“Charming.”
She shrugged. “It’s all about actions and consequences and reactions. Everything you do impacts your choices later on.”
“And, apparently, lack of choices,” he said, a touch sourly.
“Exactly.”
“So how many other companions were there, that I could have got if I did things differently?”
“Um…” She thought for a second. “I think there’s just over two dozen total. Unless they dropped the goblin twins.”
“Wait, the what?”
“I can’t tell you about that.”
“Why not?”
“Because, if they didn’t drop them, there’s a whole side quest coming up to add them to your team. You know, once you can have companions again.”
None of Jack’s pleas could persuade her. Not even his guilt tripping did the trick this time. On the contrary, she’d learned from him; and the pupil was well on the way to outstripping the master. She launched into a long, self-pitying arc about how much work she was putting off to help him, and how much trouble she’d be in if Avery found out what she was doing, and how much she’d already done – and risked – for him.
By the end, Jack was ready to apologize himself. But she just laughed and nudged him. “Come on, I’m just giving you a hard time. I don’t have much going on most days. Not now that we’re in test mode. That’s why they got me babysitting you.”
“You mean, why you’re so lucky as to get to spend your days with me?”
She snorted. “Nope.”
They found a hidden bandit treasure trove that brought Jack’s money up to a whopping one hundred and four gold, and added twenty arrows to his inventory. Just down the road, they passed by the ruins of an old castle. Jordan told him, “It’s a basic, low level dungeon. If you want to level any of your skills, there’s some perfect baddies in there for it.”
But Jack shook his head. “I want to get home, Jordan. The sooner the better.”
“Alright,” she said, “but remember: all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
He grinned at that. Which was the beginning of a long and terrible series of puns on his name. Whenever he had the opportunity, Jack dropped one of them. Racing toward a checkpoint or a treasure chest? He’d tell her that he’d get there before she could say Jack Robinson. When she mentioned that if they ran into the undead, they’d need to kill them all, lest they rouse their comrades, he promised he’d do so. “Every man jack of them.” If she asked him to do something, he’d tell her, “Nah, I’m alright, Jack” – right before he did it. And when she
didn’t have an answer to a question, he’d sigh theatrically, declaring, “You don’t know Jack.”
To which she took to sighing in turn, “If only,” or, “I’d be so lucky.”
All in all, he had great fun with it. He figured Jordan found it less funny. His first giveaway was her warning, “So help me, I’m going to murder you, Jack.”
The real tell, of course, was when she started to chase him with fireballs. It happened after he described himself and his skillset as a jack-of-all-trades. To which she responded, “That’s it, now you’re going to pay.” And began firing flaming red orbs his way.
Jack ducked and dodged and fired back, and before long they were engaged in a full on fire fight. He hadn’t been involved in a snowball fight in a good decade and a half or so, but this reminded him of those games. Except, instead of icy projectiles, these were fiery ones; and he didn’t have to worry about anyone putting rocks inside the snow, like they had in high school. He didn’t have to worry about pain at all, because even when Jordan’s fireballs hit and he dropped health points, it didn’t hurt. The beauty of videogames.
He was having so much fun that he missed the start of a low, ominous drumbeat. He didn’t think twice about the stray animal skull he passed, either. He had a fireball coming straight to his head; he didn’t have time to think about anything else. So he dove hard and fast to the side, and rolled into a sitting position.
Then, he heard something creak and crack; and he felt the earth give way underneath him.
Jack plummeted a good fifteen feet, straight down. He registered a loss of ten hit points, but no further damage. His situation was a lot more concerning than his health meter, though. He’d dropped into some kind of long, manmade chute. He could see an old, rickety trapdoor overhead – or rather, what was left of it. Part of it landed at his feet, and parts of it remained above. His weight, he figured, must have broken it. By the door, he saw a rope ladder – all tied in a bundle. Which would have been fine, if he spotted it before he fell. He could have unfurled it and climbed down.
But he hadn’t seen it. He hadn’t even seen the trapdoor. Whoever put it there had brushed enough dirt and dry grass over it to conceal it.
“Jordan?” he called. “Hey, you there? I need help.”
He saw a tunnel behind him, lit by orange torchlight. He heard the music, too, grim and foreboding. All of that told him he’d stumbled into some kind of trouble. And he didn’t want trouble. Not right now. He wanted to get out of the game; not waste his time hunting NPC’s.
Jordan’s head poked over the hole in the ground, a black silhouette against the day sky overhead. “Sugar. I forgot about this. We need to get you out of there, ASAP.”
He frowned, listening to the music all around him, and the rustle of twine ties as Jordan worked. “Uh…forgot what, exactly? What’s going on?”
“The highlands here, they’re full of necromancers.”
Jack gulped. “Necromancers?”
“Yeah. And undead.”
“Undead? Like zombies or something?”
An icy wind passed over Jack, and a low, unearthly moan sounded behind him. At the same time, Jordan yelled, “Behind you.”
Jack spun around, and found himself face-to-face with some kind of animate skeleton. Or, skull bones to face, in this case, since that’s all the skeleton man had: bones. He had no connective tissue, no ligaments or tendons or muscles. He was just bones, all floating and hovering together. And clacking with every motion.
Jack had played a lot of videogames in his day. He’d seen every kind of undead the human mind had ever conceived of putting in a game. He’d sent countless skeleton monsters to countless underworlds in his day.
But those skeletons had never fixed him with an eyeless gaze that looked so real. They’d never breathed a death chill over him that he could feel wash over his skin, like liquid ice. They’d never been there, large and real and alive. They’d never been something he could feel if he put out his hand to them.
Not that he had any intention of touching this creature. On the contrary, Jack screamed and leaped backward, drawing his sword at the same time.
“A regular blade won’t do it,” Jordan called. “You need an enchanted one. Or one of the undead slayer rings.”
The skeleton man breathed again, and Jack felt every hair on his body stand on end. “What the heather is that?”
“It’s a kind of enchanted ring. Do you have one?”
“I’ve got some magic rings, but I don’t know what they do.”
“Do you have a discovery spell?”
“A what?”
“Dammit, Jack,” she said, though it passed through the profanity filter as, “Dagnabbit, Jack.” At least, he was pretty certain that had been the filter, and not her. “Here.” A second later, half a dozen scrolls dropped down, pelting him on the head.
He grabbed two before they hit the ground. The others landed at his feet. He glanced at the skeleton man. He was two strides away. Jack pulled up his inventory, and the game world paused.
He had four rings among his belongings, and three of them bore an unknown enchantment. The fourth was simply a pewter ring worth twenty gold pieces – which, of course, meant he’d be lucky to see half that from a merchant.
The three enchanted rings all looked different. One was a simple gold band, like a wedding ring; another had a strange, glowing orb of a gem set in the center; and the last had been cast into the likeness of a dragon.
Jack started with the orb gem. It looked good and magicky, like something that might confer some kind of supernatural bonus. So he spent a scroll of discovery on it. It was a simple process. He dragged the scroll toward the ring – all inside his inventory display, all with the game still paused. Suddenly, he knew what the ring did.
Ring enchantment discovered: mage. +30 magicka
Magicka was the magical energy that allowed him to cast spells. Much like his health meter, he had a magicka meter to monitor his energy levels. The ring was a good one, since it meant he’d have more energy to cast spells before he needed to recharge the meter.
But it wasn’t what he needed at the moment. He tried the dragon ring next.
Ring enchantment discovered: dragon kinship. +15 charisma with domesticated dragons. 50% less likelihood of wild dragon attacks.
“Shit,” he said, which came out as, “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit.”
Jordan laughed out loud. “What the heck? What were you even trying to say?”
“Poop. But, more emphatically.”
She laughed again. “Okay. No ring, I take it?”
“Not yet. I’ve got one left, but no scroll. And there’s no way I’m going to reach one before he gets to me.”
“Okay. Well, they’re vulnerable to magic. You’ll have to hit him with a fire spell.”
Jack nodded and left his inventory. The game sprang back to life. The skeleton man lumbered toward him, creaking as he went. He carried no weapons, but he raised his bony fingers menacingly.
Jack sheathed his own sword and conjured up a fireball, which he sent screaming across the tiny gap between them. The monster took the hit square in the chest, and shrieked in agony. Jack shivered at the hellish sound of its voice – something between a wild cat’s screech and a wolf’s howl.
But the hit didn’t stop the skeleton. It kept coming, snarling and hissing. It was only a step away now. Jack summoned another fireball.
At least, he tried to. He called up the same spell he’d just used – but this time, nothing happened. He didn’t feel the crackle of fire and energy in his fingertips. He didn’t feel – anything.
The monster was half a step away by now, and moving quickly. Jack glanced at his magicka meter, and swore again. “Paint me green and call me a cucumber.”
His magicka had fallen to four points. He needed six more than that for the weakest fire spell he could cast – and a lot more than that to do any real damage to a high level opponent.
He brought up
his inventory again, and the game paused again. Jordan called, “What’s going on?”
“I’m out of magicka. I spent it all shooting you.”
She laughed. Again. “Good God, Jack. Do you have a magicka potion?”
He sifted through his items, and shook his head. Which, of course, she couldn’t see, since the game had paused. “No.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you some of those too.”
He nodded again, and reached for the magicka ring. That, at least, would give him one more good shot. “Alright. I’m going to resume.”
“Go for it.”
He did, and the game started up again – just in time for the skeleton’s bony fingers to crush into his face.
Stabbing, paralyzing cold shot through him, and his health meter plummeted. At the same time, a kind of numb terror hit his brain. He staggered backward, fighting to regain his composure and his balance.
The skeleton kept coming. Jordan called, “Potion’s coming.”
But Jack didn’t have time to grab it and drink it. He knew that. Not before he’d take another blow; and one was more than enough. So he drained his last bit of magicka – everything the ring bonus had granted him – and poured it into a fireball. He let it fly just as the skeleton reached out another spindly swipe.
The hand never hit. Jack’s fireball tore the monster into pieces first, and scattered its bones in every which direction. A pile of gold coins dropped among the bones – the victor’s spoils.
Jack instinctively bent for the gold, then went looking for the magicka potion. He’d heard it clatter to the tunnel floor.
He found it under a femur, and, confirming that they were again alone, he dropped it into his inventory. He figured he wouldn’t down the potion until he needed it. Magicka would ebb back, slow and steady, as long as he wasn’t using it. So if he got out of the tunnel before a new enemy showed up, he might be able to save his potion for a future use.
“Come on, Jack,” Jordan called. “The ladder’s down.”
He glanced around again, this time searching for his way out. He spotted it a second later: dark brown ropes that were only a little lighter than the sides of the shaft. He took hold of it, and started to pull himself up. The ropes swayed and groaned under his weight, and Jack clutched on for dear life. The motion was a little too lifelike for comfort.
