The system confirmed I’d read the message to the end, and the message changed.
Select a faction
Kartoss | Malabar | Free Lands | Random
All the available selections were lit up in red. All I had to do was fix my eyes on an item, and it would instantly change colour to green, changing back as soon as I looked at another item. All clear with navigation.
There were actually many more factions in Barliona, but for our geographical location only these were available. Matty played for Malabar, so I didn’t worry too much about my own selection there. The user agreement said the pod was able to read the upper layer of my thoughts. I fixed my eyes on “Malabar” and mentally pronounced, “Malabar.”
Select a faction
Are you sure?
The “Selection Assistance” option provides the player with reference information concerning each faction.
“Yes. I don’t need any assistance. My selection is Malabar.”
Selection accepted: Malabar
Select the race you would like to play for
| Random
“Random generation.” This phrase was the key to loading the scene I’d read about on the website.
Random generation of character selected
Necessary action: Define parameters for random generation (min. 4).
Parameters:
Faction
Race
Class
Name
Appearance
Geographical reference
Initial location
I shifted my gaze from one parameter to the next, making my selections, until only geographical reference was still red. Players from different factions could easily communicate and collaborate with each other, the only question being language barriers. Still, let’s go for it!
Geographical reference selection
Necessary action: Select geographical reference for your character. After confirming random generation, you can only change your race or class after 30 calendar days.
Parameters:
Choose continent
Go back
Cancel random generation of character
“I need the continent of demons — Stivala. I confirm random generation of all other parameters.”
Instead of a message or a progress bar, in front of me appeared a gray-bearded and long-robed elder holding a staff. Resting his hands on the staff, he bowed his head in a dignified manner and said, “Greetings to you, Free one! You have taken a decisive step.” The old man pursed his lips deferentially and stroked his beard. “Such valour is worthy of reward. Barliona needs brave heroes, and it is encouraging that you are one such. Welcome to Barliona, hero Kvalen!”
He knocked on the ground with his staff, then crumbled into a cloud of pixels, leaving the parameters of my character in his wake.
Initial settings generated
Faction: Free Lands
Race: Tiefling
Class: Demon hunter
Name: Kvalen (name from “reserved” list)
Appearance: Customized appearance of player
Geographical reference: Lok’dar, continent of Stivala
Initial location: Demon-Hunter Training Camp
What’s a tiefling? Never heard of… demon hunter… I can run around as a hunter… Kvalen is, well, Kvalen, who cares? All the rest we’ll deal with later… “Start game!”
The white space darkened, and a ball of mist appeared ahead. It grew, curled, and stretched, forming a silhouette. The figure gained substance and was complemented with features, and when the mist dissipated I saw a horned, tailed, and hooved creature looking back at me. WTF? My first thought was, “That can’t be my guy! It’s a goat! All that’s missing is the beard!” In response to my indignation, a somewhat sparse beard suddenly sprouted. Shit! And where’s my bonus?
The creature eyed me aggrievedly. Its pitch black eyes had no whites. I looked it sceptically up and down, and gave the mental order to “give us a twirl.” This is what they call “customized appearance of player”? The gray canvas coat didn’t hide my spare tire, and the novitiate’s pants refused to stay up on it. Way to go, tolerance! Although it’s true I was even fatter in real life.
So, tieflings are humans with tails, hooves, and goat’s horns. If I bumped into my ex in Barliona, she would definitely say, “I always knew it.” She would also add that it was a hint at my subconscious and a manifestation of my real alter ego. Ugh, I was definitely going to change it in a month. I could just imagine Matty’s face.
With that thought, I decided to learn how to change my parameters. The beard had materialized, after all. I began mentally saying what I wanted to change, and assessed the results. The original image really was a work in progress waiting to be tweaked. I altered the length and ramification of the horns, the appearance of the tail, the colour of the skin and eyes, and various other things, until I got bored.
Since the game was 18+, I ordered the tiefling to undress, and appraisingly sized up its figure. “I want a six-pack!” The game responded humorously by drawing six beer bottles over the bulging belly. Ha ha! “Okay then, I want a sinewy, muscular body with fifteen percent body fat. Oh, excellent!”
My gaze shifted down. Well, it was my customized body, and nobody had actually complained. I decided to leave it as it was. Making peace with my character’s image, I found the Save button with my eyes and read it mentally. Another message appeared:
Birth of a Tiefling scene launched
Description: The race-specific Birth of a Tiefling scene launches every hour. Next launch in 32 minutes. You will be put to sleep while you wait. We wish you a pleasant game!
The tiefling assumed a sprinter’s crouch before charging in a flash toward me, horns down. I felt odd and tried to step out of its way, but couldn’t — I didn’t have a body. At the last moment, when I realized collision was inevitable, I screwed up my eyes and… felt nothing. No impact, no pain. But I couldn’t open my eyes.
The feeling of space suddenly changed. There was no time to even pin down or keep track of the moment. I was just suddenly aware of myself drowsing in a comforting liquid and experiencing fantastical blissfulness. I floated with closed eyes, occasionally bumping into something soft and warm, rejoicing in my own being, and that of the warm, soft thing, and in our bumping. I loved this thing, and I loved our gentle physical contact, and it responded in kind, for in the ocean of bliss there was room for all. There was no need to waste your breath on spite and aggression. Everything around was invoked to give us happiness.
“Arise, my children! Your hour has come. It is time to emerge into the light,” a delicate and seductive voice sang out. Only a mother could speak so tenderly. Mother. I wanted to approach her, and was afraid to upset her with my inertia. I must hurry! I reached out toward the voice, straining to open my eyes. It wasn’t easy, but I tried. Mother would be angry if I was blind or came last. She didn’t like failures, and ate them straight after their birth. There was no place for weaklings among demons.
I broke out in a cold sweat from head to toe. What freaking demon? When I understood the absurdity of my own thoughts, I opened my eyes. Then I screamed. From shock. A normal reaction for a person who finds themselves swimming in a lake of molten lava. The world around was so natural, its colours so deep and voluminous that my vocal cords seized up with fear and my cries were cut short. I managed to save my conscious by concentrating on the game interface buttons, which did not disappear even when I blinked. My brain accepted this as a weighty argument in favour of virtuality, and was calmed. It’s just Barliona, I’m in virtuality, surrounded by a pod, nothing more. Everything’s fine.
I breathed out heavily and looked around. There really was a lake of lava surrounded by cliffs. The horizon line was hidden some distance away, behind the tall, rocky barrier. Leaden clouds hung low in the sky, showering rain down on me through the thunder and lightning, though the water drops evanesced
before they could reach the ground. The lava did not burn; quite the opposite, it was warm and comforting.
Aside from me, another dozen heads were swimming in the lake. Oddly, I couldn’t see a single other player among the newborn tieflings. They were all NPCs. In a state of ecstasy from their unity with the lava — primogenitrix matter — they also floated with eyes closed. My hand reached out by itself to touch my new accoutrements. Curious sensations. Neither the tail nor the horns felt alien, just like I’d had them all my life. Completing my examination, I swam a little front crawl, all the while contemplating my fellow clansmen. Until I realized my mistake — I was not alone here from the real world. Alongside me was a player from the social shelters, for some reason bearing the simple name Eredani.
Reference information
Character names
Within Barliona every character’s name is unique. To provide uniqueness, and to satisfy players’ desire to be named as they choose, composite names are used, consisting of two or more words. There is also a register of “reserved” simple names. This is a fee-paying service. Reserved names can be used free of charge by Premium Account holders, or when a player selects random generation for his character (min. 3 parameters). Simple names are also assigned to prisoners, using min. 10 letters.
When the player noticed me, I nodded to him in greeting, but instead of replying, he pointed to something behind my back. I turned round and immediately began paddling backwards and swearing loudly. It was going to take a while to get used to Barliona. On the shore of our jacuzzi stood the higher demoness Ireness, and behind her, chained to the wall, hung an array of tormented and barely alive beings: orcs, humans, elves. The demoness made a pass with her hand, and one of the victims doubled up in pain. The creature, a onetime paladin, choked on his own shrieks, before his body went limp and gray, and another tiefling surfaced, luxuriating, beside us. A life for a life was the name of this sanguineous scene.
Turning again to the vagrant, I saw him swimming with broad strokes toward the opposite shore. A sensible decision. I had no desire to hang around under Mother’s gaze myself, so I swam after him, carefully detouring around blissed-out tieflings. We reached the rocky shore at almost the same time, but I chose to climb out a little way from Eredani.
I pulled myself half out of the lava and was immediately pierced through by a savage cold. Once upon a time my wife had convinced me to buy a cryochamber, saying something about rejuvenation and rebooted immune systems. Still young and in love, I allowed myself to be talked round without going into the details, but by the time I was wearing wafer-thin clothes and strange footwear with metal heels, I felt most out of sorts. I entered the first chamber without a fuss, simply because I didn’t know what to expect, and was greeted by a temperature of -60. I had to be manhandled into the second chamber (-120) by my colleagues, motivated by the fact that it was already paid for, and assured I wouldn’t notice the difference. Only then did I realize what the iron heels were for: those fuckers outside could hear if I’d died or still hadn’t quite yet attained the grade of White Walker. The only thing that got me through the ordeal without strangling anyone, was remembering I was a real man and could not disgrace myself in front of my dear lady.
Similar sensations awaited me when I hauled myself out onto the shore. But seeing Eredani, who had pulled himself out first, produced a muffled “Woah, shit!” and dived straight back in, and understanding there was no one around to flaunt anything to, I followed his example. Immediate relief and drowsiness, and no wish to exit the lava again. If anyone felt so inclined, they could dig me out.
“In the name of the Light!” A ruckus to wake the dead came crashing through the thunder and the snarlings of the demoness. “Die, spawn of the Abyss!”
Lightning bolts skidded across the lava and produced a light, but nevertheless unpleasant, prickling on the skin. New dramatis personae entered the stage: a sparkling gold warrior, a girl dressed in snow white, and a heavyset, bearded man with a shield twice his own size. My little knowledge of game classes and races was enough to identify a paladin, a priestess, and a warrior. Or alternatively, a human, a she-elf, and a dwarf.
“You’re too late, light boy!” hissed Mother, adding ultrasonically, “They are all mine!”
My body quaked at the shrieks of the primogenitrix, and the upper part of my viewer was occluded by a slew of vibrantly coloured pictograms. Mother’s debuffs did us no harm; the demoness guarded her children most attentively.
Reference information
Buff
A positive status effect on a player, created by increasing one or several of their characteristics. A buff may affect a player indirectly, increasing, for example, their Agreeability to NPCs. The duration of a buff may be specified, or may last until cancelled by the player.
Debuff
A negative status effect on a player, differing from direct damage. As a rule, for any stat which may be increased by a buff, there is a debuff which decreases it.
“You have no power in this world!” answered the paladin no less loudly. He raised his hammer up to the heavens, where it shone brighter than the sun. “In the name of Eluna!”
“Bastard,” said Eredani, wincing with pain. The paladin had fixed the whole vicinity with light magic, unconcerned for our wellbeing. The slightest movement was enough to burn your whole body mercilessly, and it occurred to me that thirty percent pain was too much for me. Trying not to move, I observed the unfolding spectacle. The scriptwriters had gone a touch overboard on pathos for my liking.
“Your paladins were the first to be sliced up,” laughed the demoness, blind to the light emanating from the hammer. “But do not weep, they did not die in vain, for they allowed my children to enter Barliona. It is their home now and you cannot banish them from it. See how strong my children are. It was the power of the paladin’s death cries that made them this way.”
“Beast! Go back to where you came from! I banish you!” cried the priestess, and the white Eluna merged with the yellow light of the paladin’s hammer. The demoness could not hold off this two-pronged attack and she began to wither, as her recent victims had. I remembered from the guides that fire could not harm a higher fire demon, and only sacred light could have any effect on them. Ireness was in a really bad way, and in her death throes she threw out crimson threads to her prisoners, mummifying them on the spot. The instantly released power she kept for herself, though there was little of it, and she was not about to die quietly:
“You shall never achieve anything! This world will be ours!” The demoness scattered like ash, and all was still. Gone was her monotonous gnarling, gone were the prisoners’ wails, gone was the thunder. And in that ringing silence, the footfall of the paladin rang out like the blows of his hammer.
“They are all dead, Bartalin,” said the girl sadly, after inspecting the prisoners shackled to the rock face. “She took their souls with her. I cannot revive any of them.”
“Lorgus, unloose them.” Even when he wasn’t shouting, the paladin’s voice was powerful. “The brothers deserve a proper burial.”
Servants appeared and, under instruction from the dwarf, began to release the mummies from their chains and lay them on stretchers. The paladin and the priestess approached the lake.
“Spawn of the Abyss!” said the paladin with ill-disguised hatred, and spat. His spittle evaporated before it hit the lava.
“Do not be so harsh, Bartalin. They are the sons and daughters of our brothers.” The priestess was more tolerant toward other races. “Children are not responsible for the sins of their parents. Give the volcanic tieflings a chance.”
“You ask too much for the demons! There is only one place for them in Barliona — the eternal chains of the demonologists!”
“They are not demons, Bartalin.” The she-elf was insistent. “Our blood runs in them too — the blood of elves, of humans, of dwarves, of orcs. Do not let the memory of that blood die. There are ever fewer warriors. Ireness will return. Be prepare
d. Instruct the tieflings and send them to fight her. Better a half-demon should die than a human or an elf. We will choose those who can stand against the will of Ireness, we will purify them, we will train them, and we will send them into battle.”
So that was the way it was! Mercy came in no pure form. The priestess saved us not out of kindness, but for the sake of her fellow tribesmen who were hunted and killed by Ireness. Expendables — that’s what tieflings were to the she-elf. Hypothetically, Ireness could only have killed us. We were unfit to be used as food or for bearing new children.
A Second Chance Page 5
