The board carried on much the same until the end; mostly a bunch of rangers and mages who had extremely little downtime while soloing in the world. It was Azrael who impressed me the most, as he’d taken longer than most on the board but as his class was considered harder to level, he’d secured fourth place. Very impressive stuff.
There were absolutely no scavengers on the board. Barely anyone had chosen to play that class. It was a bit of an oddball, all looting and crafting items from what they’d found, just as the name suggested. Lots of utility in the items they could make, apparently, but they were meant to support others, not dish out sexy damage numbers or take punishment like a tanking class.
The reason I was interested in them was for the economic branch of their talent choices. Ostensibly, they were for players who wanted to roleplay their way as a merchant or traveling trader. I’d also be rolling as a regular old human character because they had a racial bonus which gave them ten percent off items bought from and sold to NPCs (that’s non-playable characters).
It’s not such a grand plan when you boil it down. I’d be making a human scavenger because scavengers were the best for everything in-game that was gold related and humans had a small boost to their trading. Hardly stellar min-maxing but there you have it.
Some items were selling for hundreds of gold right now, including crafting materials. Arcane Crystals fetched as much as one thousand gold because they were used in the making of the best current endgame weapons and armor; those items that were prized by the top guilds who wanted an edge for sponsorship deals. There was one sale on the auction house that had found its way across all the commentary channels – an item called the Orb of Deception that had been put up for auction during the first week of the launch and went for over ten thousand gold. I’m not sure what the real world value of that transaction would have been, but I’m positive someone sunk a ton of money into getting that much gold so early on in the game’s life.
I didn’t expect to achieve such feats in a single weekend. I’d need to invest some playtime to set up my character, level it, gather gold to buy the crafting tools that I needed, reach the capital city and the other sundries of beginning a new game. Still, I planned on being relentless this weekend and if I could make a few hundred dollars’ worth of gold, then I reckoned I’d be onto something.
It should be enough to convince those around me that I wasn’t wasting my time, at least. Once they accepted that, I could go ahead and try all the other classes out too and just have fun.
So that was my plan in a nutshell. And honestly, I couldn’t have been more excited by it.
Out of the dimmed window of the hover tram, the cityscape began to change. Sleek modern buildings that weaved metal, glass and organic materials together gave way to the cramped brickwork buildings of the old city. Streets narrowed, five lanes moved into three and then two. The buildings weren’t as tall here, yet they seemed to block out more sunlight and I dialed down the filter on the window to compensate.
My fellow passengers had changed as well, from students to workers. Soon, they were replaced by older denizens of the inner city, wearing frayed, ill-fitting clothes and displaying brands that had gone bust during the crisis of the early 40s. I was closing in on the last stop on the line, and it was like traveling back in time.
A lot of folks who’d been caught up in the downturn twelve years ago still hadn’t escaped it. My parents had just about managed to but no more. You can imagine why they lavished praise on my doctor of a sister, Julie. Scholarships galore for her but not for me. I’d built up a debt instead. And while they smiled and said they were proud, they couldn’t quite hide the flicker of nerves about the mounting bill. Sure, I’d applied for loans and got them but if I keeled over dead tomorrow, then it would be my parents who’d have to foot the bill. Weird system, right? Most debt gets written off with bankruptcy or death but a student loan, that shit will haunt those who you leave behind.
One saving grace had been my course choice. Genetics these days was a lot like computer coding had been forty years ago; it was starting to be used by pretty much everybody, but not enough people were highly skilled in it yet.
It wasn’t glamorous, spending countless hours in front of a screen, tapping out sequencing. Despite what the media will have people believe, you can’t rebuild your whole body the way you want to. There’s only so far that you can go in manipulating your own personal coding before things get royally effed up. You can make your jaw more defined, but you can’t go from a rounded mess to chiseled in one fell swoop. You might be able to make yourself grow an extra inch or two but not much more before things get dangerous. Other body parts may be shrunken or – as is more often done – enlarged, but honestly, you can’t always tell the difference between the before and after photos. Everyone has a slightly different coding, so there’s only so much that can be done. There are no cookie cutter builds for people. Real life isn’t a game.
Real life has limits.
It has wear and tear; it’s a reality where those who win at the genetic or social lottery get an unfair advantage over everyone else. Sometimes, skill, brains and effort will get you where you want to go but there are no guarantees in real life. Games just aren’t like that. No developer in their right mind would have every player start with randomly allocated stats, with some people starting as gods and others as runts. It would be unbalanced. It wouldn’t be very fair. That’s why I prefer games. Technology had reached a stage where living in the digital sphere was fast becoming a real possibility.
Virtual reality gaming would be the great democratizer of life.
Another ping-pong from the speakers was followed by a droning beep.
“We have reached our final stop where this service terminates.”
Everyone got to their feet, heading for the opening doors. After packing my phone back into my bag, I shuffled onto the platform with everybody else. But whereas most of the people around me looked downcast or tired, perhaps going to or coming home from work, I was smiling.
Before dark, I’d be in Hundred Kingdoms at last.
3
By six-thirty, I was standing outside my destination: the Paradise Hotel on Turk Street. The irony of the name couldn’t have been blunter, although the smashed glass of an upper window gave it a good try. Being early evening, the streets were packed, and I gripped the handles of my grocery bags tightly, as though fearing imminent robbery. It wouldn’t be sunset until about eight-fifteen, but I admit I was glad to be heading inside where the promise of a room with a locked door awaited me.
I wasn’t that deep into the Tenderloin, being close to what most considered to be its ‘southern border’, Market Street. But I wouldn’t say I was brave or used to this. Nor would my scrawny frame do me any favors here. And I was probably being incredibly prejudiced against the folk who live in these parts—
An earsplitting crack rent the air.
Next thing I knew, my legs had powered me up the steps and into the Paradise Hotel. Had that been a gunshot? My heart was thundering again, and I tightened my grip on my shopping bags. There weren’t any sirens blaring. Most likely it was just a back-firing car – man, I was on edge about this. Maybe I should have just bolted the door to my bedroom shut and hoped for the best. Damned Lucas and his fawning over Julie. He’d rat me out the moment that he realized I was playing.
Well, I was here now; no good turning back.
I walked up to the reception, or what passed for a reception. It was more of a large hole in the wall with a reinforced steel shutter. Not a promising sign. There was an actual honest-to-God brass bell on the counter that looked like something you’d see in an old movie. I tapped it and it rang rather daintily.
Nobody came.
Perhaps I’d picked the wrong spot. I’d researched as best I could and found this ‘hotel’ to be a frequent haunt of gentlemen with specific virtual reality needs. Basically, the internet connection was good enough to hold steady during a digital orgy.
It was a sign of my desire to get into the game quickly that I remained where I was and rang the bell again. And again, and again.
A determined gamer won’t be stopped, I tell you!
At least I had the forethought to grab supplies from a megamart before hopping onto the cable car, hence the big brown bags. I’d munched a choco-nut protein snack as the old rust bucket had trundled north-east up Market Street. Okay, fine, I ate three of them. With bags full of protein-rich bars, meals to be rehydrated, energy drinks, and bottles of water, I should be able to proceed as planned with minimal breaks.
If I could get a room that is.
I rang the bell again.
At last, something answered, namely a swinging door that was somewhere out of sight behind the reception area. The door crashed against the wall and heavy footsteps padded their way in. They belonged to the heavy-set middle-aged dude lumbering into view behind the counter. He was entirely bald on the top of his head, but the sides and back were tangled in overgrown black hair. A bulbous nose sat between small but shrewd eyes, and his brow glistened with natural oils. He wore only a thin white vest covered with sweat patches over coarse chest hair. I couldn’t see below the counter, but I prayed he wore at least something in that region.
“Hang on,” he grunted, then began pressing at buttons that I could not see. An air conditioning unit whirred to life, blowing up his messy hair. None of the cool air reached me, unfortunately, and my palms remained positively slippery as I continued to grasp at my grocery bags.
“Christ, that’s better,” the landlord said. He returned his focus on me, giving me a dirty look and running his eyes up and down me. “Here for a room?”
What else would people come here for, I thought.
“Y-yes, please,” I said, unable to hide my nerves.
The landlord gave me a grin worthy of the fattest of cats. “I got room thirty-six free. How long you want it?”
“Two nights… with an option for a third, if possible,” I added hastily.
“I reckon that’s possible,” said the landlord. “Cash or palm?”
“Cash.”
“Two hundred.”
I didn’t dare to haggle.
“Sure, hold on,” I said as I began rummaging in my bag for the cash. I hesitated in handing it over. “Can I get a lock on the door?”
“All rooms come with a lock.”
“Does it work?”
He scowled. “D’you think I don’t take care of my place?”
“No, no, no, not at all. I was just—”
“You want it or not?”
“Yes... here.”
Resigned, I handed him the money. He counted it out twice to be sure.
“Hand over your bag. Need to check what’s in there.”
Fearing I may never see the bag again, I passed it over. The landlord brought out a metal detector which immediately wailed.
“I won’t have weapons in my hotel!”
“It’s not a weapon. It’s a… it’s a VR headset.”
He scowled again, unzipped the bag, pulled the VisionXcape360 headset and dropped it roughly on the counter. Honestly, it would be a miracle if the thing still worked at this point.
The landlord sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Seems in order.” He pushed the headset halfway across the counter to me and then stopped. “Internet connection. That’ll cost extra.”
Something about his smirk told me he was lying. Paying for ultra-speed internet hadn’t been a common thing since the turn of the decade, and while it was true that not every district of the city had stable and free connections, I knew this guy was taking me for a ride. Even if I’d had the balls to question him, I’m not sure I would have. I was itching to get upstairs and get into Hundred Kingdoms. Perhaps the landlord could sense my unease, and the slight twitch I had developing in one eye wasn’t aiding my cause.
“How much?” I asked meekly.
“Four hundred all in.”
“You’re just doubling the price.”
“Five hundred.”
My jaw fell slack.
He chuckled. “None of my business what dirty shit you’re into kid, but I’m guessing you’re here because you don’t have anywhere else to get your jollies.” He sniffed theatrically. “You’ll want to be online without interruption. So, if you want your kit back, and a room, pay up before I add on any more.”
A mixture of anger and dismay flared in my cheeks. If I didn’t give him the cash he’d close his steel reinforced shutter, laugh, and take my possessions for himself.
“Fine,” I said in a low voice. I presented the extra money and he handed back my bag and headset. He followed it up with two keys.
“This one’s for your room. This is for the bathroom. Room thirty-six. Third floor. Internet password is on the keyring. Now scram.”
I scooped up the keys and made for the stairwell. If I’d had a tail, it would have been between my legs.
It was dark on the stairs, with only a couple of narrow windows high up and no light switches as far as I could see. The air was close and humid, and after the second flight, I had to pause to cough and catch my breath.
That’s when I heard a humming coming from above me. I discovered the source of the noise was another middle-aged man, only he was the antithesis of the landlord, with a body like a garden rake. The smell of booze was strong even at this distance. The man stumbled as he crested the top of the stairs, falling to his knees. He simply laughed.
“Whoops. Let’s try that again,” he said before pulling himself up.
Tentatively, I continued up the stairs and emerged onto the third floor. The drunk had collapsed about halfway down the corridor, still humming. I stepped quietly as I could to check the number on the closest door, though I feared my huffing and puffing would give me away. I passed number forty-two, forty, thirty-eight—
“Hey, hey,” the drunk said. He was flopping around like a beached seal, pointing a long finger at me. His eyes fell on my grocery bags. “This – this is such good service. I wis needin’ something to eat.”
My eyes fell to my toes as I silently drew up before room thirty-six, placed my bags down and fumbled with my keys.
“Hey, hey you,” the drunk slurred. “I’m talking to you. How com— how come you won’t look at me, eh?”
The keys rattled loudly as I tried to place the right one into the lock. In the dim hallway, it was hard to tell which was which, and in my panic, I dropped them entirely.
“Goddammit,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that?” the drunk said. He was stumbling upright now. “Look, just give me my stuff and we’ll call it even.”
I scrambled for the keys, managing to fit the correct one into the lock this time and turned it. I could hear the man heading for me as I pinned the bags awkwardly between my arms and bundled inside the room. A bony hand snatched at my side and I heard paper tearing. Over the threshold of the room I turned, and a few choco-nut bars slipped out from the hole in one of my supply bags. Instinct took over and I kicked the snacks out into the corridor. The drunkard leapt after them like a dog chasing a stick.
Heart pounding, I closed the door and looked for the lock. At least this thing was state of the art. A black box ran up from the handle and once I activated it, a series of small metallic beams began interlocking with a connecting device on the doorframe. Short of cutting through the door, nobody was getting through that.
My shoulders slumped at the thought. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been for the past couple of hours and I had aches in places that I didn’t even know could ache. I unslung my backpack and put the market bags down carefully, so as not to let any of the cans of energy juice fall out of the ripped one. Once satisfied there would be no explosion of the sugary beverages, I finally took a proper look at my abode for the next few days.
It didn’t take long to drink it in. A match in a matchbox might have complained about the space. There was a small single bed, a chipped mirr
or above a sink that may once have been white, a filthy set of blinds drawn up above the window and an air-con unit that looked about fifteen years out of date. It was sweltering in here, so I moved to switch the cool air on. Broken. But, of course. I opened the window as wide as it would go instead and returned to sit on the bed. It was hard and springy, and singularly uncomfortable.
With a sigh, I reached for one of the bottles of water, taking a large and much-needed gulp. I’d just been threatened for money and chased for food. Might even have heard a gun go off too. What a night.
Time to crack on with it.
First, I connected both my phone and headset to the Wi-Fi. I started with the headset because it would need time to patch any client-side updates to Hundred Kingdoms that might have come. The bulk of the processing power was handled by the Frostbyte servers and the headset was more like a giant phone that you dialed in on to play. It also meant that you had to lie down and enter a state of near-coma to interface with the virtual world.
The headsets were still like old gaming consoles and always had to be plugged in. This was partly to eliminate the risk of power failure as a sudden shutdown could cause nasty side effects. There hadn’t been any incidents from VR headsets for many generations of the tech, but no company was confident enough to try running the thing by battery power alone.
With the VisionXcape360 plugged in, connected and patching, I turned to my actual phone. I bashed in the password to access the Wi-Fi and the screen blazed with notifications. My mom, dad, and Julie had all sent me their luck before I’d gone into my exam and then congratulated me when it was over. My mom had sent some follow-ups trying to wring info out of me about how it had gone.
I felt a twinge of guilt for the deception I was playing, but it passed. Never once did they encourage Julie to stop playing her saxophone or spend less time training for the swim team. There’d been so many 5am wake-up calls for my mom and dad to take her to the pool before school without complaints, whereas I’d got a stern warning after just missing dinner a few times because of a vital raid night. Didn’t seem fair in my estimation.
Battle Spire Page 2
