by Charles Dean
“Ah. Right. That. Well, remember what I said after we confronted Dray von Maidbanger? Or, rather, what I said about the GM that was playing him?”
Lucas nodded. “Of course.”
“So, he kept his mouth shut at first, and it seemed like the whole issue would blow over without incident . . .” Liu paused and took another bite of a crostini. She clearly took her time chewing the bite, and Lucas knew it was because the subject bothered her so much. Despite the fact that she had to talk about it, it wasn’t something that she was comfortable with. She was likely hoping that Lucas would let her get away with changing the subject, and he was actually debating whether or not he should when she continued.
“Well, what I didn’t know was that he was just waiting for forty-eight hours so that the servers would drop all of the temporary file logs of GM interactions and conversations. He wanted to make sure that there wasn’t any evidence to contradict his word when he reported me. After that, he made it seem like I was a disgruntled employee and that he was the knight in shining armor who had never done anything wrong. Human resources didn’t even bother investigating the claim or my defense after two of his ugly, self-centered, narcissistic male jerk-hole friends backed him up. He had them submit statements claiming that I was a crazy, obsessed, irrational woman who was so crazy that I would make stuff up just for attention. Then they started spreading the same rumors around the office just to make me look bad in front of everyone else.”
Lucas understood now why she had avoided this topic when she first showed up at his place with a company-issued dive machine. He already wanted to murder the man. “So--”
“So, those jerks tried to fire me! They were going to let me go with just a simple ‘Oh, she’s a loose cannon, a lazy employee,’ but they couldn’t,” Liu said angrily. “They said some higher up won’t let me get fired no matter what!”
Ah . . . that’s . . . my doing, Lucas realized. He hadn’t simply improved the game out of the goodness of his heart. He had bought a lot of the market share, almost 35% of the game’s total stock value, when he started playing the role of the villain. The move made sense at the time and seemed like a sound investment. After all, if he was going to put in all the time and effort to save the company, he might as well make some monetary returns off of it. Not to mention, the stock was valued incredibly low to begin with. No one ever could have predicted that the creation of a new dungeon on noob island would drive the value of the company up so much.
He wanted 51% of the gaming company, but he didn’t have enough liquid assets at the time, and he refused to cash in even a single share of Lu-Yu enterprises, the corporation that he had established with his now-deceased wife. Those he planned to hold on to until the day he died as a reminder of who she was to him and the things that they had done together.
He hadn’t thought the purchase would elevate Liu’s position when he did it though. Now, they couldn’t fire her because they’d be afraid of how he might swing his voting block around at the next stockholders’ meeting. They’re literally just keeping her around so that they don’t tick me off. Anyone with the Internet would know she’s my sister-in-law, and firing the sister-in-law of a major stockholder would be career suicide in this nepotistic world.
“Yeah, well, about that . . .” Lucas began to apologize to Liu for the situation, but she interrupted him and kept going.
“Right? Just because I helped raise the value of the company, everyone is afraid to fire me! But now, because I’m some self-centered, man-hating drama-queen, no one wants to work with me. So, you know what they did? They totally made up some random ‘new position,’ gave me this dive machine, a small 1% pay raise that won’t even cover the electric bill it’s going incur, and then they told me to work from home. Ugh. Men suck.”
“You know I’m a man, right?” Lucas said, abandoning his efforts to tell her what he had done and just shaking his head.
“Don’t ask me to be logical when I’m mad,” Liu huffed. “Just eat your roasted-grape crostini and be happy.”
Lucas had no issue following those orders. He finished off the one that he was working on, washed it down with a bit of merlot, and then took another.
“Not that I mean all men,” Liu continued after stuffing another bite into her mouth. “Just those three. Those three lying, duplicitous, scheming . . . They are the evil ones. And people like them.”
“Well . . .” Lucas frowned and stole a play out of Liu’s book by taking as long as possible to chew before answering. “Well, I’m really sorry you had to go through that, but--and I hate asking--what exactly is your new job?”
“Ah. That. I am now in charge of ‘organic content development.’ The boss’s boss’s boss was so pleased with your little dungeon escapades that people are comparing it to that rolling simulator, Not the Brightest Souls 2, saying it’s the new hardest challenge ever.”
“What the heck does that even mean?” Lucas asked. “Organic content development?”
“Well, it means that I have to find a way to make more content like the kind we made on Hesse. Except, this time, I have to make it on the mainland,” Liu grumbled. She was still clearly irritated, but the subtle switch of topics had taken a good bit of the fire out of her mood. “They’re trying to make it seem like they’re doing me a favor, but they’re not. They’re shafting me hard in the hopes that I’ll just up and quit on my own. The small pay increase isn’t even going to cover the electricity that it’s going to take to run this machine all the time. I’m already taking a hit, and now I have to buy my own lunches instead of getting access to the free gifts that are dropped off all the time.”
Lucas looked at her with a sidelong glance. “So, if you have to work from home, shouldn’t you . . . you know, be at your home?”
“Oh, well. About that. I figured that if I set up here, it would be cheaper,” Liu explained. “I figured that since my kind and generous and doting brother-in-law is so wealthy, he would happily take care of me and let me work here.”
Lucas looked over at the side-by-side machines. “You’re not exactly struggling for money, Liu. Why don’t you just negotiate with the company? Actually threaten to leave and go public with the truth or something if they don’t at least cover your electric?”
Liu’s face twisted around for a moment until she settled into a slight pout. “Are you saying you won’t help take care of me? That you hate my food and don’t want me over here? I see. I guess I was mistaken. I thought that when you put on that gallant, handsome front and stood up for me and told the whole world that you thought I was beautiful, that perhaps . . . perhaps, I really wasn’t trash. That I wasn’t wasted space. But if my presence isn’t worth the few dollars for electricity, then . . .” she sniffled and paused long enough to put on the fake waterworks for a second. “I suppose I can have it packed up and taken out today.”
“You really gonna try to guilt me into giving you free rein of my apartment?” Lucas asked skeptically. He knew Liu’s tricks all too well.
“Yup. And if you don’t give in, I’ll tell sis tomorrow how mean you are when I visit the grave,” she said, suddenly perking up and giving him a wicked grin.
Lucas sighed. He could easily kick her out. Ignoring her and her guilt trips wasn’t a problem. He had done it for seven months before without returning so much as a single call, but if he was honest with himself, he liked having her around. She was pleasant enough company, and he liked her food, the drinks, and the generally good mood that seemed to follow. He knew it, and he knew she knew it too. In a way, he was actually sure that she was forcing this situation on him because she wanted to save him the trouble of asking her to come over more often himself.
“Fine, you win. You can stay,” he said.
“Awesome!” Liu said, picking up her wine glass. “We toast to the first victory of Liu against the evil miserly Lucas in the territorial wars of Lucas’s apartment!”
“Huh?” Lucas, who had grabbed his own wine glass to share his toast, s
topped when he heard the reason for it. “What territory wars? What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know? I’m going to take over this entire place. You’ve conceded a few square feet today, but I’ll get a few more later. I’m the true villain here, even if you haven’t realized it yet. Before you know it, you’ll find that this is my manor, and I’m the boss!” She tilted her head back and cackled evilly.
This woman . . . Lucas felt a tug on the corner of his cheeks. He failed to resist the urge to grin. It’s good to see her in high spirits. He had been ready to punch her boss, her boss’s boss, and her boss’s boss’s boss in the face when he heard what had happened, but the fact that Liu was still somehow having a good time and not letting them define who she was or what mood she was in made him feel good.
“The higher-ups are still going to make me work hard if I’m to keep playing as Xun Guan, the noble Lady of the Imperium,” she declared, “even if I do leech off you and drink wine all day. So, you need to work very hard and become the boss of some new territory soon.”
“Yeah, about that . . .” Lucas began. “Do you mind telling me more about this town we’re about to start in? The meetup is in a few minutes, and I logged off outside the gate like we told the others to do, but I don’t really know what’s going on.”
“Ah. The city . . .” Liu scratched her head. “It’s kind of just, you know, a neutral Reputation farming zone.”
“What do you mean? What the heck is a neutral rep farming zone?” Lucas asked. Unlike Liu, who had a detailed understanding of the MMO, Lucas was relatively new to actually playing the game. He had technically logged in eight months of real-life game time, or twenty-four months of in-game time, but he had spent it all as a lazy wastrel, using real-life cash to buy in-game currency that he spent on food and supplies. He hadn’t learned many of the game’s actual mechanical skills, and there were a lot of advanced topics that he only had limited knowledge of.
“Well, it’s like this. The Imperium city was, but now isn’t, an instanced zone. It’s a large town with tons of people that players often invade to farm Reputation by killing the guards, nobility, and high-level bosses.”
“What is Reputation?” Lucas asked. This was something he had heard of when he first began ascending through the ranks, but he didn’t know a ton else about it.
“Well, honestly, the best way to explain Reputation is this: it’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s your standing with different factions, cities, guilds, etc. Most factions have a sworn enemy, and by killing that sworn enemy, you can improve your Reputation within that faction. Similarly, you lose Reputation with the sworn enemy faction by killing their members. The best way to describe it would be to consider the rivalry and conflict amongst the various were-beast races. The Were-Fox, the Were-Wolf, Were-Rat, and Were-Bear tribes are all goody-goody two-shoes who work together in Hesse to throw off the yolk of the evil Imperium, but in the mainland, they’re actually sworn enemies. They hate each other. So, if you kill a Were-Bear, your Reputation with the Were-Foxes and allied groups will improve, but your Reputation with the Were-Bears and their allies will decline.”
“I see. So, it’s like a sort of pick-your-faction kind of thing?” Lucas asked. He hadn’t realized that the various races hated each other so much or that there would be so much tribal conflict. “What’s the benefit of picking one over another? Wouldn’t it be better to be neutral with all factions? That way no one hates you?”
“Hmm . . . Theoretically, you don’t have to pick one over another. Most players naturally gravitate toward their own groups, at least initially, based just on starting race. Certain quests require you to have picked a faction, and others require you to have a certain amount of Reputation before you can even pick them up. Some merchants even require you to have earned Reputation within an area or faction before they’ll do business with you, and even then, their products might be restricted based on how much you’ve earned. It’s the game’s way of rewarding you for doing well, but it’s also telling you that you’re either with them or against them.
“To be honest, a lot of people just level up their Reputation with numerous factions at the same time by attacking the Imperium. The Imperium is universally hated, so you can build Rep with a lot of people at the same time without really taking any losses. Imperium players were non-existent before you came along, so there really was no downside to it. The only major problem is that it takes forever to gain Reputation that way. It’s safe but slow. The more specialized a hatred is, the more Reputation it yields. The more factions who share a common enemy, the fewer bonuses you get for farming it.
“Wait. Hold on a minute. There are faction-specific vendors?” Lucas thought that was just weird. “That seems dumb. What’s to stop someone from just buying an item at the faction-specific merchant and then selling it to a player that doesn’t have the Reputation to afford it?”
“Oh, the game protects against that too. Well, in a way. It’s more like if someone acts as a middle man, that person instantly loses all of their Reputation with the faction. The factions basically have the same reaction to a merchant re-selling their product that a company would to someone passing out their trade secrets: they’d blacklist them and spread the word not to do business with that person again. Any individual dumb enough to do that would find it nearly impossible to build Reputation with any faction ever again. They’d be branded as a traitor by every group in the area,” Liu explained.
“Oh, I see. So, going back to the Imperium city, when you say it’s a neutral Rep-farming zone, you mean that it’s an area where any player can go to improve their faction standing without ruining their standing with a different faction. It’s a place where you can farm Reputation with a faction while staying neutral.”
“Yeah,” Liu said. “Which makes it popular with Paladin orders and priesthoods that need to be beloved by all in order to unlock their class-specific quests and annoying to others, like Silver-Wolf hopefuls and those after the faction-specific gear and quests that need negative Reputation.”
“So, is there a Human faction?” Lucas asked. He was kind of curious since the factions she all mentioned were racial specific.
“There are a few, but like most racial factions, other races can still join them. You can be a Were-Bear and still have a high Reputation within the Were-Fox faction, even though they’re natural enemies. The Imperium is, more or less, the only racially-specific faction in the game. The Grand Admiral’s is considered by many to be the prominent Human faction since the majority of its members, and all of its ruling party, are Human, but there is Blessed Light, which is made up of mostly Humans, Dwarves, and Alfars.”
“So, just to take a stab at this, but . . . the trainers that Nick, Bonnie, and myself used . . . would those be Imperium faction trainers, even though they are elite classes that other people have access to?”
“Yes. Each faction has its own elite trainers. Some of them are unique in rare cases, but most overlap with what's available to everyone else. The Dark Knight that Nick is being trained in is one that overlaps with a few others, but the Enchanter that you were trained in is unique, and only the Grand Admiral’s faction and the Imperium get access to the Reconnaissance class that Bonnie was trained in.”
“Can players make their own factions? This seems like it would be a really neat function. If they could create their own faction and then track Reputation within the faction, basically as a way of encouraging people to join and then assigning rank based on contribution . . .” Lucas wondered aloud, automatically thinking about how he would make a faction if possible.
“Uhh . . . No, not exactly? They can make a guild, and guilds have Reputation too, but there are no factions for them. They don’t get to pick sworn enemies. They just level up guild Rep by going out and doing impressive things in the world or completing major quests. Honestly, most players complain that it’s too easy to farm, feels pointless, and has no substantive reward at times.”
“Hm
m . . . You’re in charge of organic content creation, so is there anything you can do to change that?” Lucas asked. “I mean, I think it would be good to create a faction within the Imperium, but one that is still part of the Imperium. Most of my guards have non-Human partners since Hesse was full of them, and half of my crew isn’t Human. I’d like to make a faction that represents the ideals of the people following me, if possible, without leaving the Imperium.”
Liu shook her head and shrugged off his question. “Too bad. You’ve gotta work with the hand you’re dealt.”
Lucas knew that really was her take on life. She had been dealt a horrible hand at work, had been sexually harassed and then pressured into leaving the office, even though she wasn’t the one at fault, but she was somehow still optimistic.
“Ugh,” he grumbled. This was going to be another one of those situations where the game actually had some amazing concept, like the dungeon development that he used on Hesse, that hadn’t been opened up to the players. This was starting to look like a common problem: there were tons of great features built in, but players didn’t access them for one reason or another. “Since you work from home now and have basically been stripped of everything, you can’t raise a fuss and push for changes, can you?”
“Nope, not at all,” Liu said with a big smile on her face. “So, let’s just stop dealing with this and go have some fun. I can’t wait to show you around the Imperium city. Even though it’s a little dangerous, that shouldn’t be a problem for us at all.” She stuffed the last crostini into her mouth, poured the remaining wine in with it, and then stood up while still chewing.
“Fine, but one more question. Why exactly are you . . . here?” Lucas asked, pointing to where Liu had set up the dive device.
“I thought we just went over that?” Liu asked.
“No, we went over why you came to my place. But you know that, if you set up next to me . . . Well, there’s a reason why cafes have private rooms and lockers for dive machines, right?” Lucas couldn’t believe that he was going to have to point out the fact that, in order to get in the pod, they’d have to strip. Nakedness was a requirement since the machines would rapidly fill with goo and connect to the body on several points.
