“I thought you weren't dealing well with violence? I don't want you to freak out in the middle of a gunfight.”
Xen glances at the floor, nervously sliding another Dizzy Fizz into his mouth. “I don't have to play the same games as you to win Koins. I've been getting good at flying planes in this simulator. It's actually kind of neat. You have to-”
“You sure you can fly with all those Dizzy Fizz apps in your system?”
He lets out a laugh. “I might need a few more before I'm stupid enough to climb in to a cockpit.”
I focus on the horizon instead of his words, waiting for the DOTfun domain to appear. “Do whatever you need to do. I'm playing solo.”
Xen exchanges a hurt look with Raev, who offers him a look of understanding or sympathy or something. I don't know.
“I mean, you have to understand where I'm coming from,” I say without knowing what's upsetting them. “We have a limited amount of time. I'm good at solo play. I know that. But the group stuff? It takes time. It takes practice. We don't have that luxury.”
They keep looking out of the corner of their eyes at each other like they're afraid to tell me what they're all thinking.
I change the subject. “Has Raev played games in DOTfun before?”
“Sure,” she says. “Mostly role-playing games. I was always the healer in the group, which means I was totally underappreciated, but whatever.”
She's saying something, trying to make some kind of point, but I don't have the time to decipher it.
“Don't worry,” Raev continues, “I can farm materials that people use for their crafting skills in those games and sell them for Koins.”
“Even if we're not playing the same games,” Xen says, “we're still a group.”
“Truth,” is all Fantom says as she holds up one hand balled in a fist.
I look at all of them. My friends. The people who mean more to me than my own family. Internally, I acknowledge everything they're doing for me. Every choice they're making. Every risk they're taking. Every sacrifice they're... sacrificing. But I can't think of a way to sum it all up. What do people say in situations like this? What's the proper way to say thank you? Do I give a big, heart-wrenching, awe-inspiring speech about how much they mean to me? Do I individually acknowledge how much each step they took with me helped me reach my goal? I don't know.
All I can come up with is, “Cool.”
Everyone acts like they're satisfied with my response, so I choose to move forward, unable to justify the time needed to analyze the social interaction.
When the flying carpet crests the horizon of DOTorg, I can see the first graphical representations of DOTfun. Not much has changed besides a few minor improvements to the polygon levels and some random new NPCs. There's a nostalgic excitement that beats in my chest when the constant display of fireworks explode over the entrance and the wacky assortment of NPCs greet us as we settle into the queue waiting to enter. There's something about the arrangement of everything. Even the smell of stale blood and fresh gunpowder that surround the combat games creates this potpourri that brings me back to a hundred afternoons spent here after DOTedu.
Xen turns to me as we enter the domain and asks, “What game are you-”
“DangerWar,” I answer before he finishes the question.
“You sure, yo?” Fantom asks.
I nod silently.
“There's been a lot of new games released in the last couple years. We could be playin' somethin' more popular.”
“I don't have time to learn a new rule set or gun type accuracy or any of the other factors that could alter my play style. I need to stick with what I know in order to maximize my Koin collecting.”
Fantom banks the carpet to the left and we fly over one of the more popular race tracks, the same one being bet on in Club L33T. We drop Xen and Raev off at their respective game worlds, then dive toward the gates to DangerWar. They look bigger than before, but I'm sure they haven't changed. There's still the giant title bolted on to the forty-foot high arches, and there's still the blank wall that's missing the wooden door leading to DangerWar 2, and there's still the group of players mingling with each other outside, just not as many. They're all waiting to meet other players or bragging about their latest kill or just rethinking their strategies before they head back in to the game.
A few people take notice of us landing, and a few of them take a second glance when they see my avatar. Arkade was far from the only cowboy in NextWorld, so as soon as they look at the social screen connected to the ghost account, they go back to ignoring me.
“Got any tips, yo?” Fantom asks as we make our way through the crowd. “I never played the first one.”
I shrug my shoulders and say, “Kill them before they kill you.”
Fantom rolls her eyes. “Do you want to succeed or not?”
“Of course I do. I'm just-”
“You're actin' arrogant, that's what you're doin'. It's time to grow up, Cowboy. How about you offer me a real answer?”
I open my mouth to argue, then suck in a breath and say, “Okay. You're right. I'm sorry.” I stop and think. “We don't have time to go over the map layouts... that's probably the biggest advantage I have. I know where the weapon drops are. I know where the secret passages are. I know where the traps are. I've played this game a thousand times.”
“Wow,” Fantom says. “I'm so impressed, yo.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I'm not... I mean, I'm trying to say that you're going to have to find weapons on the people you kill. This isn't like the sequel. You start with a pistol and you have to find better stuff, or buy better stuff with Koins... which we aren't going to do because we're going to save every Koin we get.”
“You can get different weapons? Why did they change that in the sequel? That's way more fun, yo.”
I shrug my shoulders and say, “Sometimes sequels aren't as good as the original.”
“So how do we get Koins?”
“By killing them before they kill you.”
Fantom lets out a long, annoyed sigh.
“I'm serious! Your kill to death ratio, how many kills you score compared to how many times you die, determines the payout at the end of the match.”
Fantom glances down at the timer in front of her and says, “We have just over thirteen hours. Takin' into account havin' to contact Worlok, not to mention goin' to the Trash Bin and cuttin' the NPCs out of the game world... I'm thinkin' we got a maximum of ten hours, yo.”
“Fine. Ten hours.” I turn toward the gate that is so familiar to me and say, “Now let's go shoot something.”
01001111
As soon as the game appears around me, I smile. I recognize the map right away. The “Haunted Mansion.” It's the last map that I played in, so it's a fitting way to return.
I spawn in the graveyard, standing next to a sarcophagus. I inhale the familiar scent of dead leaves and look up at the moon peeking out from behind some wispy clouds. I was expecting the overwhelming nostalgia of the game, but what I wasn't expecting is how bad everything looks. The graphics appear jagged and plain compared to DangerWar 2, which is weird because I used to think they looked amazing. Everything looks like a game, like a graphical representation of reality. Even the cold chill in the air doesn't feel like real cold air. But that's okay. It helps me stay focused. It helps me treat this like the task that it is, not some fun escape or outlet for my hostility.
I need Koins. That's it.
I spin around to the front of the sarcophagus and shoot at the chain that's locked across the door. A few bullets chip away at it until it breaks free. I give the stone door a shove and step inside. Caskets line the wall. I know that inside each one is a zombie NPC waiting to grab me, but the third one from the left is different. I slide the top of the casket to the side and find a large machete laying inside. As soon as I pick it up, a sheath appears on my belt and I slide the blade into it.
When I step back out from the sarcophagus, bullets whiz p
ast my head. One strikes me in the arm before I'm able to jump behind a large tombstone. At first I think the gunfire is semi-automatic, but from the sound of the shots, I realize that it's a bolt-action rifle, which makes me nervous. The player has to be experienced if they're firing so quickly.
I check my arm. It's bleeding, but it won't kill me. I poke my head out from behind the tombstone and peer through the thick fog, searching for the muzzle flare when the player fires again. It flashes from the other side of the graveyard, near the cellar door at the base of the mansion. I duck back behind the tombstone, watching stone fragments fly into the air as the attacker continues to fire.
I smile and wait.
Soon enough, the gunfire stops. They ran out of ammunition. I know the person firing at me is dropping the magazine from the rifle and pulling another one from their inventory, and that's just the opportunity I was waiting for.
I spin out from behind the tombstone and run across the graveyard, directly at the other player. I pound my feet into the soft soil underneath me, trying to close the gap between us. My pistol is good from about twenty yards. Any further than that and the accuracy degrades as well as the damage.
The attacker is covered in leaves and twigs, with pointed ears like a wood nymph. I think she meant the scantily clad look of her avatar to distract the male players of the game. Of course there's also the chance that she is a male player in real life.
She's struggling to get the fresh magazine into the rifle, panicking when she sees me charging her. I wait until I can see the whites of her eyes before I pull the trigger. Her head rocks back. I catch the rifle flying from her hands as her body slumps against the ground and dissipates into a puddle of pixels. The name “Bunnee” appears in front of me and a red mark slashes across it.
Without ammunition, the rifle is worthless to me in combat, so I slip it into my inventory. I'll trade it for Koins later.
I don't waste time. I throw open the cellar doors, slash through the thick cobwebs with my machete, and descend into the underground portion of the map. Torches flicker against the stone walls. I hear the clang of metal in the distance, then a large boom shakes the ceiling. Dust and rock fall around me.
When I turn a corner, there's a groundskeeper walking toward me with a shovel. He's an NPC. I know that if I kill him, he's got a key in his pocket that gives me access to a secret passageway through the hedge maze outside. I raise my gun. He stares at me, blankly, waiting for the kill. My trigger finger starts to squeeze, but I can't do it.
He's not Cyren. I know that. He'll never be anything like her. His code is primitive compared to the NPCs in DangerWar 2. He'll never think for himself. He'll never learn anything other than what his programming tells him. He'll never be self-aware. As soon as the deathmatch is over, he'll disappear. But I still can't kill him. He's too close, too much like the NPCs I've sworn to protect. I run past him and turn toward the wine cellar, leaving the thoughtless avatar behind me.
I flinch when a caveman comes running down the hall. He lifts a laser gun at me and fires, but I'm already leaping on to the floor. The lasers fly over the top of me as I land on my belly and fire at him. The bullet strikes his kneecap and he tumbles on to the floor before he gets another shot off. As soon as he lifts his head, I fire again, this time striking him right between the eyes. He explodes into pixels. I lift myself off the floor and run for the laser gun. As soon as I pick it up, another avatar comes around the corner and I realize what the caveman was running from.
I hear a chainsaw sputtering before I see Fantom step into the torchlight. She smiles when she sees me and launches at me, screaming like a maniac and lifting the weapon above her head. I suppose it's meant to intimidate me, or make me hesitate so she can close the gap between us, but I lift the laser gun and fire. The red beam burns right through her chest and pixels spill across the floor.
For a second, I'm pleased with myself. I always wondered if I could win in a fight against Fantom, but then I realize that she may have handed me her death for the Koins, choosing the loud melee weapon just to go out in a blaze of glory.
I put the chainsaw in my inventory and look down at the side of the laser gun. There's a nice amount of battery power left in the high-damage weapon, so I put my starter pistol in my inventory and continue through the lower levels of the mansion.
I find an avatar with a jack o' lantern head. He's dual-wielding pistols, but he's got his back to me so he doesn't even know who kills him. I find a grizzly bear beating a knight with nunchaku on the stairs leading to the ground floor. My laser burns through both of them in one shot. In the dining room there's a pirate with a shark's head that gives me a bit of trouble because he's launching buzzsaws out of a mechanical cannon. I manage to burn off his arm with a lucky shot and he's forced to drop his weapon. After that it's an easy kill.
I'm hyper-focused. Cyren's escape drives me, fueling my violent rampage through the map. One-by-one they fall and soon enough the game is announcing the name of my ghost account as the winner. I know I won't be earning any glory as long as I'm using this account, but I'm not here to coddle my pride. I'm here for the kills. I'm here for the Koins. I'm here for Cyren.
The master bedroom where I killed the final player falls away and I'm left floating in the mists of the game menu. Screens appear all around me with the statistics from the game. Koins pour out of the sky, falling into the treasure chest inside my inventory, but I don't wait to count them. I select the next map.
I'm ignoring the growling in my stomach and the insistence of my bladder. They're telling me to log-out and take care of my real world needs, but there's no time for that. I need to take advantage of every second I have and grab as many Koins as I can.
I need to shoot. I need to kill. I need to win.
01010000
Each map bleeds into the next. I'm killing players on the surface of the moon. I'm killing players in the muddy trenches of an ancient battlefield. I'm killing players in a shopping mall. I'm killing players in desert wasteland. Each death makes way for the next. Familiar faces appear over and over as the same players continue their attempts to beat me. But they never do.
At first I think I'm getting lucky, but then I realize the difference between them and me. They're still having fun. They're still playing a game. This isn't fun for me anymore. I'm not taking my time. I'm not admiring the graphics. I'm working a game world to meet an end. I'm making constant calculations of distance and movement and speed in order to win as fast as I can, kill as many players as I can, and collect as many Koins as I can. Which player do I kill first? Do I pick off the weak ones and let the better players clear the map for me, or do I try to increase my kill to death ratio by taking out the strong players first, leaving the weak ones for me to rack up kills with? Do I use that box of grenades I found or do I trade it for credits? Do I use stealth tactics or shock-and-awe bravado? There are a million questions that I must answer instantaneously, without second-guessing myself.
No matter how drawn in to the game I am, I'm always hyper-aware of Cyren's absence. I'm incomplete without her. I'm lopsided, drifting away from my own center. I need her to tell me it's going to be okay. I need her to calm my mind, my racing thoughts. I need her smile, her embrace, those simple words of hers that always make everything so clear, so vivid. I miss her fighting by my side, but those thoughts bring me right back into the action, because I know I'm doing it all for her.
I can't save the same Cyren that I knew, that exact consciousness, but I can still save the possibility of her, the potential of her. Maybe she'll grow into someone greater. That thought gives me comfort.
The timer counts down faster and faster as my treasure chest fills with Koins. I never waste the briefest of moments to check the number. It doesn't matter. I keep doing the best that I can, and when it's all over, I have to hope it's enough.
When the timer reaches the mark telling me that I've been playing for ten straight hours, I finish the map I'm on. I hack off the Rhinoceros head of
an avatar with a battleaxe on the bridge of a starship and the game ends. The map falls away and I log-out from the menu. I appear outside the DangerWar gates and see the group waiting for me.
Xen rushes over with a large smile, his body wobbling with every hurried step. He swipes his menu toward me, sharing the Koins that the rest of the group made.
“Did we do it? Did we make enough? What am I saying? Of course we did. Right?”
“Give him a chance to breathe,” Raev says as she catches up to Xen. Then she turns to me and asks, “But seriously... did we make enough?”
“I don't know,” I say after I check my inventory and see the grand total. “And I won't know until we put it in an auction and see what people are willing to pay.”
“We don't have time for chattin', yo,” Fantom says as she summons her flying carpet. “Let's go.”
Raev helps Xen on to the back of the rug. With his wobbly stance, he's barely able to stand up straight. We take off into the skies over DOTfun and bank toward the super-highway that leads toward DOTcom.
I must not be hiding my anxiety well, because it doesn't take long for Fantom to lean over and say, “I'm sure it will be enough. There's always people willin' to part with credits to get a head start in new games.”
“I know. I just hope they sell quickly.”
Fantom slaps the carpet and says, “If it weren't for Worlok bein' so greedy, we wouldn't be in this mess. He was never like this before. Credits were the last thing he was thinkin' about. He used to be...”
I'm not sure if she doesn't finish her sentence because she can't think of the right word to describe what he used to be, or if she gets lost in the memory of what he used to be. Her eyes drift off toward the horizon.
I try to picture Fantom in a partnership, but I can't. It's hard to picture the cold, head-strong woman cuddling up next to someone. I have to imagine she often butted heads with the egotistical hacker she called a partner. Perhaps they were too similar, unable to balance each other out. Too much fire and not enough water. Both of them ones and neither of them zeros.
The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point Page 16
