by Domino Finn
Technologically, primitive was a misleading word. Haven was a wonder by any measure of modern computer science, yet it was still a simulation. The contents of the solid-state drive were more akin to a film negative. A mapping of the real world. By that measure, Haven was still in its infancy. It was a JPEG or an MP3. A lossy representation, imperfect, unable to manage the data load of perfect clarity.
To make matters more complicated, it was impossible for Christian to "see" his new world aside from the limited logging capability.
The visualization of Haven was a complex tapestry of real-time code filters, not a mere display of textures and models. Assets, while created by artists in the real world, were processed and expounded through a number of shaders meant solely for the brain. Final rendering occurred with the participation of the simulation, not unlike the powerhouse processing combo of a pair of eyeballs and the visual cortex.
In practice, there were limited workarounds. Individual game assets could be displayed, in part, on workstations. Data for still images could be collected and reconstructed. Even video clips could be generated, given enormous saves of data and insipid rendering schedules. But displaying real-time game events on a screen in the physical world was simply impossible, akin to the difference between the brain's perception of a dream while dreaming and the incoherent mess the waking mind reconstrues.
There was only one way to truly witness the majesty of Haven, but it was still far enough away to seem like yet another miracle.
Christian Everett typed into the console window.
>>Input>> Let there be light.
Then the CEO proceeded to the inevitable task of hooking a living human being into the machine.
1200 Hexen
We huffed in exhaustion on the cold portico floor. Scrambling for your life, it turned out, was a pretty good workout. We'd made it back, but not all of us were so lucky.
"My sister's gonna be pissed," said Crux, opening his menu with a chuckle. In a moment, he frowned. "That's weird. Hex didn't send me a DM."
"So?" asked Izzy.
Lash sheathed her cleaver. "The twins have this thing where they message each other the exact amount of XP they lost whenever they die. Hex is a glass cannon so she dies a lot."
"And she never misses her message," said Crux. "The whole thing was her idea."
Izzy smirked. "She must be really pissed."
"I would be too," I added, "after my own brother abandoned me like that."
Crux dropped his head and muttered to himself. "I better go check on her." He hurried out.
I worked my jaw, unsettled at more than just Crux's performance in the field. "That was a major screwup back there, Lash."
The white helm swiveled my way. "How so? I seem to remember saving your ass."
"You disobeyed a direct order."
"Yeah. To come back and save everyone."
We aggressively squared off. "Helmet off, Lash."
"Why?"
" 'Cause I don't wanna bitch out your armor."
The helm vanished, revealing a scowl from ear to ear. "What do you got, tough guy? Should I have run away like the thief?"
"I'm not talking about that. Earlier, when Hex went down, you endangered the whole group by refusing to leave. And that's on top of whatever your new party members were up to."
She scoffed. "Your roommate was the one in charge of watching them." The treant did a good imitation of a real tree and remained stationary and quiet. "I don't need this crap. All I've done is try to protect you." Lash stormed toward the exit archway.
"Don't walk away from me, Bravo Leader." She begrudgingly paused and turned around. I moved close and stared up at her face. "I've given you full agency to make your own way. You can basically do anything you want. But when we're in a tactical situation and I'm giving orders, you need to obey my command. I'm sure you expect the same of your party."
The white knight bit her lip.
Crux: Something's wrong, guys. I don't think Hex is on lockdown.
The brother-sister combo were Shorehome transplants lucky enough to have grabbed homes in the slums behind the Forum. Crux had hurried home and discovered the necromancer missing. Lockdown rules should've ensured she was nowhere else.
"But she's dead," I muttered.
Lash swallowed. "She was petrified. You think there's a difference?"
"I don't know." We turned to Saint Peter.
He appeared taken aback. "I... Any death should return her to her respawn point."
Talon: What about the brothel?
Crux: No way. Hex hates that place and wouldn't want to be stuck there for 24 hours. We both always respawn at home.
Lash: Check it out anyway, Crux. And the barracks too.
Crux: Sure thing.
The white knight's helmet slammed back on her head. "If I'm dismissed, I'd like to go see to a fallen party member."
I nodded gruffly. "Of course." Bravo Team exited as stiffness welled through my chest. It had been my order to leave Hex behind. What if she was somehow stuck? "Is it possible the keeper afflictions mutated? Genetic algorithms, adaptive skills. Can petrification prevent true death?"
Izzy rested a purple hand on my shoulder. "You had no way of knowing..."
Kyle hopped to his feet. "Let's go get her back."
I shook my head. "We don't know for a fact she's still back there. Plus, we might not be able to complete the return trip without Grimwart. And your treant enchantment will only last another half hour."
His wooden face deflated. He really liked that thing.
Saint Peter brushed his robe and nonchalantly cleared his throat. "So now you've seen Oakengard."
"Yeah, and I'm not so sure Colonel Grimwart was overreacting. The keepers turned him to stone."
Peter's eyes twitched.
"The crusader faction can't be trusted," muttered Izzy. "Big surprise."
"Does this mean war?" asked Kyle.
We turned to him, considering the possibility for the first time. Bishop Tannen had led crusaders and priests against this city before. What if the rest of the Trinity had become similarly corrupted?
I hissed. "Our master thief stealing silver from a priest wasn't the best of goodwill gestures. Instead of leaving as ambassadors, we fled as criminals." My head snapped to Saint Peter. "Loras was there."
The poor saint found a way to look even more surprised.
"Grimwart said Saint Loras was the one who oversaw Oakengard's buffs. Is that still happening?"
The old man shook his head. "It can't be. Loras..."
"Bishop Tannen accused him of being a traitor. He was the one who sicced the keepers on us."
Peter shook his head. "I thought you said your thief—"
"What's Loras doing in Oakengard?"
The saint frowned and remained tight-lipped.
I shook my head in exasperation. Secrets upon secrets. No wonder Grimwart hadn't trusted his quest with the saints. "Fine," I said. "If you're not gonna tell me what I need to know, I'm gonna go find someone who will."
"You don't mean—"
"Lucifer."
Peter hurried to block my exit. "You can't. He tried to destroy Stronghold."
My face hardened. "The only thing I'm sure of is that he knows a lot more about what's going on than I do. Last I saw he was willing to talk to me." My brow eased as I came to the realization. "That was right before Cleric Vagram tried to shut him up."
A conspiracy was afoot. Who better to ask about subterfuge than the devil himself?
Izzy and Kyle strolled toward the exit. I stepped around Saint Peter to follow.
"Fine," muttered the saint, defeated. "I'll tell you. But you must keep this close to your chest."
We waited as he prepared his speech.
"Kablammy Games is in trouble," he admitted. Although he chose his words guardedly, his resignation revealed them as truth. "Missed deadlines, mounting debts, unforeseen costs. With the advent of the leaks, we've had hostile companies seeking to acquire u
s."
I snorted. "Sounds like the Kablammy business model to me."
Izzy stepped forward. "What leaks?"
Peter's head shook absently. "We don't know how it happened. The staff was vetted several times. Word of Haven is rumored among the general public."
"Loras," we said.
Saint Peter chuckled in derision. "There are no good options. Either Kablammy runs out of money and is forced to shut down the servers and life as you know it, or we sell..."
My eyes narrowed. "Or?"
"Or we go public. Full launch."
Kyle's jaw dropped. "The rumors of launching the game are true?"
"It makes sense," I said. "That's why the saints have modified less and less of the game. The developers don't want big—intensive—changes."
"We want stability," clarified Peter. "We prided ourselves on our accomplishments. We strove to bring Haven above other MMOs by launching with a negligible bug count, but that's simply not possible. Especially not with our financial woes. All our changes have been to bring stability to Haven. Even the recent patch to skills was to get out of the game's way and resolve bugs naturally."
I knew where this was going. Developers on a death march, rushing to market an app unready for prime time. It was often easier to deprioritize a bug rather than fix it. Some things never changed. "You plan to launch a broken game, patch in fixes at day zero and beyond."
"That is vastly superior to the alternatives."
I swallowed uncomfortably. In this case, he wasn't wrong.
"So what's Saint Loras have to do with this?" asked Izzy.
Peter stroked his beard and sighed. "You don't understand. Loras is not a... real person. He's an online persona. A character."
I nodded along. It made sense that the saints wouldn't necessarily be modeled whole cloth from reality, as we had. They weren't permanent residents of the simulation.
Saint Peter continued. "The complication arises because... The usual employee who drives Saint Loras has been on sabbatical in the Greek islands."
We struggled to process the information. "Who's driving him then?" asked Kyle.
"It shouldn't be possible for anyone else to do so without the proper employee ID."
"How long since he's been on vacation?" I asked.
"Since after Bishop Tannen's coup. It was a trying time." Saint Peter rubbed his neck, remembering the near-death experience.
When the bishop had taken over, he'd made a show of hanging the saints. Peter and the others had been rescued. Loras hadn't fared so well.
"I don't get it," I confessed. "What did Tannen mean to accomplish with the executions? Didn't he know saints couldn't die?"
"It was a public statement," replied Peter. "Not only that, but the crusaders and catechists are NPCs. They don't necessarily conceive of the world beyond Haven as we do."
"Fair enough, but why did you guys stay captured? Couldn't you have just logged out?"
"It's crunch time," Peter reminded. "We don't work, we lose our jobs. And it wasn't as bad as you might have imagined. Unlike residents, we don't feel pain, which isn't to say the experience of being deprived of digital oxygen is pleasant."
"Couldn't you have teleported away?"
He sighed. "As he controlled the hub, Tannen's coup did wrest some of our abilities away, that being one. But you must understand, Talon, had we abandoned the crisis, we would've been unable to view current events. Haven is much too complicated a simulation to display through a monitor. Some of the finer aspects of game management can only occur within the game. That's why the Oculus exists at all. And pulling a disappearing act might've resulted in an encore of Shorehome."
In other words, sacking of the city. A permanent loss of saintly control. With the launch of the game imminent, it was imperative for the core city to hold.
"It is not Tannen's motivations we must decipher," reminded Saint Peter.
"No," agreed Izzy. "This is Saint Loras." Her face soured. "Only he or she isn't Saint Loras."
"He or she," I repeated under my breath. The others turned to me. I settled on what had to be done. "I have to talk to Lucifer anyway."
"You can't, Talon," urged Peter. "Lucifer's a warmonger bent on revenge. Please heed my advice. I'm a custodian of the residents."
"And I'm a resident," I returned through gritted teeth. "I live here. I don't get to log off at the end of a long day. This is my world, and I need to do anything within my power to save it."
Izzy smirked. "I hate to say it, Pete, but I think the man's right." She winked at him to soften the blow.
"Besides," added Kyle, "if there's gonna be another war, don't we need Shorehome on our side?"
She nodded. "You're smarter as a tree. With three active cities, Shorehome's a third wheel. Whoever gets them as an ally wins the war."
"What war?" countered Peter. "You're overreacting."
"Better safe than sorry," I said. "Bishop Tannen was allowed to grow his power through player inactivity. That's not gonna fly this time. We're not waiting until an army's bearing down on us. I'm not gonna be reactive anymore. I'm taking my fate into my own hands and doing something before there's a problem. That means finding any help we can get."
Izzy and Kyle nodded in agreement. I loved having these two backing me up.
"Sounds like a plan then. We approach Papa Brugo about the impending disaster, and we corner Lucifer to squeeze out his secrets. Since the Shorehome hub is destroyed and fast travel isn't possible, this can be the inaugural mission for the Black Hat navy. We sail out with Admiral Oates first thing in the morning."
Everyone besides Saint Peter was satisfied with the plan, but he didn't try to stop us. The old man was wise enough to know when he was outvoted.
1210 Kingdom Hearts
Walking the streets of Stronghold sans bodyguard was nice. Sure, I had Izzy and treant-Kyle, but they were friends. We goofed off more than anything else. Deep down I knew Izzy wanted nothing more than to nestle in her bed with a corny book. And Kyle? To be honest I could never predict what the slacker would do. That was part of what made him so much fun.
I wasn't too worried about an assassination attempt anyway. Taking down one of the highest-level players in Haven was a tough ask. Poe's fate wouldn't engender more to the cause. Besides, their secret was out. Especially with my new intuition skill, I wouldn't be caught drinking on a barstool again.
As we turned off the public thoroughfare and entered Oldtown, we were greeted by friends outside the guildhall. The commotion grew more excited as we neared.
"Talon! You're back!" Trafford pushed through the energized crowd of Black Hats. "We've got more problems with Nooner and Chadwick. Those gangsters are trying to buy up all the lumber."
"What? There's no way they can afford that."
"They're doing a pretty good job," he asserted with crossed arms. "I gave them a piece of my mind, but I didn't want to start a gang war without you."
"So why not start a trade war? I assume their actions are already driving up the price of lumber in the city. Offer the yard double what they're worth."
"Double?!?"
I flashed a cool smile. "We can't afford to stop building, and we have the silver to absorb the short-term losses. If we artificially inflate the cost of wood, it's only a matter of time before the gangsters run dry."
"Hmm, I like where your head's at. I can use the bargaining power to secure extended contracts at a discount. Still expensive but not doubly so, and it'll guarantee we get enough wood in the near term. Also, I was thinking we should recruit lumber workers long-term. It'll be cheaper to cut down our own trees." The buildmaster's eyes flittered to the treant. "No offense, mister..." Trafford paused. "I'll be damned. Is that you, Kyle?"
The tree wrapped twig fingers around Trafford's wrist. "You got me, bro. Magic potion." Kyle burped.
"Must be some brew."
Did I forget to mention Kyle's potions were alcoholic?
"Those are good thoughts, Trafford," I said. As an
ex-soldier shop owner, he was really taking to the role of buildmaster. Trafford had a natural sense for logistics and planning that Errol would never take to. "On that note, I have kind of a good-news-bad-news situation. I need to take Errol and some pirates to Shorehome to negotiate with the Brothers in Black. You're gonna lose some building resources for a few days. On the other hand, I'll leave Bravo Team at headquarters. You get a single whiff of hostility from Nooner or Chadwick, let them do the talking."
"Aye," he laughed. "I find the best agreements involve the fewest words."
The congregated Black Hats seemed pleased with the tactics discussed. We all walked away happy.
"You know," I said, after we were a ways down the road, "being a leader isn't that hard. You just gotta listen. Hey, Kyle, can I see your mirror shield for a second."
"Uh, sure."
The treant handed it over as my intuition skill buzzed. Not a second later, a silver arrow whizzed toward me. It was meant to miss but I leapt into its path and threw the shield up.
Deflect!
The arrow whisked back the way it had come—right into a roadside bush.
[Dune] dealt 26 damage to [Dune]
"Ow! I took an arrow in the knee."
"You're better than that, Dune."
The green ranger hopped from the bush. Caduceus and Stigg squatted in distant rubble.
I handed the shield back to Kyle. "Sorry," I called out. "Intuition. Exploration. It's gonna be hard to sneak attack me."
Dune yanked the arrow out in pain and limped over. His party members, finally realizing he was wounded, burst out laughing. To their credit, they also came over to check on him. Caduceus handed Dune a salve.
"I probably deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his wound.
Caduceus was a lean woman with a good head on her shoulders, a physicker from the artisan base class, which meant her healing was a trade more than magic. The knee wound healed all the same.
