Dead Man Gaming

by A. J. Markam

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh. Then about eight hours,” I said.

  The group burst into laughter again.

  “We have a virgin, ladies and gentlemen!” the goblin hooted. “Did we deflower you back in that field, mate?”

  “Gross, Russell,” the elf snapped at him.

  “Figure of speech, luv, figure of speech.”

  The orc winced and put up a hand as though to ward off something terrible. “Dude – horrible image.”

  “Yes, I think I’ll need bleach to wash it out of my brain,” the troll agreed.

  “Wait…” I said, suddenly realizing something. “Does that mean I could play with you guys?!”

  The elf looked taken aback. She glanced around at the others, then tried to put on a sympathetic expression. “I… I’m not sure that would be the best fit…”

  I learned a lot of things in prison. One of them was this: in a hostile environment, your alliances determine whether you survive or not. I never joined any gangs while I was in prison, but I made alliances with the right people. That was how I survived.

  This game was about the most hostile environment I could possibly imagine – outside of prison, that is. And I severely needed an alliance to survive it.

  “Please?” I pleaded. I wasn’t proud.

  The elf winced. “No offense, Korvos – ”

  “Jimmy,” I said as I held out my hand. “Jimmy Stanislavski.”

  The elf looked at my hand like she knew exactly what was going on – which was, I was trying to present myself as a real person with a real name. Someone it would be harder to reject.

  She knew, all right – but, being a good person, she shook my hand anyway. “Look, Jimmy – it’s nice to meet you, but – ”

  I could tell she wasn’t going to fold easily, so I turned to Slothfart. “And I am from California, so I know all about legal weed.”

  “See?!” the orc cried out. “He’s cool! It’s fine!”

  “Guys – ” Jen tried again.

  “Thanks for healing me, by the way,” I said to Richard the troll.

  He bowed his head the tiniest bit at the neck. “You’re very welcome.” Then he spoke to the air. “Ah, so nice to be appreciated. For once.”

  “Richard,” the elf said, as though about to say, We appreciate you –

  “And thank you for saving my ass back there,” I said to Russell the goblin. “I would’ve been toast without you.”

  “Pleasure to do it, mate!” the goblin said cheerily.

  “GUYS,” Jen shouted. “We can’t just let everybody we come across into the group willy-nilly – ”

  “He’s not askin’ to get married, luv!” the goblin said. “He’s not even askin’ to give you a good snoggin’!”

  “I don’t know what you mean by that,” the elf said to the goblin, “though I think I know what you mean, and if you say it again, I’m going to smack you upside the head with an ice dart.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” the goblin said, then hooted as he took off running through the wheat field.

  “Jimmy would make five,” the troll said. “We would finally have enough for a proper dungeon crawl.”

  “I seriously doubt he’d be an asset in a dungeon,” Jen snapped.

  “Then think of it as aiding the less fortunate,” the troll suggested, then turned to me and gave me subtle nod as though to say, I’m on your side.

  The elf turned on Richard. “You too?”

  “He could be the mascot!” the orc said as he clasped one gigantic arm around my shoulders. “The, y’know – dead mascot!”

  “We all agreed we wanted another ranged weapons fighter,” she said, her voice growing sterner. “We don’t need another melee fighter.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about with ranged weapons and melee, so I said the only thing that I did know: “I’m going to be an awesome thief! I’m going to pick locks!”

  “See?! He’s going to pick locks!” the orc repeated, like I’d just said something brilliant.

  “Lock picking,” the troll said to the elf, like, Can’t beat that.

  “Maybe he can pick that lock off your chastity belt, luv!” the goblin yelled out from the wheat field, then hooted and took off again as the elf made a menacing movement with her hands.

  Jen turned back to me and said patiently, “That’s great, I’m happy for you, but you being a… lock picker doesn’t help us in dungeons against bosses.”

  …bosses?

  I wanted to ask, Is this your job, too? but decided against it.

  “I don’t know,” the orc said. “I’ve seen some treasure chests in dungeons that were locked.”

  “In other games,” the elf snapped. “We’ve only done one dungeon here, and they didn’t have any locked treasure chests.”

  “That’s not to say they won’t,” the troll said. “And typically, the harder it is to get the spoils, the better quality they are.”

  “And havin’ ‘im around makes it so Seth ain’t the ugliest one anymore!” the goblin cackled as he raced up next to me, then gave me an exaggerated wink, like No offense, mate.

  I smiled back at him.

  The elf sighed. “Seriously? You’re going to make me the bad guy on this one?”

  “Don’t be the bad guy, then!” the orc said. “Let him in the group!”

  “But we all agreed we wanted a hunter or another mage!”

  All three guys just shrugged.

  “He’s only a Level 5!” she snapped.

  “I am?!” I asked, looking up at my hit points bar. Sure enough, she was right. “Sweet – I only thought I was a Level 4!”

  “Dude,” the orc whispered in a loud stage whisper that everyone could hear. “You’re not really helping us make your case here.”

  “You probably picked up a lot of experience points in that last battle,” Richard the troll explained.

  “I got experience? But I didn’t kill anybody,” I said, confused.

  “If you inflict any degree of damage on someone during a group fight, no matter how small, you get experience points and loot when they die.”

  “You mean, I can get more experience points with you guys?!” I shrieked happily.

  These four had had taken out an entire group of bandits like they were nothing. If I could get a piece of that, I would level up ten times faster!

  “Dude,” the orc whispered in an exaggerated whisper again. “Little too eager. You gotta sell it better.”

  “But he’s like an excitable puppy dog,” the troll said, then turned to the elf. “You have to admit, it’s mildly adorable.”

  “And at least we know he ain’t usin’ us for our higher levels, cuz he ain’t that smart!” the goblin said cheerfully.

  “Ugh,” the elf groaned, then pointed at me. “You have to take this seriously, okay? I’ve got enough trouble with these three boneheads – ”

  “ ‘Ey!” the goblin yelled.

  “Who’re you callin’ a bonehead?!” the orc protested.

  “That’s an unfair characterization,” the troll said. “Of me. Not of the others.”

  I nodded at Jen. “I promise you, I’m going to be super-serious. I’m going to be playing the game almost 24 hours a day, so I’ll – ”

  “You have a full immersion unit?” the elf interrupted.

  “Yeah,” I said happily – and was met with silence.

  I looked around at the faces of the rest of the group. They were stunned.

  My stomach sank.

  It was going so well, damn it!

  “…um… is that bad?” I asked,

  I knew Arkova – Agent Alvarez – didn’t have one, but I didn’t realize they were that uncommon.

  “What are you, a trust fund kid or somethin’?” the orc asked. It was the first truly sour note of disapproval I’d heard in anyone’s voice so far.

  “A bleedin’ trustafarian?” the goblin said, also annoyed.

  Everybody else backed off slightly.

 
Shit.

  Things were falling to pieces all around me. It was going to collapse if I didn’t salvage it, and fast. I had to win over the group – and I couldn’t exactly tell them that I had been framed by the FBI and forced into a mission to infiltrate the Russian mob.

  “My dad died when I was younger,” I said – which was true. “He used to always say we were going to play Dungeons and Dragons… but he died before I was old enough.”

  Which was total bullshit. The words ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ never passed his lips.

  “Anyway, I came into some money… so I got this game, because it reminds me of my dad. It’s like… I can finally play the games with him I always wanted to, but never got the chance to.”

  I felt horrible. These were good people; you could tell that just by talking to them, and here I was lying to their faces.

  But I needed this. If I was going to actually do the job the FBI wanted me to and get free of their clutches, I needed help – and these guys were my best bet.

  And it’s not like it was completely a lie. Not the core of it. I really did miss my dad… and I would’ve done anything to get him back, even if for only one hour.

  That part was true – and that was the feeling I put into my voice as I told the story.

  It was also the thing that would sink or save my chances with them.

  It must have worked, because the female elf’s lips quivered a little, and she wiped one eye with the back of her hand.

  Everybody was quiet. Nobody wanted to speak…

  Until the goblin started first.

  “Can we keep ‘im, Mum?” Russell asked, like a little kid asking his mother for a puppy.

  “Yes, Mum – can we keep him?” the troll asked.

  “Can we, mom?” the orc asked, joining in the fun – and hugging me close against him again.

  “You guys – ” the elf sighed.

  “Can we, Mum?”

  “Please, Mum?”

  “Come on, Mom – ”

  “ALRIGHT, so long as you never EVER call me ‘Mom’ or ‘Mum’ or anything like that again!” she yelled, but she broke into laughter at the end.

  “Yaaaay!” the goblin cheered, and cartwheeled through the wheat.

  “Welcome to the group, dude,” the orc said.

  21

  After a few more words of congratulations and welcome from the others, the elf finally said, “Alright, we should probably get our loot.”

  “Get our LOOT on!” the orc guffawed.

  “Sounds good to me!” the goblin yelled, and raced like a silver-plated Tasmanian devil over to the first body.

  Jennifer made a motion in the air. At first I thought she was doing a spell, and then I realized she was hitting buttons on computer windows only she could see. “Okay, Jimmy, I’m going to send you an invitation to join our group. That way you’ll be in on all our quests and you can send and read internal messages.”

  “Internal messages?”

  “Like chat. It’s basically how we keep in touch when we’re not all inside the game at the same time.”

  A window popped up with the message, Would you like to join 420 Tech Alliance?

  “420 Tech Alliance?” I asked, one eyebrow raised, as I hit ‘Yes.’

  She sighed. “We all worked at the same startup – and Seth insisted we add in the weed reference.”

  “Cuz it’s bitchin’,” the orc said enthusiastically.

  “I got the Signet of something or other that gives 15 intelligence,” the goblin yelled out from where he crouched over one of the bodies.

  “Richard, you want that?” Jen asked.

  “What’s your intelligence right now?” the troll answered.

  “220.”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Mine’s only 212.”

  “It’s yours,” she said, and the goblin flipped the ring through the air. The troll tried to catch it, but fumbled and dropped it.

  “Butter fingers,” the goblin taunted.

  “My main stat isn’t dexterity, it’s intelligence,” the troll said.

  “It sure ain’t hand-eye coordination,” the goblin said as he moved on to the next body.

  “So you guys divide up loot?” I asked as I bent down and found three silver and an apple that restored 100 hit points if you ate it.

  “Yeah. If somebody can use it, they get it automatically. Take plate armor, for instance. Only Russell uses that. Anything like the ring, we either decide amongst ourselves or play ‘Rock Paper Scissors’ for it.”

  “Why does only Russell use plate armor?” I asked. “Shouldn’t the big guy, too?”

  “Yes, why do you wear mail, Seth?” Jen asked with faux sweetness.

  “Shut up!” the orc yelled defensively. “…I have delicate skin…”

  The other three laughed at him as he continued complaining.

  “Screw you guys! Plate armor chafes! And if you guys are gonna be dicks about it, I’m gonna log out and take a little ‘me’ time.” He put his clasped thumb and forefinger to his mouth and inhaled like he was smoking an invisible joint.

  “Really?” Jen asked, annoyed.

  “We’ve been gaming for, like, two hours!”

  “Oh my God, two hours,” she said sarcastically. “That’s virtually forever.”

  “I just need a little top off, that’s all.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Go on – get out of here,” she said, waving him off with her hand.

  “Be right back!” he said, then slowly faded away.

  I held out the three silver coins and apple I’d found. “If we divvy up the armor and rings and stuff, do we divide all the money, too?”

  “Yeah,” the elf said, “but just hold onto it for now. We’ll put it all in a pile at the end.”

  “So we all share the experience points, too?”

  “As long as you’re in the group. The great thing is, we all get the same amount of XP. So if Russell or Seth or I kill a mob, you and Richard will get the same experience points as we do.”

  For a second, my heart stopped.

  She knows about the MOB?

  “The mob?” I asked innocently, though my stomach was twisting.

  “A mob,” she said. “Short for ‘mobile.’ Slang for any computer generated monsters.”

  “Oh yeah.” I remembered Arkova saying the same thing.

  PHEW.

  “So, uh, you all met at work?”

  “Yeah – Richard’s a programmer, Russell was a beta tester, Seth was in the art department, and I was project management. We all found out we like to online game, so we started doing it together when we had time. Then the company tanked and we all got laid off – so while we’re sending our résumés, we tend to spend a lot of time gaming.”

  “That sounds pretty cool.”

  “Yeah, well, DarkWorld sure beats the hell out of the real world, I can tell you that. What about you? You said you came into some money – how?”

  “A… work-related accident,” I said.

  I guess you could say that about getting framed for safecracking. After all, I’d been working, and I got caught by accident…

  “What happened?”

  “Uh… I can’t really talk about it.”

  “Why? Did you steal something?” she asked, laughing.

  SHIT –

  It took me a second to get my paranoia under control and realize she didn’t know anything about the bust. I forced myself to laugh along with her.

  No, it was because I was GOING to steal something, I almost said, but didn’t want to go overboard.

  “There was a confidentiality agreement,” I said.

  It was close enough to the truth. I’m sure the FBI would have made me sign something if they didn’t think that the threat of prison was enough to dissuade me from telling people.

  “Really. Court case?” she asked.

  “Uh… settlement.”

  I never made it to court.

  “Did it happen to you?”

  I was about
to answer ‘yes’ when she added in a quiet voice, “Or did it have something to do with your dad passing?”

  I could hear the concern and compassion in her voice.

  Crap.

  “…yes.”

  I hated lying like this. Especially about something as painful and real as my losing my dad.

  But I was in a real bind here. I couldn’t tell them who I really was or what I was really doing. I just hoped that my very real pain – which I absolutely felt whenever I talked about my father – was enough to convince her not to ask any more questions.

  It did the trick. She just nodded silently, and abandoned the topic in favor of looting the next body. “I got some leather gloves here – you obviously use leather armor, you want them?”

  “Nobody else needs them?”

  “No, Richard and I both have cloth armor, and the guys use plate and chain. So it’s yours if you want it.”

  “I appreciate it, but I already have leather gloves,” I said, holding up my hands.

  “Yeah, but what are the stats?”

  That was a good question. I selected my gloves and read the attributes out loud: “+2 armor, +2 agility.”

  “Then you’ll want these,” she said, and threw the gloves through the air. “+5 armor, +10 agility and stamina.”

  “Wow – thanks!”

  Suddenly Slothfart faded back in. When he was completely visible, he looked around at the game with bug eyes. “Oh my God – the colors are so much more vivid! Guys, you really should try it.”

  “We are not social degenerates, thank you,” the troll said drily.

  “Dude, I’m telling you, it’s legal in, like, half the country now!”

  “I get my mind altering kicks from the videogame, thank you very much.”

  As the goblin ran by, he stopped right in front of the orc and wrinkled up his face. “Gor, I can almost smell the stench through the interface!”

  Slothfart bent down, scooped up the goblin, and held him up in the air like a doll.

  “Dude, the art on you, man – the detail is incredible!” the orc marveled.

  “Put me down, you soddin’ bugger!” the goblin yelled, and started wriggling and kicking his legs.

  The orc started giggling uncontrollably. “Hey – does he look like a baby in a knight suit to you guys, too?”

  “Stop making fun of Russell for his size,” Jennifer said with a smirk in her voice.