It was not terribly complicated. He created an alias and joined, more accurately bought his way into one of the clubs or in this case team that one must join to participate in the adventure. That team was his ticket to claiming the trophies, so great a treasure that he could not take it all at once, nor would he want to attract Digital Adventure’s attention by doing so. He would get the lion’s portion of the first group of trophies and a significant percentage of the rest as a finder’s fee. The team he belonged to would lay claim to the booty and cash them in; he wouldn’t have to do so as an individual. To further distance himself, he even recruited another team member to go along with him, for which he would get half. Cristopher hated having to divide the share up, but by doing so, it provided him cover. It was such a huge trophy that even the third or so that he would walk away with was substantial.
The money would give him the lifestyle he wanted in-world. Even after converting it from Metaverse dollars to actual ones it was a lot of payola. Most importantly to him, he could continue to live in a world that had become his reality.
He didn’t need the two others, but he chose to involve them to add chaos into the equation further. He would tell one that the other robbed him of it, or not say anything at all, just let them assume the other was trying to gain an advantage. As it was, the two belonged to rival groups, which up to recently conducted open gang warfare on each other. They were merely props in his deception of Digital Adventures who valued the storyline above all else, even the trophies. The prizes offered a way that one could gain financially by entering the sim, after paying a significant amount to join. For most, the adventure and the absolute realism of it were the real lure.
That’s what made it so addictive and why Christopher lied and stole from his parents and Digital Adventures, risking his father’s livelihood. The Adventure had become his reality. He would do anything to continue it.
The operation went according to plan initially. But getting into the area of the Dead Zone with all the traps and roadblocks took much longer than he realized, not fully appreciating how experience and training affected not only his abilities but the algorithm; even the most minor detail could cascade into a much larger problem.
When he and his partner in the adventure, David, ran into that sinkhole, it screwed everything up. They could not get out, and by then the Outfits or their leaders knew they were a sitting duck with all that gold. All they had to do was wait for sundown, and the DEVO’s would take care of the rest.
Haus thought about rescuing the kid; it was his territory that the rig was stuck in. It became evident to him that the vault was in Crewmen territory as well. But when Graybeard and his boys started nosing around close by in no man’s land, he suspected that there was more to the story. He might still rescue the kid, but he wanted the location of the vault first.
The only chance for the two was a deep penetration rescue late in the afternoon, and the only guys with the know-how, rig and, not the least, the guts to do that were Andy Crawley and Logan McMillan. The rest of the kid’s team, the Voracious Soldiers, were ready to write him off as DEVO chow.
Andy Crawley’s appearance on the scene was the final straw for Haus. This was Crewmen turf, and he was about to teach the Voracious Soldiers a painful lesson by taking out their best rig and best operators then take the biggest trophy of all. He had been holding onto some powerful new arms for just such a scenario. When the other Outfits saw the firepower he possessed, they would be even more cowed. Infiltration teams and Outfits alike would stay out of Crewmen territory or served up to the DEVO’s. The gold in that vault would also make him very wealthy and even more capable.
That entire world, real as it felt to all entering it was a simulation on a scale that would be incomprehensible to anyone yet to go full emersion into such an environment. The less informed might have called it a game, but it was physically and even more so psychologically far removed from fantasy. Digital Adventures wasn’t just puffing up its product by using the “As real as it gets” slogan.
Going into the world, and it was a full world where the numerous Dead Zones existed, was an elaborate, lengthy process. One did just not “log in” and start killing zombies or rivals. For starters, just the price of entry was steep. It was costly to join a club or team, buy the equipment, uniforms and not the least the hours and hours of preparation in a training sim.
As would be the situation during a real apocalyptic event, nothing was provided when you entered the digital undertaking. The teams provided, or rather issued the necessary equipment and weapons to their members. But they were not free, the adventurer needed to buy them in-world. The team then got one-half of the trophies value, the rest was split up based on rank, and experience or as set out by the mission leader. Some missions were far riskier than others and only increased compensation would render volunteers. Likewise, some jobs were more dangerous. Infiltrating deep into a building among sleeping DEVO’s as opposed to staying outside safe in the gunner’s turret watching out for Outfitters.
To even be eligible to utilize any of Digital Adventures simulations you had to be able to do what was known as “Full Emersion,” which required a personalized SecondSkin and access to an H-Pod.
SecondSkin was the trademark name of a type of suit worn next to your skin, in fact, it became part of your skin as it melded with it at the cellular level. The SecondSkin then mated with an exoskeleton, which itself was inside a pressurized bladder inside of a large egg-shaped pod, where the “Human Entity” resided, known as an H-Pod.
Inside of the H-Pod, everything you did reflected into the simulation, and everything in the simulation reflected onto you seamlessly and indistinguishable from reality. In essence, your physical body became digitized and placed into the simulation. These systems were not cheap, particularly the SecondSkin that technically was alive with living cells and nerve endings woven into the carbon Nano-tubes that held the suit not just tightly stretched across the entirety of your body but also into it, becoming part of you, physically. You could feel everything in the simulation as you would feel it in real life, within safety limitations.
These suits were not cheap. Even the intermediate suits that provided an incredible level of realism were nothing compared to what SecondSkin could do were several hundreds of dollars. A custom SecondSkin ran five grand or more.
Just the subscription to Digital Adventures was a few thousand dollars to join plus hundreds a month depending on what you did, options selected, etc. That, however, was just the beginning depending on the adventure that you desired. Not all adventures were life and death fights for treasure. You might “live” in Victorian England or be a part of the French Revolution or a citizen of ancient Rome.
Joining one of the teams that ventured into the Dead Zone in the simulation that Christopher was obsessed with was like enlisting in the military. A hierarchy with strict rules and regulations existed. Training was critical. You only have one life in a specific sim, lose it and you were gone if you were lucky; unlucky and your existence became that of a DEVO, almost all of whom were themselves artificial entities until a certain amount of time passed or you were destroyed. You could, however, buy your way out and back in under a new identity in a different city. It all added to the experience—you didn’t just get a redo. You didn’t just “play” a few hours then move onto the next sim. You lived it, breathed it and all too often “died” in it.
The preparation to enter the Dead Zone wasn’t just some arcade shooting alley. It was actual conditioning, done in-world. The system monitored the energy you exerted, the time you put in and the skills that you learned and practiced. It then built your “body” and honed your skills accordingly.
Someone who lifted a lot of weights would get huge, and even taller and larger. Someone who practiced acrobatics would become very adept at leaping, flying through the air and would have excellent dexterity. The same with martial arts and of course weapons, the more you trained, the better you got.
Bu
t it took a lot of time and not a small amount of commitment and real sweat. Some of the teams, like the Voracious Soldiers, were notorious in their physical training; often using it to weed out the probationary players or Probies. But it was more than just weeding out the less than committed.
Operations in the Dead Zone required a combination of fitness, skill, and discipline that weren’t just assigned by the sim. You either had those things, or you didn’t. And if you didn’t you would jeopardize your team. Considering the investment of money, time and sweat made by other individuals in the team they were not likely to accept, let alone take on a member who could endanger them.
For the committed adventurers, it could be their life or at least a good part of it. The stakes were very high indeed, but the potential rewards were even greater. The trophies had real value, and not just in the Metaverse converted to M-dollars, or the currency that fueled everything in-world. No, those trophies had real, tangible value because the M-dollars could be converted to actual money in the real world and not just in token amounts. One could eke out a decent income or at least some side cash “working in the zone.” For a few, it was extremely lucrative as it was for Andy, Logan and Mia.
Andy wrote a popular blog that covered the Dead Zone, offered tips, and techniques or at least a glimpse of them. You had to buy his courses and videos to get all the information. He also had a decent side gig going designing equipment, none of which was cheap, but then again how much was your life worth? Certainly at least as much as the cost of admission, more than what a semester of tuition and room and board cost Christopher.
It was among the most sought after and expensive sims in the Metaverse. Digital Adventures developed not just the simulation but the whole concept of “Full Emersion Adventure.” It was a trailblazer in creating not only a fantasy world that one lived in, but doing so in an environment that was potentially profitable for the customer. Of course, it was the whole chicken and egg argument. The vast amounts of money that Digital Adventures collected on everything from subscriptions to merchandising to equipment to the cost of every single round of ammunition paid for by the adventurers went to fund the trophies, which in turn supported the operations of the teams who in turn rewarded its members.
Just like in the real world, if a place such as the Dead Zone existed, one could not just instantly have the equipment, ammo, and other resources. Those had to be scrounged for, fought over or bought, albeit at a much lower cost and in Metaverse currency or M-Dollars, further expanding one’s purchasing power.
The result was an environment that one could live, work and make money in. Even gain a fair amount of wealth. The Dead Zone attracted millions of players from across the globe into dozens of large cities or “DZ’s.” Through the magic of technology and pure computing power, it was all compartmentalized so that when you were in the zone, there were perhaps a few hundred at the most also engaged in the massive city during the same timeline. Since not everyone went in at once, only a few dozen might be inside at any one point. The time frame and story line were unique to each set of groups, but the rewards were very real.
Locations of trophies, as well as the layout of the city itself, was also different and unique for each group. What worked in one wouldn’t work in another. Or trophies in one place could not be found in another. It kept the game fresh, new and challenging with no way to cheat or get an advantage unless one had inside information as Christopher dishonestly obtained.
Rogue players, however, could “hack” their way in and conduct their operations, ingeniously living off what they could scavenge to survive, and in many cases, thrive. These rogues became the “Outfits.”
While the infiltration team members had to pay to join, and then still had to complete a training regimen, rogues went into the DZ for free. Unlike the teams, they had to remain in the city, living off the land as it were. Team members had a “real” city to go back to and comfortable places to live and recreate when they were on down time and not hunting for trophies. It was a complete life and economy as many stayed in-world to do actual jobs. On the weekends or other times, they got to venture into the dead city in search of fame and fortune. For most, the adrenaline rush alone was enough. The rogue adventurers added a component to the game that made the whole experience more complicated just as it would be in reality, given the nature of human beings.
The presence of the Outfits kept the teams from just going in and blasting the DEVO’s, getting their treasure and getting out. The Outfits added an element that made doing that more dangerous as they became a force to be reckoned with.
To join an Outfit, you still had to hack your way in, and nothing was provided. Weapons, ammo, and equipment were either smuggled in or found in the Dead Zone. Or you took it from captured, dead or dying infiltration team members.
Like the teams, the Outfits had to train and learn skills, but the cost of admission was free, outside of the hardware of an H-Pod and SecondSkin. The waiting lists to join the Outfits, particularly the more successful ones exceeded those participating in a team. Of course, the free admission was a major driving point but the living conditions, weapons and equipment were far inferior. Life expectancy in an Outfit was far less than the infiltration teams as well.
To the developer’s joy, this setup caused friction between the adventurers who paid to go into the full emersion adventure and those that snuck in, scavenged and if they survived joined an Outfit.
Whole side businesses, quite lucrative, popped up supplying the teams out in the open or the Outfits on the black market. Many freelancers or mercenaries hired their services or in the case of Mia their equipment out to the highest bidder. Although if you fought alongside the Outfitters, the teams would never hire you back. The Outfits would hire anyone, they had no loyalty and being tribal in nature cared only about their turf and claiming what they believed to be theirs.
Being in an Outfit, however, was far from a free ride. The teams returned from missions to their nice virtual cities, homes, and environments. They could work an actual job, go to school or engage in regular social activities. Outfits lived in the sewers and underground bunkers. They had to scavenge for less than tasty food as well as clothing, equipment and weapons and the ammo to operate them.
Not surprisingly that outcast lifestyle appealed to many in the Metaverse just as it did in the real world. Like real world outlaw motorcycle clubs or other gangs, many Outfitters had no use for rules, authority or laws.
Neither in the Metaverse nor in the real world.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The drone sped far over the university commons. High above the lone figure strolling from the all-female residence hall, where he had just escorted a couple of women from the library. He listened to a podcast of one of his classes trying to wrap his mind around a physics concept. If he wasn’t so engrossed in that, he might have noticed the drone, but then again maybe not since it was dark. Even if he did notice, he wouldn’t have paid it much attention. Drones were common, frequently used to deliver items or to get video footage or just as a plaything.
The podcast faded for an instant as his earpiece buzzed, letting him know he had a new text message. The text began scrolling as it floated across the lower third of his vision out a way in front of him through his interactive contact lenses. It was from a number with all zeros and a cryptic message: “NO ONE FUCKS W/GB.”
Christopher stopped in his tracks. He recognized the GB reference. He was sick of this Graybeard character whom he had partnered with briefly, although he had never met him in person. In fact, didn’t even know where he lived, which could have been on the other side of the world for all he knew or cared.
While Graybeard lived far away, tonight he was closer. Much closer as he sat in the front seat of a car blocks from where Christopher stood, fuming.
His partnership with Graybeard had fallen apart along with his grand scheme when he fell from the out of control VTAL and promptly got chomped by the DEVO’s. That experience was terri
fyingly real with the things grabbing and clawing him before they sank their teeth into him, or rather his virtual body. The bites were anything but virtual, transferred through his SecondSkin like a million sharp pinches to his nerve endings. Fortunately, those “bites” didn’t cause any real damage, but the sensation was real, all too real. Christopher shuddered as he recalled the drool of the creatures as they hovered over him, or maybe it was blood. His blood or rather his virtual blood dripping from their teeth and lips. He thought the episode and pinches to his body would never end. Nightmares where he dreamed that the creatures still had him, pinned to the roof as they sank their teeth into him over and over before he would wake up in a cold sweat, were all too frequent.
A Digital Adventures experience was so real, only those never experiencing one would doubt it. Whether you were a courtier in King Louis XIV court at Versailles or battling an invasion of aliens or riding with Robin Hood and his Merry Men, what you experienced mentally and physically was no different than reality, only no one was injured or killed, at least physically. Psychologically it was different. PTSD was not an uncommon phenomenon.
The DEVO’s were still feasting on Keith when the self-destruction of the JLTV finally did him in. He was locked out, dead in that simulation. Thanks to the explosion he at least did not have to endure virtual life in that sim as an undead monster.
It was over. Not just the adventure but the scheme to make money off it. Like so many others, he too fell short. Not an uncommon occurrence but most of those that did had money either from the real world or the Metaverse that would let them start up with another team in another Dead Zone.
Once you died in that city, that was it; there was no going back. The plans to the secret fault below the high-rise tower only applied to that zone, and the groups assigned to that storyline; one that he was frozen out of. Creating another alias that would fool Digital Adventures would take new hardware they would not recognize and cash that he didn’t have.
METAVERSE GAMES: OMNIBUS Page 18
