by Sam Ferguson
“Freya has said some unexpected things too,” Brian pitched in.
“Really? Freya again?” Rhonda’s annoyed tone caught Brian off guard.
“Guys, what if we are just one step off with these observations?” Mike asked. “What if it isn’t really super-interactive programming? Meredith seems super talented, and her boss seems to think she is the most qualified person he has to give her the task of white-glove inspecting his multi-million-dollar investment, but I can’t imagine her even having the people skills to program that kind of true-to-life AI. But do you know where a super-advanced AI system could be coming from?” His eyes drifted across the room to the computers.
“Holy crap, are you saying the NPCs are, are this oracle guy’s little minions?” Rhonda exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock and fear.
“Hold on, I think you might be on to something, Mike, but I don’t think we should completely underestimate Meredith’s programming, or the rest of her team. There is still a base function programmed into each of those NPCs. Maybe being directly connected to the processor inside that thing is just giving the NPC codes more juice… waking them up? They would still respond to whatever their base function is but be able to do it with a full personality,” Chris said.
“So, assassins would still be assassins,” Brian ventured.
“And magicians would still be magicians,” Mike added.
“And faction members would still be loyal to their own factions, or houses? That would mean that our NPCs would be loyal to us, and Rored’s would be loyal to him,” Rhonda concluded.
“Yeah, I think so.” Chris nodded.
“And admiration expressed would have actual feeling behind it,” Augustin said to himself more than to the group. His eyes showed that he was nowhere in the room with them.
“So the point is,” Chris continued, “this master assassin may be the only character that is actually the alien AI itself, though it might have some acolytes dedicated to obeying it. It’s probably looking for the portals, so it might follow us for clues. But, if we can avoid direct contact with its character and be careful about who might be loyal to the assassins, then maybe we can stay alive and kill it.”
“What we need is Meredith,” Rhonda said. Everyone stopped to regard her. “I mean, she would know how to beat an alien AI in her own game, right? She’d know how to stop it.”
“Yeah well, if you know of any other super geniuses in the game, I’d be happy to go talk to them,” Chris said. They all fell silent again, taking another bite or two of the dry food at their feet.
Brian sighed and leaned forward, plinking the rest of the food from his hand into the metal meal box that held his rations. “The AI wants order. We can try to kill it, see if that releases the professor and Meredith, but if not, then we need a back-up plan.”
“Like what?” Mike said.
“Maybe there is a way we can restore order on this world,” Brian said. “Think about it, we’re in a highly chaotic environment. All these different factions and races vying for control of the continent. They all need the same thing.”
Mike snapped his fingers. “You mean we need to beat the game!”
Brian nodded. “The only way to create order in the game world is to defeat the main quest line. That’s our backup plan.”
“That...” Chris started, but trailed off.
“That might actually work,” Rhonda said. She turned and pointed to the professor and Meredith, “but we’ve only got two, three days max. I don’t know how long either of them could hold out without food or water, but the professor will probably go first. He’s fit for his age, but he is older.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s get to it!” Brian declared.
As they entered the main hall at House Bob, Brian watched the reactions of their house NPCs with new eyes. He was looking for signs that would confirm the hypothesis they had come up with in the oracle’s chamber. Were the game characters waking up? Not knowing how they would respond to their house leaders appearing out of nowhere, the group had agreed to be on their guard from the first moment.
None of the hired guards or the low-level recruits even twitched their heads in their direction. They seemed absorbed in the tasks they had been programmed to perform when not actively engaged in an assignment. Two of the guards were standing at attention on either side of the foyer, facing the trophy totem pillar, while one could be seen through the windows patrolling the front of the house.
The new recruits were in the dining area, discussing house honor and the wisdom of their choice to have joined House Bob. Brian wondered whether NPCs were programmed to run dialogue sequences like that regardless, or if it meant that other NPCs in the world had woken up enough to have begun founding their own houses. Typically there wouldn’t be competition for attracting recruits unless there were other real players active in the world looking to build up reputation and power within their factions by founding a house as Brian and his friends had done.
He was just about to go and ask when Hektarin, the steward, approached. “Master Bob,” Hektarin bowed his head slightly toward Brian as he spoke, “and Masters Kolvurin, Sylendra, Demetrius, and Zaglug.” Hektarin gave a deferent nod to each of the others in turn. “Your return is well-timed. The Scholar of Anorit has sent several messages requesting to speak with you. Additionally, you have applications from interested parties to join the house. I have compiled them for your perusal when the time is convenient.” He held out a small stack of parchment to Brian. Brian extended his hand and the items were added to his inventory.
[QUEST ADDED: GET YOUR BUTTS TO THE LIBRARY!]
Wow. That’s an unexpected quest title!
But before Brian had a chance to open his quest log to read the description, Hektarin continued, “You may be interested to know that I have had several conversations with a suspicious elf outside the house.” They all perked up at that. “I’m aware that you employ various… methods,” Hektarin flashed his eyes up and down Brian’s Morr’Tai armor, “to further the interests of House Bob. But I think this fellow would rather see the house dismantled than allow you to use your guild as a vehicle to amass either wealth or prestige in the name of House Bob.”
The guards inside the foyer were now beginning to take notice of the conversation, though they remained at their posts. Their eyes were on the steward and they were clearly listening. A couple of the new recruits at the back had now moved to the archways and were also listening intently.
“Is the elf you speak of a tall Vishi’Tai with a red cowl that carries the mark of a wavy sword?” Brian asked, eager to hear what their steward might have gleaned about Rored.
“Yes. He has approached the house twice now and met me in the marketplace once besides. Each time he had questions about the qualifications for house membership and sundry other details about the maintenance of the household. I informed him in no uncertain terms that it is the masters’ business to assess candidates for entry, and my business to maintain order in this household. He… pressed the matter, but withdrew after a polite suggestion that the Order of Matronly Hearts has a position specifically kept open for aspiring querists.”
Chris started chuckling, “Oh man, Hektarin, you are a wit! Brian, I think he called the bad guy an old lady busybody!”
While Hektarin did not break into a full smile, the expression on his face betrayed his own amusement and satisfaction.
“I’m gonna say that we have good evidence of woke NPCs,” Mike whispered in Brian’s ear. Brian nodded his agreement.
“Hektarin Longshield, you have done perfectly,” Rhonda produced a small sack of gold and offered it to Hektarin. “We will review the applications for new house members, and in the meantime will also be working to hire additional companions for some work we have ahead of us. Continue doing the excellent job you have been doing. You have the authority to direct the current employees and members of House Bob to protect it from any and all threats. Things may become heated over the next few days. Are yo
u up to the challenge?”
“Master Sylendra,” Hektarin saluted by bringing his right fist to his breast, “I am prepared for any challenge.” He smiled and turned to provide instructions to the other NPCs.
Brian and the others left the house, speaking in hushed tones about the change in their steward over the course of only a day. Whatever effect the AI was having, it seemed to be accelerating. As they made their way into the heart of the city, their conversation turned to their choices for bulking up on loyal NPCs.
“We should take some time soon to look over the applications for house membership, but I think we should head to the Drunk Imp. There are a smattering of hirable companions who have been camped out there since the beginning of the game, plus one or two more that I have met in the course of the quests I’ve worked on,” Rhonda said.
“Yeah, me too,” Chris agreed. “I’ve got a pretty good one I saved from an angry mob in a village on the way to Ceta. She’d be a good warrior to have on our side. I didn’t feel like hiring her on at the time, since we were just grinding for experience at that point mostly, but she said she’d be working in Fezhik if I was ever in need of her services.”
“I think that is the appointed place for potential companions you uncover in the game if you’ve chose to play as a Greencap,” Augustin affirmed. “I’ve met a couple as well.”
“Let’s go then!” Brian was starting to feel like there might be some hope for success.
When they entered the Drunk Imp, the feel of the place was definitely different, even more so than the last time they had visited. Many of the NPCs stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the party when they entered. Some looked surly and suspicious, but many more looked pleased to see them and perhaps a few even a little star-struck.
Four people stood up from a bench on the side of the room. Brian knit his brow, thinking that he might have vaguely noticed one or two of them in passing during previous visits to the pub, but only just now really seeing them, any of them. He scanned his eyes over the crowd, trying to decide who might be worth negotiating with for services, but these four definitely stood out. These were not simple guards or adventurers with some basic gear. These were unique soldiers.
“Allow me to introduce my friend,” Mike said, walking over to the side of the dining room and clasping wrists with a dark-skinned dwarf. Gold brackets adorned his chestnut beard, and turquoise robes with fur lining around the collar indicated a character of high station. “This is Atheron Holdirk,” Mike turned and grinned. “No relation to the Holdirk brothers at the Pink Quill Inn.”
“At your service,” the dwarf said with a deep bow, gripping a dwarf-sized staff of blackthorn wood. “Friend Kolvurin, it is good to see you. How do you fare?”
“I am well,” Mike replied, “but I am in need of your assistance. Would you consent to traveling with me for a time to help me save a friend?”
“I am most certainly at your service,” the dwarf took Mike’s wrist again and pulled him in for a chest bump that sounded like it would have been painful in real life.
A large Konnon warrior stepped forward wearing a full set of highly polished plate mail.
“This is Krestin Durmar,” Rhonda said. “Skilled with axe and bow.”
The Konnon bowed, but didn’t say anything.
“Krestin, as I restored your child to health, so I require assistance now to restore my friends to their own minds. They have been ensnared by a being from beyond this world. Will you help me?”
“It would be my honor,” Krestin replied.
Chris stepped up and pointed toward a tall female figure wearing a black mask similar to Chris’s. When she came forward, she didn’t bow, but offered a closed-fisted salute over her heart. “This is Shuggra Felmat. She is... similar to me, if you catch my drift.”
Brian figured that meant she was half-orc, but he had guessed that the moment he saw the face mask.
“Of course they know what you mean,” Shuggra said, her voice bordering on angry. “But best not to blather on about it to the whole world.”
Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “She always talk like that?”
“Talk like what?” Shuggra shot back. “You outlanders are the ones who speak strangely.”
Brian turned and regarded Chris, who simply shrugged.
Unsheathing a serrated dagger, she pumped her gauntleted fist into the air. “If the gold is right, I fight. Whether I fight for outlanders or orcs makes no difference. Glory and gold, that’s all that matters.”
“You’ll be paid, Shuggra,” Chris sounded slightly exasperated.
She snorted. “Yes, and up front. Watch your scrawny little friend here though. Much more disrespect from this one and I will need to increase my fee.”
Augustin stepped forward and cleared his throat. He pointed to the final character. “This is Luthor Goldhammer,” he said. “He comes from a long line of noble dwarf warriors.”
Luthor stepped forward and gave a slight nod of his head. He had a large war hammer secured to his back, a pair of daggers at his waist, and spiked gauntlets to match his dwarven steel plate armor. “I have slain everything from human bandits to centaur warriors,” Luthor bragged.
“I have killed a centaur myself,” Brian said.
“As have I,” Krestin said. “I beat one to death with my bare hands.”
Shuggra snorted. “I married a centaur once.”
Everyone stopped and looked at her.
Brian frowned, trying to picture how their children would have looked. The image of an orc head and torso attached to an equine body wasn’t entirely off-putting. In fact, it made for a cool race, but from what he knew of Terramyr lore, such a union would never last long enough to produce offspring.
“It didn’t last. He angered me by talking too much. I cooked him over a spit and offered his flesh for a feast back in Pythos.”
The silence that followed her claim was so thick, Brian felt like he could reach out and take a whole handful of it from the very air around him. He had no idea how to get control of the conversation back now. Luckily, Luthor took control.
“Demetrius, do you require assistance as well?” the dwarf prompted.
“Um, uh, yes,” Augustin was still recovering from Shuggra’s shocking, unsolicited revelation.
“I too will require a fee, but you will find me a more amenable companion than the… lady over here,” Luthor hesitated before forcing the word out in a put-off tone of voice. Shuggra simply snorted, seemingly satisfied to have had an effect.
Brian glanced around the dining room, wondering whether there was an NPC who seemed worth his coin to hire. What he found though, were that several patrons seemed to have become aware of Shuggra’s identity. The loud talk of roasting a centaur for a feast in Pythos, the stronghold of the orc faction on Prirodha, was probably the clincher for anyone who might have already been suspicious of her size, manner, and strange face mask. The characters were definitely more aware than their original programming would probably have allowed for.
“Guys,” Brian began nervously, “I think we had better move the rest of this conversation upstairs.” The other players followed his gaze and agreed quickly as several tables’ worth of patrons had begun whispering together and casting unfriendly looks their way.
They quickly moved to the room where the broken save point and the tapestries of both the professor, Barry, and Meredith reminded them all of the very real consequences of failure. Brian closed the door behind them. The NPCs began helping themselves to the food, which apparently was still regularly restocked at the long dining table. His friends began sharing details with each other about how they had met their respective companions.
Brian took the moment of reprieve to open his quest log and read the description of the strange quest that had been added when he took the parchments from Hektarin back at House Bob.
You noobs need to get your butts to the Scholar’s library immediately.
Something has gone very wrong. I’ll nee
d to walk you through our options. Move it, now!
Closing his user interface quickly, he turned to tell the others to check their quest logs when there was a heavy knock at the door.
Thump thump thump!
Brian was unsure what to do. The strange quest momentarily forgotten, his adrenaline spiked as he imagined a number of scenarios. Rored? A group of angry patrons, or possibly the proprietor, come to throw them out of town for consorting with an orc? The four companions were on their feet in a moment, brandishing swords, staffs, and daggers. His friends each equipped a weapon or spell as well.
Shuggra hissed and eyed Brian from behind her mask. “I think it’s for you.”
Brian grunted. I liked it better when they couldn’t go so far off-script. He started for the door and Augustin called out after him.
“What if it’s...” Augustin didn’t have to finish the sentence. Brian knew what he meant. He prepared himself to pull Flaming Death from its sheath just in case. At least he had his own private band of mercenaries at his back, not to mention his actual friends.
He started to reach for the knob, but then stopped short when he remembered there was a panel of wood that could slide away to allow for a peek at the visitor. He gently moved the slat aside and looked out.
Someone in a black helmet stood just inches away from the door. All Brian could really see was the black, highly shined visor. He couldn’t quite make out the eyes or see much else because of how close the person was.
“Can I help you?” Brian asked, unsure of what else to say.
“Let me in,” a familiar voice said. His mouth dropped open as the visitor reached up to remove her exquisitely crafted helmet. Staring back at him was Freya.
“Freya, what are you doing here?”
“Let me in, it isn’t safe to talk in the open,” she said, glancing in the direction of the stairs. The sounds that were carried up to Brian’s ears did not sound like the typical lighthearted, looped background environment that had characterized the pub on previous evenings.
