Girl Geek: A Gaming The System Prequel

by Brenna Aubrey

Him: So…are we going to kill stuff or what?

  Me: We have to work on this quest for General What’s-His-Face.

  Him: *yawn*

  Me: Come on, we’re only fifth level. Let’s go pick some pretty yellow daffodils in honor of his lost love!

  Him: These quest designers suck.

  Me: It’s romantic. General SylvanWood wants to remember his lost love.

  Him: *sigh*

  ***

  *Elosia has entered the world of Yondareth

  FallenOne and Eloisa make their way out of the city gates with a nod of approval and a thumbs-up from General Sylvanwood. He wishes them well and thanks them for their desire to help him.

  “The next meadow over yonder.” The general points the way through the city barricade past the forest line. “In that first clearing. They only grow there.”

  Eloisa turns to FallenOne, the fifth-level spearman who wears only a loincloth and bears a weapon as long as he is tall. He’s a strange-looking character with a bald head and a long, snowy beard—a wizened man who, it seems, is not as old as he appears….

  Eloisa, on the other hand, is a spiritual enchantress with revealing robes of bright colors, ornate charms and shining, brilliant jewelry crawling up her arms. Her ears might be pointed, but she’s far from a tiny figure in a tree who makes cookies and sings. She’s more like an eternally young old soul—a protectress. Like the legendary Galadriel.

  Into the forest they go, opposing bats and animated skeletons in their way. As they do so, they start to work together. When FallenOne dies in the third battle against a particularly annoying skeleton, Eloisa runs back to the city gate to meet his ghost so they can recover his things together.

  “Come on, Fallen, let’s make sure this doesn’t happen again,” says Eloisa.

  “I’m sick of dying. I think we should just redo the quest later.” FallenOne sighs, his head hanging low with discouragement.

  But Eloisa is determined!

  “I think we’ve got the hang of this. Shall we try one more time? If it looks like the mobs are going to kill you, I’ll throw myself in the way!”

  “Fat lot of good that will do! They’ll just come after me once you die.”

  “No, because you can run fast and dodge them.”

  As it turned out, neither of them had to sacrifice themselves or die.

  They learned to work together. Since Fragged was gone, they didn’t have a strong warrior to absorb the damage, and since Persephone wasn’t around either, they couldn’t benefit from her healing magic.

  Rather, they had Fallen’s spear to cause damage and Eloisa’s magic to slow down the monsters—and enhance FallenOne’s fighting ability!

  They succeeded…because they figured out a way to do it together.

  Eventually, they make it to the clearing in one piece, where they find a field of red poppies with only tiny dots of flowers of other colors—purple violets, bright marigolds and white daisies. Finding the requisite number of yellow daffodils is challenging while fighting off giant bees—with humanoid heads, no less—and one enraged gardener who chases after them, wielding a hoe.

  “Look at us,” FallenOne says. “We really do make a good team.”

  “Yes,” Eloisa replies. “High Five, spearman!”

  And so began their duo adventures, spending time together way too late in the night.

  ***

  *You tell FallenOne, Where were you the other night?

  *FallenOne tells you, I had a date. Sorry.

  Me: Oh, interesting…didn’t know you had a girlfriend.

  It might have been pure assumption that he’d been out with a female, but his previous comments about liking boobs had led me to believe that he was heterosexual…so I presumed it was a woman.

  Him: Not really a girlfriend. Just a friend.

  Me (strangely relieved): Ah. Does she play DE?

  Him: Nope. No way.

  Me: Why “no way”? Would you not associate with a gamer chick or something?

  Him: I associate with you, don’t I?

  Me: Not the same. We aren’t friends IRL.

  Him: It’s the same. I consider you a friend.

  Me: But I bet this girl knows your name. You never tell me your name.

  Him: You’ve never asked.

  Me: You know mine. Quid pro quo, ya know…

  Him: Quid pro what?

  Me: Tell me your name. Don’t be dense.

  Him: I’m naturally dense. I’m male.

  Me: Har har. You’ve been reading my blog too much. Okay so…spill.

  Him: My name is FallenOne.

  Me: You suck. ..|.. (that’s the virtual middle finger in case you didn’t pick it up)

  Him: You wound me.

  Me: I don’t care.

  Him: I just like having a mysterious persona.

  Me. I can tell. Someday soon, I’ll pry it out of you.

  Him: I might even enjoy that.

  Hmm. Okay. Definitely heterosexual.

  Wait, was he flirting with me? After having gone out on a “date” with a “friend”? I frowned, puzzled. The dating habits of people my age—or presumably my age—still confused me.

  Me: Well anyway, we could become IRL friends and it would be awkward calling you Fallen all the time. And if you ever come out to California, you could hang with me and Fragged. We could show you a good time.

  Him: What part of California are you in? North? South?

  Me: South. Not far from LA.

  Him: Really…

  Me: You seem surprised. Where are you at?

  Him: I’m going to opt for being mysterious again.

  Me: Pffft.

  Him: Actually, I’m getting super tired. It’s 4 am and I’m falling asleep.

  He really must have been tired because he just revealed, despite his earlier evasiveness, that he was three hours ahead of me. So that narrowed his state of residence to anything from Maine clear down to Florida, as far east as Massachusetts and as far west as Ohio.

  Oh, hell. That wasn’t narrowing it down at all…

  Me: Do you have an early class?

  Him: I have to be out the door at 9. This isn’t good.

  Me: Drink lots of caffeine. Good night!

  Him: Zzzzzzzzzzz

  As time went by and we got together regularly two or three nights a week, it got harder and harder to pull details out of him. It had become my mission to figure FallenOne out, but even Heath was no help.

  And, of course, when Fallen wasn’t around and the rest of us were, we’d speculate about him.

  “Maybe he’s a movie star,” Katya said. “I’ve heard there are famous people who like to play games like these so they can be social while remaining anonymous. I read an article that Henry Cavill was playing World of Warcraft when his agent called him to tell him he got the part of Superman. He almost didn’t pick up because he was on a raid!”

  I snorted and Heath’s only comment was, “If Fallen looks like Henry Cavill, then I call dibs. I don’t care if he’s straight.”

  “Seriously,” Kat continued. “My favorite author blogs about playing WoW but won’t say what character she plays or which server.”

  Across from me, Heath shrugged. “Maybe he’s just some sort of weird recluse.”

  “He has a girlfriend,” I said.

  “Shut up!” Kat practically yelled over our voice chat. “Dudes who play this game don’t have social lives.”

  Heath blew out a breath. “Screw you. I do.”

  “You don’t count,” Kat replied. “You date men. You could just get your dates hooked on gaming so you’d have immediate company and no time conflict.”

  I looked at Heath over my monitor and started laughing. Nothing could be further from the truth regarding Brian. That shithead—a name I only called him in my head lest I hurt Heath’s feelings—not only had zero interest in gaming, but he even poked fun at our hobby. Heath had stopped playing altogether whenever Brian was over—a fact which bugged me even more.

 
; “He’s probably not a movie star, living on the East Coast,” I chimed in. “Maybe a sports figure or—oh hey, maybe he’s in DC and works in the government?”

  “Maybe he’s President Obama. Do you think the Secret Service would let him play?” Kat asked.

  Heath snorted. “Obama would never play a half-naked monk. I’d guess the Prez would be more of a Bard sort of character, given the nice speeches he gives.”

  “Wonder what Michelle Obama would play?” I asked. “An elf badass something-or-other—named FLOTUS, of course.”

  “Well, FallenOne’s probably not your president,” said Kat. “So who the heck is he? Someone needs to spark a FallenOne investigation. Heath, are you are man for the job?”

  Heath shrugged, staring at his monitor as he took care of some busywork in the game. “I think he’s just a weird dude who doesn’t like to be social and lies about having a girlfriend.”

  I frowned. Maybe that was as close to the truth as I was ever going to get. Though for some reason, that really didn’t sit well.

  The speculation ended there, however, and we agreed that FallenOne would remain a temporary mystery. He was a good player, and we all enjoyed his company. And apparently, despite being a “free spirit,” he kept coming back for more.

  It wasn’t long before our little group was a regular fixture in the game. We all had our real-life jobs. Kat and I—and, I presumed, FallenOne—also had our studies. The others had social lives, too. And those were the hours I filled with study. But when it was gaming time, we met in our virtual space and we played. Hard.

  We still had many mysteries to discover—in Yondareth, as we leveled up together, and outside in the real world. Maybe one of the mysteries we’d solve would be who FallenOne really was.

  Chapter 4: Mia Makes a New Friend

  *Pogo tells you, Hi. You’re cute

  *You tell Pogo, How on earth do you know that?

  Pogo: I have eyes. Nice armor.

  Pogo wolf whistles at Eloisa.

  Eloisa rolls her eyes.

  Loved it when numbskull kids had no ability to tell a fantasy avatar from reality, hitting on hot avatars as if they were real.

  ***

  “Hey… good news. I found a place,” I said to Heath as I grabbed the collection of dirty dishes off his desk on the way to the kitchen.

  Heath looked up from where he was concentrating on his web design work. It took him a minute to register the news, but he was still chewing on it when I got back from dumping his dishes in the dishwasher. I’d even had time to grab a glass of ice water, which I set down on my desk before sinking into my chair once again.

  But when I met his gaze, I realized that he didn’t seem as happy or as relieved as I’d expected him to be. He actually appeared skeptical. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “Where is this apartment? South Santa Ana? West Orange?”

  Naturally, he’d assumed the worst parts of town. “No.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Actually, downtown in Orange, near the university.”

  His brows rose. “You win the Lotto?”

  “It’s a studio above a garage.”

  “Huh. Well, I’ll need to see it before I can approve.”

  I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t need your approval. I am an actual adult, you know.” I’d turned twenty-one the previous month, and though I was of drinking age now, I hadn’t gone on any benders—nor did I actually feel like the adult I now claimed to be.

  And really, Heath was only six months older than me. Since when had he become the boss of me?

  His intent gaze was still leveled on mine, unfazed by my protest. “Your mom ordered me to look after you.”

  I snorted and put my feet up on my desk, grabbing my MCAT study manual. “It’s not like I’m some party girl or addict. I’m as close to a shut-in as you can possibly get without, you know, actually being one.” As if to emphasize that fact, I gestured to the book I’d just picked up. A book I could practically quote from rote memory, I’d reviewed it so much.

  He chewed on his bottom lip, appearing as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d just said. “Well… I want to come along, anyway. Just don’t put up an argument, okay? I gotta make sure my conscience will be clear.”

  “You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about! But okay…”

  I sighed. I’d basically already made up my mind, but better to put him at ease. I was determined to move out as soon as possible, absolving myself of any responsibility in their relationship’s demise, should it ever come to that. In fact, maybe moving out was my way of making sure my conscience was clear.

  ***

  “Nope. No way. You’re not living here.” Heath stood in the middle of my would-be new studio—such as it was. The place was small but somewhat charming. And it was very clean, at least.

  The apartment sat above the garage of a family who lived in a modest home just outside the City of Orange’s locally famous historic district. Like the homes around it, this one had been built in the 1920s in the Craftsman bungalow style. Additions had expanded the size, including the single room above the detached garage, where I had every intention of moving.

  “Heath.” I sighed. “This place is fine.”

  “It’s too small.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the landlady who had unlocked it for us was out of earshot. “It’s above an uninsulated garage, which will make it baking hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter.”

  “Freezing cold.” I snorted. “This is Southern California.”

  “Okay, so the temperature is relative. But I give you ten days of a Southern California September in this place, max. It will be like an oven. Also, the water heater is tiny and the pressure is crap.”

  I sighed…again. Perhaps he had no idea how miniscule my income really was. “I really can’t be picky. And besides, I don’t need a big place—just enough space for me to study, make a meal, shower and sleep.”

  He frowned. “But you don’t even have furniture or dishes, or any of that stuff.”

  I walked the perimeter of the room as if to somehow demonstrate that it was big enough for me. “I have a bedroom set already, and Mom says I can go to the ranch and pick up a few pieces of furniture. She’s got an old loveseat and a table, if I can borrow a truck to go get them. And some dishes. I don’t need a lot. It’s not like I’m going to be throwing dinner parties—or any type of parties. It’s a small place that hopefully will be quiet enough that I can study. If not, I’ll have the library just down the street.”

  He shook his head. “You sure know how to party, doll.”

  I made a face at him. “Anyway—”

  He held up a hand to cut me off. “Okay, okay, I get it. But at least promise me that you won’t sign any papers for a little while? I might be able to find you something better.”

  I failed to see how. I’d scoured all the websites, including Craigslist, called real estate offices, checked with the housing office at the university and had become intimately familiar with pretty much everything in my price range in the area—which wasn’t much since my price range was extremely limited. The alternative would be to conjure a roommate out of thin air.

  I was confident that if I gave Heath a week, he’d come to the same conclusion I had. He was just feeling guilty about Brian’s demands leading me to move out in the middle of the school year. But I wasn’t going to let him burden himself like that. So I nodded, but I didn’t promise I wouldn’t sign.

  I’d call the landlady tonight when he wasn’t around and stop by tomorrow after my early class to sign the paperwork. He’d be annoyed when he found out but also relieved. And…he’d get over it. Heath had never been one to hold a grudge.

  ***

  Days later, after working the morning shift at the hospital, I resisted the urge to take a nap, though my eyelids were drooping. Thus, I studied at my desk instead of heeding the siren’s call to go lie down on the bed. That was a quick invitation to fall asleep with my nose inside my study ma
nual.

  Instead, I made a rare cup of afternoon coffee—sure to keep me up too late—and sipped as I ran down the extensive list of item definitions, using my computer to look up additional information on terms I wasn’t sure about.

  The MCAT contained a series of hypothetical problems that needed to be solved based on background knowledge. So these key terms were essential to know, inside and out, in order to solve the hypothetical challenges.

  Every day I made it a point to answer at least five sample questions that I acquired via study materials or the Internet. As I was in the middle of this, a key jiggled in the lock, and I assumed it was Heath returning from Brian’s place after having spent the night.

  Instead, it was Brian… alone. He scanned the room and then turned to me without any greeting whatsoever. “Heath’s not back yet?”

  I blinked. Brian was already behaving as if he lived here. Which, for all intents and purposes, I guess he did.

  “I thought he was with you,” I replied. “And uh, hi, by the way. How are you?” I tagged that on there just to emphasize his rude behavior.

  He ignored me completely, carrying the box in his arms straight into Heath’s room before returning to the front room empty-handed. “He had to take his Jeep to get it detailed. He’s probably still waiting for it. Actually, it’s good because it gives us a chance to talk.”

  He’d never privately addressed me before, nor had he expressed a desire to “talk.” And every time he did address me, his voice dripped with condescension and misogyny.

  I frowned as Brian sank down on the couch, fixing me with his ice-blue eyes. His hair was perfectly styled in the so-called “flippy”—a wanna-be Harry Styles haircut. In fact, he dressed with that careful attention to detail of any man who wanted to look like a skater without ever having been within ten feet of a skateboard.

  “You need to lay off the guilt trip with Heath,” he started and then tilted his head as if lecturing a child.

  I drew back, astonished. “There’s no guilt trip. I found a place. He’s the one who’s objecting.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, I understand that’s what you’re saying… but the undercurrent is completely different. Heath feels responsible for you, and it really is time for you to grow up and move beyond the nest, little chickadee.”