by Kris Schnee
"Club."
"And me with nothing, to feed a bunch of NPC kobolds."
"Yep! Here, you can borrow the knife. Be very careful in the next room so we don't disturb the bats."
They crossed the little waterfall ledge and got soaked again, but this time Stan tried using magic to make an overhanging bit of rock grow to redirect the waterfall's flow and get themselves and the torches less wet. Eddie said, "You talked about educational content, but magic doesn't exactly count."
"It's puzzle solving."
Down past the traps and bats and water, they reached the kobolds' cavern. "Dinner!" Stan called out.
The creatures gathered around again, many of them armed with their spears and blades. "What food? You bring other hu-mun for dinner?"
"No, but I have these." Stan pulled out the contents of his inventory.
A window popped up showing the results: [A feast including dessert! The kobolds are pleased with your offering.] The tribesmen started bounding around and snatched the food, jabbering about a feast.
"Wait," said Stan. "While I'm practicing magic I might as well try it again. 50% success chance on consumables, I think it was?" He snatched back one of the bread loaves, then began casting a Growth spell on it. He manipulated a magic icon through the hovering field of dots and spikes... and popped his spell against one of them. The magic fizzled badly enough that the loaf crumbled into dust.
[The kobolds are slightly less pleased.]
"What was that supposed to do?" asked Eddie.
"Earn us more bread. I guess I'm not a miracle worker." Stan looked at the kobolds again and said, "I get some ore, right?"
"Go get!" said the chief, pointing to the rich veins on the walls.
Using disposable stone picks, Stan and Eddie got a full load of copper to take home, while the tribesmen chattered behind them and made useless suggestions.
The chief said, "You work hard like Whitescale."
"Who?" asked Stan.
Eddie laughed. "Come on, do you really want to get into the elaborate backstory of a tribe that's going to stop existing when you look away?"
"Actually, yes. It doesn't hurt any to hear. If I understand the rules right, your trip with me won't prevent you from having some kind of related adventure if you come back later."
The kobold chief spun a story about a clever, hard-working kobold named Whitescale, who might well have never existed in any sense. The hero's tribe had been menaced by an evil human village that sent marauding bandits to kill them, but he saved his people using his knowledge of traps and ambushes.
Stan looked up from his screen and met Eddie's eyes; Eddie shrugged. Was there any significance to the legend? Would knowing it give him a bonus to something? Stan found he didn't care; Ludo wanted to show him something, and it was reasonably interesting. In a way this bit of lore was its own reward.
He finally went with Eddie back out of the cave, waving goodbye to the kobold tribe that trailed them all the way back to the entrance. Eddie exited but Stan remained at the threshold, thinking, When I step out, you'll go away. He pushed the help button and said, "Hey, uh... These guys aren't anything like full AI minds, are they?"
The reply was, [They're not. Bits of their story have been heard by others, and others will find some version of them, so they don't exactly cease to exist.]
Eddie said, "Well?"
Stan nodded, then in the game waved once more and stepped outside. In this game I'm not totally sure what's real. I once talked to an AI without even noticing. Some bit of code must run these ones as a recurring set of background characters. Nobody cares about them, but maybe they'll remember me.
* * *
The next day while working in the fields, he returned by audio to his royal training. The voice of Stan's chosen adviser, the deer-centaur smith, spoke to him. "As long as you're blindfolded, listen to the VIPs talking. See if you can figure out who's allied with who."
There was Earl Something of House Whatever, some counts and three guild representatives, giving speeches about an upcoming festival. Everybody was talking about the same subject, and everyone agreed that it was a wonderful idea, yet they managed to sound opposed. Between speeches Stan said, "The last guy was what, House Brubeck?"
"Steader."
"He made it sound like the kingdom was going through tough financial times, even though the earlier dude, the actual Brubeck I think, kept saying 'prosperity, prosperity'."
"Does that tell you anything?"
Stan spent several minutes digging a ditch. "The prosperity guy mentioned an upcoming project to build new docks. So if he thinks there's a lot of money, there's some available for building."
The adviser prompted, "Does he believe that?"
"I guess. But he wanted everybody else to think so, too. And the next guy up is the builders' guild, House Houlton I think you said. He'd be all in favor of new docks, so he'd tag-team with the last guy."
"That's a good insight."
Stan squinted up into the cloudless, blazing sky. "Does any of this apply to the real world?"
"Your 'Outer Realm'? It's very similar. Would you like an example?"
"Please."
The fantasy tutor seemed unfazed by the context shift. "Let's listen to the speeches given last Fourth of July by the president of the United States, and by the president of the American Free States."
Stan listened to one proclamation praising "the ongoing struggle for equality" and one about "God-given liberty". He said, "Doesn't sound like the same holiday."
"Exactly. If you see the idols change, the culture is changing too. When you take that silly blindfold off" -- he meant, play in full graphical mode -- "notice how people are dressed along with what they say."
Stan pulled off his broad-brimmed hat to wipe his forehead. The sweatband was gross as usual. "I doubt that courtly fashion is very relevant today."
"Clothing is a symbol. Every human culture uses it that way. Look for it. That's your first lesson in diplomacy, your highness."
Stan looked around and laughed, feeling far removed from a royal court. He wasn't somebody who dolled himself up to "send a message"; he and the other Community farmers around him wore government-issue casual shirts and pants to block sunburn, that's all. But for some color variations and some people wearing t-shirts with snappy slogans like "Only morons read my shirt", they pretty much looked identical. That was practical, not symbolic, like everybody wearing wool in a country that had lots of sheep. Or newbie Thousand Tales characters having the same generic shorts and shirts because there was no nudity in public zones. Come to think of it, there were cloth and clothing merchants in the Isles even though regular clothes did little or nothing for your stats. He hadn't cared about them because he had nothing to buy or sell, and had higher priorities than making a cool wizard robe... which meant that anyone who looked at him either saw a newbie, or someone who just didn't care. He wasn't a mighty warrior in the game, just like anyone seeing him in the real world knew he wasn't a robed Arab or some loincloth-wearing tribesman or a uniformed soldier. They knew he was a Community kid, one of the horde of young people the government was putting on labor-intensive farms for lack of a clear idea of how else to use them. Interchangeable, unimportant.
He looked at his hat and thought about all the things it could be: fuel for a fire, or a bowl for fruit, or a sieve, or a mousetrap. None of those uses were practical but he could see them. This particular hat style was also a mark of a Community resident, as surely as a kilt marked a Scotsman.
Mina trotted into view and waved, wearing standard-issue too but with cleats and shin guards. "Soccer game's starting, Stan. You in?"
"I'm on shift."
"Shift ended ten minutes ago, and we could use another player."
He admired Mina stretching and showing off in the afternoon sun. "Sure; just let me stop by my room."
* * *
Later in the Endless Isles, a message greeted him. [You earned another magic element! You can pick one o
f the following due to your recent experiences: Kobold, Cave, Stone, Food, Shape, Metal.]
A tricky choice. He currently had Growth, a verb-ish element that was pretty limited without nouns. He felt a little constrained by the thought of only doing "Grow Metal" spells, let alone "Grow Kobold", but either would be an expansion to what he could do, not a limit. "Are these my only options? Not the list I had the first time with Sun and Sap?"
[Your options each time are based on recent experiences or in that first case, the wand you made. Now that you're getting your second element, you should know about two other options. You may upgrade an existing word to Level 2 to free up one of your four Level 1 slots instead of adding a new word, and you can replace your wand to immediately swap out that first element. (Once a day maximum.)]
"There should be some kind of, say, temporary element slot so you can swap stuff out easily."
[Ah, but it's not supposed to be easy! Make a selection.]
True; he couldn't have everything he wanted at once. "Since I'm starting to do smithing, how about Metal? Can I multiply metal if I use that with Growth?"
[Still risky, but you should profit from it on average. Keep in mind that you can get other verbs later to do more with the noun.]
"Metal it is, then."
An electric guitar fanfare played and metallic fragments swirled around him, condensing into a mystical symbol that then vanished. Stan did that devil-fingers rock salute, then noticed that his character had a brown tattoo-like mark on his right hand, in the shape of an ingot. On his left hand was a picture of a plant sapling. "What's this?" He also had a sort of bloodless red gash on his side where his major wound from last time hadn't healed yet; the minor ones were gone.
[You're doing shamanic magic, which comes with markings. These change with your powers. Up to four markings on the hands and feet, higher level slots farther up.]
Stan gestured with one hand and then the other to make his character do the same, looking the symbols over. He'd seen some people with mystical tattoos but hadn't paid much attention to the exact magic rules yet. "Marked as a magic-user. Okay, I can work with this. Now, there's smithing to do."
Tonight (well, broad daylight in the Isles) the workshop was busy. A guy in a leather apron was working the smelter already and chatting about dungeon-crawling. His main audience was a woman with tufts of pink feathers on her head, and feathered arms that ended in taloned hands. She was brewing something at the alchemy station. Alaya was there too, sitting around with a book and ignoring the other bystanders who were crafting wood and leather items.
"Did you get the arrows I left?" Stan asked the archer.
Alaya said, "Yeah; here's the money."
As expected, he'd foolishly spent copper ingots to get copper coins, but it was still nice to be paid. The money would cover a few workshop admission fees. "You look like you're doing well." She had upgraded to fancy leather armor and a nicer bow. The other two adventurers with her had similar middling gear like an iron spear for the bird lady.
Alaya said, "Haven't been online much lately. We're heading out soon to do some quest for Meg over there; are you still a pack mule?"
Hey, if that's what you want from me... Stan kept up his smile. "For hire. I even have a special power to carry more than usual."
"In those?" said Alaya, looking over his luggage. He had the crude cloth backpack Alaya had given him on his first cave trip, plus the burlap sack he'd found the assassin dagger in and had actually valued more than the dagger.
"I haven't had the chance to make a proper pack yet." Stan looked over to the leather crafter and said, "Hey." That sounded jarring after a day of royal diplomacy talk. "Excuse me, sir. Would you be willing to sell me a backpack? I don't have much but I've got copper ore and I can craft wood and metal things."
Alaya said, "I can spot you the cost, if you come along and that's your share of the quest loot."
"Let me see if I can do better," Stan said. The elf working the leather station seemed to be piercing a piece of hide with needles, without working one of those holographic puzzles to simplify the process. "Oh, are you using advanced crafting?"
"You noticed? I like doing the details; Ludo got me into trying it in the real world. So far I've just managed to hurt myself doing that but with this practice, I can do better next time." The elf paused and went through a stretching animation. "I can make a backpack for you pretty quickly if I use the simple mode for the biggest pieces; I want to get practice in doing the small fiddly bits. Can you get me some metal buckles?"
"Sure! I mean, yes. What else do you want as pay?"
"How about a couple of lizard hides?"
[Quest offered by Simaros: Professional Lizard Maimer. Get a couple of lizard hides. Reward: Leather Backpack. (Probably not cruelty-free.)]
"Easy enough. Be right back; maiming lizards."
Stan hustled out to go clubbing, but had a tough time finding the usual prey species. Instead he spotted a treehouse in the inland jungle, one that had sprung up in the last few days and now stretched across multiple trunks. A rope ladder led up there but had been pulled up. Stan frowned. It looked like somebody had built a home here and disrupted the totally realistic ecosystem of respawning lizards. Inconsiderate, but there wasn't a rule against it. All of Central Island was fair game for construction, not just the main village.
Stan said, "Huh. I don't think I can solve this one right away." There was a chance, though. If the game was trying to model the critters having being chased off, then they'd have shown up elsewhere. He stalked through the jungle away from the treehouse to find another hunting spot.
Soon enough, one found him. A trio of lizards leaped down from the trees and glared at him. Stan recalled that he was starting this battle off with a major wound and hadn't taken on this many at once before. He drew his club and jumped at the one on his right, scoring a solid hit. The other two snarled and stretched their long necks to bite him, and he only managed to dodge one. He gave up on tactics at that point and flailed everywhere. A bunch of wound icons flashed by but he was doing damage, too. He'd even killed one already! But with a frighteningly loud snarl one of the critters jumped him and bit his neck, making the screen flash red and fade out.
[DEATH. Stan took on a challenge at the wrong scale.]
Oh, hell, now what? He'd gotten killed for the first time after all these sessions.
[Respawning in five minutes.]
Stan groaned and stood up. Yeah, three at once with nothing but a club was a bad idea. He stretched, stepped out to the bathroom, and came back in time to have adventurer Stan reappear back at the Crown and Tail, without his stuff.
"No, no! My equipment! I put hours into that!" He checked his inventory; nope, nothing left. It was just a game; it didn't matter. But he'd worked so hard at it!
"You okay?" said a passing swordsman.
"I lost everything."
"Oof. Good magic items and gold?"
"Well, no." Stan laughed bitterly. For him, a few bits of wood and a burlap sack were most of his assets. "I can rebuild. I've still got the skills."
He trudged back to the workshop, thinking, Ludo must have some goal in mind; he wouldn't just screw me over completely with a random encounter.
"Sorry, mister," he told the leather-crafter, who'd made most of the parts of a backpack already. "That didn't go well."
"Don't worry about it. I liked making this thing, so you can just have it."
Stan's cheeks flared. "I don't want it to just be issued to me like I'm -- like it's nothing."
"Hey, relax. This world wouldn't work well if there were no handouts ever, and you can think of it as owing me a favor. Besides, you're going to contribute the metal, right?"
"I lost everything."
The smith who'd been working the smelter pointed to a pile of ingots on a table. "No you didn't; you left your last ore supply and your wand behind when you went to fill your bags with lizards. I did the metal for you while I was at it." Stan bit back a comp
laint, but the smith said, "My friend's right. And you should see the idiots who make the bustiest character they can so they can try scamming people out of good equipment. You're not one of those."
Stan took the metal. He said, "Thank you both. How do I start doing better metal, anyway? I think I need tin?"
"Once you've practiced enough with copper you can start making alloys of it. Copper plus tin gets you bronze, plus a few other options that would realistically need different metals. Then you can start making iron stuff with more practice."
The leather guy added, "Want to go see if any of your stuff is intact? Your club and wood blocks probably took a beating but there might be something to salvage."
Stan sighed. "No, it's probably not worth the trouble if I can start making better replacements. Oh! My bags!"
"I'm pretty sure low-grade items like those got ruined."
"Great. So if I do this pack-mule mission with Alaya, I really am going in with nothing to contribute but inventory space. Are you in on that too?"
"Not me. I'm a pretty casual player." Judging from his outfit, he'd put more effort into his leather-working tools than into actual adventuring gear. "They're going way over to West-10 North-4."
Alaya came back at that point, along with the smith who'd been with her and the part-bird lady named Meg. Stan said, "I hear you're going far out. Can I get a ride to South-10?"
The archer said, "We're going the other way. Are you ready for the hireling job?"
Stan looked at the pile of unworked ingots beside him. "Wouldn't it take hours? I can't stay online forever." He looked the explorers over suspiciously, trying to see beyond the official in-game messages. He'd assumed they weren't uploaders, and the fact that they weren't already super-advanced characters suggested the same.
Meg waved one taloned hand to him. "Someone has to be at the helm or you risk your boat getting attacked, but otherwise you can log out and be asleep. We should arrive in a few hours and then get to do the dungeon."
"I'm on the west coast and it's night here. I can't be online for a morning mission." He was a bit jealous of the idea that a ship was a mobile save point.
