Backward Compatible: A Geek Love Story

by Sarah Daltry

  His plan remains unclear while I follow him in amongst the stacks. His head shoots from side to side as if searching for something.

  “Worried about grenade launchers in the library?” I ask.

  “Of course not. You know I play slappers only. Aha. There she is.” He points to a thin redheaded girl who’s putting books away on the shelves.

  “Do you know her?”

  “Not yet. But soon.” He rubs his hands together as if he’s hatching a plan. “And just look at her breasts. Tell me you don’t want to smack them around a little bit.”

  “I guess you won’t be coming on our date after all.”

  Katie

  I think Anna feels bad for me, because she offers to buy me lunch. I’m a little sad that I’m so, well, sad that she needs to buy me lunch, but also, free lunch. She drags me into Ruby Tuesday’s and we go through the entire process of pretending we’re going to order anything other than the damn salad bar. As if anyone goes to Ruby Tuesday’s for anything else.

  “I want a drink,” she says, and she proceeds to order a fishbowl of liquor. The waiter turns to me.

  “I’ll have a water.”

  Anna cringes. “I’m paying. You’re drinking.”

  “Fine. Do you have Mountain Dew?” I ask.

  Anna takes the drink menu from the little salt and pepper holder thing and smacks me with it. “Alcohol. Pretend you’re a full grown human female. For, like, an hour.”

  I flip through the pages. I don’t have a damn clue what the difference is between all these things. I had a Grape Crush once, but I don’t know what was in that. I also had a Mudslide, but I don’t even know if it was alcoholic or just a milkshake thing. I randomly pick and point to something.

  “Be right back with those,” the waiter says.

  “What did you get?” Anna asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Something with blue something in it.”

  “Curacao?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, so, after he gets back and we get our salads, I want all the details on this guy. And we need to plan our double date.”

  “When did I agree to go on a double date?” I ask, even though I already preemptively planned a triple date with George and Lanyon.

  “Bitch, please,” she says. She closes her menu as the waiter reappears with her fishbowl and what appears to be a Slushie for me. We order our salads, get walked through the salad bar process, and then gather our meals. I don’t even get a damn forkful of lettuce in my mouth before she’s on me like Pinky on Pac.

  “Can I eat first?” I ask.

  “Spill now, eat later.”

  I give her the short version: the game, Live, Denny’s, the reservoir. As soon as the word reservoir is out of my mouth, she smacks my fork off the table. I watch it soar and land at the feet of an old man who doesn’t notice its presence. I now have three knives but no fork with which to consume the salady goodness I concocted.

  “I knew it! You’re a secret slut,” she says.

  “I’m not a slut and, if I was, it wouldn’t be a secret. Secrets and sluts do not go together. Secrecy is the antithesis of sluthood.”

  “So you fucked him?”

  “You’re vulgar,” I tell her.

  I call the waiter over to the table and ask for another fork and then shove a huge mouthful of salad into my face before she can ask me anything else. She seems temporarily appeased, though, by the idea of my slutty, albeit fictional, exploits.

  After we finish eating, she checks her phone. “Shit. Chad’s going to be at my house in like ten minutes. Move.”

  Chad and his penis take precedence over my blossoming relationship and she brings me home. I check Live. Seynar’s on, but he doesn’t ask me to join a party. I shrug and load FDX anyway. I’ve been so wrapped up in this boy nonsense that I’m slacking on leveling. My druid is still only an 18. Ally shows up eventually and we play for a while.

  “That Seynar guy has been messaging me a lot,” she says.

  “Glad to see he’s moved on.”

  “He sucks?” she asks.

  I immolate a dwarf and gather the gil around his corpse. There’s a treasure chest full of weapons, but they’re all crap and I don’t have room in my inventory to carry around crap weapons. I consider doing a few treks to a nearby merchant to sell a few, but then I would need to leave my actual weapons by the chest and I’d have to go back and forth. I pause and shrug, moving on. Even in video games, the idea of walking a lot bores me.

  “He’s fine. I don’t know. I just don’t like him. I don’t dislike him, except when he’s trying to date me,” I explain.

  “I think I might go on a date with him. Would you be mad?”

  I laugh. “No. Not at all. But, honestly, why?”

  She slices through a parade of oncoming creatures and stops moving. “He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

  I remember his marinara goatee and his pokey bits under the Denny’s table. “He’s not really my type,” I say, trying to keep it nice.

  “Mine, either. But he just seems so pathetic. I’m a sucker for a guy I can train,” she says and laughs. “What’s your type anyway?”

  I’m about to answer when George logs in to our party. “Hey, ladies,” he says. “Looking for some action?”

  So, this is my type?

  George

  “Do you like books?” Lanyon says to the redheaded girl.

  She turns and looks at him. She has green eyes that look as if dragons hide in them. They roll over Lanyon with an emerald flame of annoyance. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for a book on how to appeal to pretty redheaded librarians. Do you have anything like that?” He smiles; she doesn’t. I’m convinced she might shank him.

  “I’m not a librarian.” She starts to turn away.

  “I never said you were a librarian. I’m just curious about the book.” Lanyon takes a sharp left turn down Virgin Alley.

  “Listen-”

  “Lanyon.” He puts out his hand. For some reason, she shakes it.

  “Lanyon. I’m at work. I don’t want to get hit on at work, okay? Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I see in Lanyon’s eyes that he’s debating about giving up. He should give up. But his brow furrows and the Beeblebrox in him can’t resist a final misguided attempt at love. He leans back in toward her. “So, do you want to get a pizza and fuck?”

  She turns, her eyes crackling with jade rage.

  Lanyon cuts her off. “What? You don’t like pizza?”

  She smiles just a bit, despite herself. “No swearing in the library.” She looks over her shoulder to the older woman at the desk. “Also, get the hell out of here.”

  We do. On the way down the epic stairs, Lanyon speaks. “I think it went pretty well. She didn’t slap me.”

  “That’s a step up for you. What now, Leisure Suit Larry?”

  “I think we should go on Live and kill stuff. That always makes me feel better.”

  ***

  One of the paradoxes of video games is this: I love playing games with my friends. I also like hanging out with my friends. However, Lanyon’s character is at his house. Mine is at my house. So, in a fine example of how technology is ruining the world, I drop him off at his house and then drive to mine so that we can play together.

  I load it up and join Lanyon. We then proceed to play one of the most intense and concentrated risk-infused grind fests I have ever been a part of. We find a thick jungle area packed with monsters way over our level. But, for some reason, everything is turning up thief and bard today. We earn far more gil and experience than a human has any right to over the course of a six-hour game session.

  I’m in the middle of giving a rare grey slime a lute tattoo when I get a message. I go to check it while Lanyon continues to battle.

  “Hey,” Lanyon says. “Some kind of weird blue crystal thing is pulsing.”

  “Never touch the things that pulse,” I warn him.

  “Yeah, but i
t fell out of a silver Minotaur. I’ve never seen one of those. It looks like a loot drop.”

  “Well, grab it then.” I’m in my Live menu, flicking over to my messages.

  “Cool. It’s in my inventory. It says it’s the Sapphire Key. It doesn’t look like a key; it looks like a gooey egg.”

  “Great work. Don’t let anything kill me,” I tell him.

  The message is from Balin1616. He’s the dwarf from the movie. His message is simple but odd. Do you know any high level bards?

  I reply. Yes. Me. Why?

  Holy shit. What level?

  I check. We have been cranking all day. 33.

  Amazing. By Thorin’s nut sack, listen. I have the red. Whatever you do, don’t go over level 42.

  I find this message to be very confusing. What the hell are you talking about?

  For the hidden boss. I have the red. Do you not know?

  I hate when people are cryptic. Clearly no. Why don’t you explain it to me? All I know is that there is some kind of hidden boss. He killed me once already. Join my Live party.

  I invite and he accepts.

  “He killed you? This is too perfect. Listen. The developers have this hidden boss guy, as you know. People have been running into it fairly often and nobody can come close to killing it. Even the mega weapons don’t do the trick. It just heals. There were so many people on boards bitching about it that the developers just let out a few clues.”

  “Awesome. What are they?” I ask.

  “There are seven colored keys. Hidden in rare monsters throughout the world. Some of them are easy to get and some are virtually impossible. I guess what they wanted was for gamers who don’t know each other to have to team up. Anyway, once you get the seven keys-”

  “Does it have to be one person with all the keys?” I ask him.

  “I don’t think so. But you need to all be together. Then you need to find the secret door. Behind it is some special thing that’s the only thing that will help kill the boss. And… here’s where you come in. The designers said that the door can only be opened by a level 42 bard.”

  “It has to be 42?”

  “Yes. 43 is right out.”

  “42. Obviously. But why a bard?” I ask.

  “Because nobody is stupid enough to play a bard. They wanted to reward someone who was crazy enough to grind out huge levels with a shit character.”

  “Ha ha. No one is crazy enough, eh? Well, they didn’t think of me, the bastards. I’m crazy like a dragon who hates treasure. You said you have the red?”

  “Yeah. The Ruby Key,” Balin says. “They call it ‘the red’ online. I’m trying to see who has the other six. Then we need a bard. That’s you. Everyone is starting bards now. But you have a huge lead.”

  “And my mom told me I’d always be a loser. Sweet. It would be cool to be the ones to get the boss.”

  “Oh, there’s also a prize. The first group that gets through the door, finds the special thing, whatever it is, and kills the boss will be flown out to Montreal and be involved in the making of the next Fatal Destiny game. And they get ten thousand bucks.”

  “Well, shit. I’ve never been so glad to know a dwarf,” I tell him.

  “I’ve never even known a bard. I have to jet. But I’ll be back later. If you find anything that says key... Do not lose it.” He logs off.

  “Wow,” I say.

  “Holy good timing, Batdouche,” Lanyon yells. I forgot he was here. “This Sapphire Key must be one of the seven.”

  “Wow again.”

  I notice Katie’s on Live. Fate is sucking me off today. I jump into her party.

  Katie

  “Katie, I’ll catch ya later,” Ally says. “Leave you guys some alone time. Lol.” Yes. She says, “lol.” Fortunately, she’s otherwise okay, a good gamer, and I have no actual friends except Anna.

  George gets really excited and tells me about the hidden boss, which sounds kind of awesome. “Ten thousand dollars,” he says. “I could buy a new car.”

  “Well, divided however many ways,” I remind him.

  “Shit.”

  “If we win, you can have my share,” I offer.

  He’s quiet. “Really?” he asks after a minute.

  “Yeah. I don’t care about money.”

  He remains quiet, but this time, he doesn’t say anything after a minute.

  “Why do people always think that’s weird?” I ask.

  “Well, I mean, it’s money. It’s kinda the only thing people care about. Especially girl people.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t. I worked a shitload in high school. Waiting tables. It blew. Once I went away to school, I decided that I wouldn’t spend money on anything I wasn’t willing to wait more tables to buy. It’s worked well. I have a decent saving account now.”

  “But you have to pay for school,” he says. “You go to Amherst. Isn’t that like 900 billion dollars a credit hour?”

  “My parents pay for school.”

  He groans. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

  I laugh. “Thanks, but I think if I was actually pretty, I wouldn’t need to save my money.”

  “True,” he says.

  “You guys are total douche canoes,” Lanyon adds. I hadn’t even realized he was here.

  “Anyway,” I say. “Did you get the car fixed?”

  “Yeah. My dad is a mechanical Spock.”

  “You want to have a redo of the date? Tomorrow maybe?” I ask.

  Lanyon jumps in. “What fucking day is it?”

  “Saturday,” I say. “Right?”

  “Yeah, Saturday. And yeah, tomorrow sounds good,” George says.

  “Where are we going?” Lanyon asks.

  “We are not going anywhere. Katie and I are going somewhere. You are going to sit at home and collect Pogs or whatever you do with yourself.”

  “Hmmm. Or I could come.”

  “No,” George and I say simultaneously.

  “Too bad. I have this super, super slippery blue egg thing that you might need so you two can have your Montreal honeymoon or whatever. But maybe I should just stay home and convince Trevor to play a bard.”

  “Trevor can’t play a bard,” George says.

  “Yes, he can. Trevor can play anything.”

  “Who’s Trevor?” I ask.

  “A bard,” Lanyon says.

  “Fine. You can come,” George agrees.

  “What?” I ask. Did George just invite his friend on our date? We really are frigging hopeless.

  “Yay. I’ll bring the lube.”

  ***

  I stayed up all night playing with George and Lanyon, and then Ally when she came back, and then by myself when everyone else went to sleep. I can’t believe they grinded without me. I started a whole new character just so they could play and then they go and level up. I don’t fall asleep until just after noon, once I hit level 36. I’m now one up on them. I only had to make my eyes bleed to get there.

  I have two hours until George picks me up, so I set my alarm to give myself an hour of sleep. I wake up what feels like two seconds later, take a shower, and get ready. George and Crimson Lightning sputter up my driveway a few minutes early. Lanyon’s sitting in the passenger seat drinking a Big Gulp. I see him lean over to honk, but George smacks him off the back of the head, turns off the car, and comes up the walk.

  “I can’t believe he actually came,” I say when George gets to the door.

  “Really?”

  “Right. I forgot to think like someone with no shame.” I’m lucky my mom went grocery shopping, because this would be even more awkward if she was home. “Mall?” I shrug.

  He shrugs back. “To the mall!” he yells, but it’s a half-assed yell, because we’re 21, on our second date – or is it the third? – and we’re going to the mall. With Lanyon.

  In the car, Lanyon moves to the back without whining. It makes me happy until he leans forward between us. “It smells like nookie back here.”

  “You wouldn’t know w
hat nookie smelled like,” George replies.

  “Yeah, I would. It smells like your mom.”

  “So the backseat of my car smells like my mom?”

  “Yeah, your mom. And nookie.”

  George

  “Maybe we should stop at the library,” I suggest.

  “Why?” Katie asks.

  “No reason,” Lanyon tries to cut me off.

  “Lanyon tried to pick up a girl at the library. It seems like I don’t need to say it, but he failed.”

  “It was a neutral result,” Lanyon counters.

  “Chaotic neutral,” I add.

  “Why would you try to pick up a girl at the library? She was probably there to study,” Katie says.

  “No,” I say. “She was there to work.”

  “You tried to pick her up while she was working? Oh, Lanyon, you are a sad, miserable man.”

  “Yes. But somehow charming.” He smiles.

  “Not charming enough apparently,” Katie says.

  “That hurts,” whines Lanyon.

  We arrive at the mall. “The mall sucks. Why are we here again?” I ask.

  “Because we are poor friendless nerds who have nowhere cool to go. And so, we must spend our evenings at the same place as tweens as we attempt to drown our sorrow in pretzels and Slurpies.” Lanyon’s monologue concludes.

  “Great point,” Katie says.

  “It had to happen eventually. But our depressing lives notwithstanding, what can we do?” I ask.

  “Just what I’m getting at. The only people our age who would come to the mall at this time are the same sad, lonely, miserable people that we are,” Lanyon replies.

  “Make your point, counselor,” I say.

  “Lanyon needs a date if he’s going to join us with Anna and the slab of meat,” Katie says.

  “Shazam. Perfect. Even a man as hideous and apocalyptically inept as Lanyon can get a date at the mall.” I smile.

  “But I didn’t bring my Roofies.”

  “Rape joke. Really funny,” I point out.