Shepherd's Wolf

by M. Andrew Reid

  The little bird chirped, “This is Verdia Central. Here we will finish setting you up and getting you on your way. First we will get you a Character Manager and then you will pick a class.”

  “What and what?” Ben was confused and still trying to get his bearings.

  “Your Character Manager is a little pad you carry around that keeps track of your stats, your money, any notes you have taken. You can log onto the Internet through it and do lots of other things. When I leave, you’ll be able to use your CM for information. Pretty neat, I wish I had one,” the little bird held its wings out. “Sadly, I have no hands.”

  Zephyr motioned for Ben to step down from the platform. Together they descended the wide stairs to the main floor.

  Ben turned around, and discovered his method of entry. A white marble pad covered a raised area that took up one corner of the cavernous room. Strange static-charged blue mist crackled and hovered above the pad. Sporadic flashes of light marked the arrival of newcomers. Every person who stepped out of the haze wore a confused and awed expression.

  Not all players looked like Ben. Some of them were big hairy monsters, others were tall and thin, and still others looked like large cats walking on two legs. After a few words of advice from their animal guides, the newly arrived would file down the staircase to the floor level.

  The guides varied greatly in species. There were six-legged snakelike lizards, birds like Zephyr, large insects, tiny dragons, and many others. Each guide easily rode its master’s shoulder and had the same friendly demeanor. Without them, the room would have been filled with chaos. Each tiny assistant calmed his or her master and directed them to the appropriate areas.

  Zephyr led Ben to an empty desk; one of hundreds staggered throughout the room. Seated behind the desk was a pretty brunette woman in a pale green dress. She smiled sweetly, “Welcome to Verdia. My name is Stacy and I am going to help you get your Character Manager, choose a class, and join a faction.”

  Ben gave the woman a suspicious glance, “Are you… are you...”

  “Real?” Stacy flashed white teeth. “I’m an NPC, like Zephyr. It’s my job to make sure you get a good start in Verdia. Now, let’s talk about your Character Manager.”

  …

  “…and this is where the players actually receive their Character Managers.” Alex pointed down from a balcony hundreds of feet above. Members of the tour group were busy playing with the Character Managers that Alex had handed out.

  “The Character Manager looks like a smartphone. How is this kind of technology explained in Verdia?” a man asked.

  “There is some high tech stuff around as part of the Agilus backstory, but we don’t push it that hard,” Alex shrugged. “We figured this was better than having everyone carry scrolls and books to keep track of things, or to have immersion further broken by sifting through a menu that hovered in the air. It is just a game, remember. Also, players exist here in a different way than plants, animals, and NPCs. This lets us take a few creative licenses with the reality. So far nobody seems to care that they are using modern technology in what’s supposedly an ancient setting; they are very useful.”

  Alex waited for a bit, letting everyone soak in the atmosphere of enormity. After several minutes of silence, he continued his explanation. “The primary currency in Verdia is called the Verdii. Very clever, I know,” Alex smirked. “If you look at the screen on your CM you can see how much money you have in your account. Any money logged into your CM is the same as if you were carrying it on you. If you are killed, some of it will “spill” along with whatever else you are wearing or carrying.”

  “What happens to us when we die?”

  “You would respawn here. Respawning is like resurrection,” Alex indicated the white marble pad below. “Or at the nearest spawn point. Spawn points are built wherever a city or town springs up. They are also used as teleportation nodes, but that’s getting a little too complicated for right now. Now, let’s talk about classes.”

  …

  “What do you like to do, Ben?” Stacy asked. “Or better yet, what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Ben scratched his head, “What can I do?”

  “You can fight, you can make things, you can be a merchant...”

  “Make things? Like what?” Ben always had the most fun when he was creating something.

  “Buildings, clothes, weapons and armor...”

  “Like a blacksmith?” Ben was getting excited.

  “Yep. There are actually very few human blacksmiths in Verdia. It’s hard to learn and most people are forced to get their weapons, armor, and tools from NPC blacksmiths.”

  Nearly all goods in Verdia could be purchased from computer-controlled NPC shopkeepers and craftsman. These items would always at best be mediocre quality. This system allowed players to become far better artisans than their computer-controlled competition. However, most players were too lazy to learn a skilled trade, and relied on NPC craftsmen until they found something better on a quest or looted a superior piece of gear off the corpse of another player.

  “Why is it hard?”

  “It takes a lot of time to learn. It’s like becoming a blacksmith in the real world...”

  “Real world?”

  Stacy blinked, “Outside Verdia?”

  “Like the nurse, and the voices.”

  “Right…” she continued reading the description of blacksmithing from a screen on her desk, “…it can be very rewarding. If you get good at it, you will become famous pretty fast. Weapons and armor are the grease that keep Verdia’s wheels turning. If you can make a better sword or shield, people will pay a lot for it and tell their friends about you.”

  “It sounds like fun.”

  “You’ll get quite a few character benefits. Fire spells are easier to cast and control. You aren’t affected by heat as much. You will be able to leave your maker’s mark on anything you create. You can endow your weapons and armor with improvements that will benefit whoever uses or wears them. And since you’re a human, your dexterity is slightly raised. Do you like the sound of that?”

  “What is my mark?”

  “As an artisan you’ll have a symbol that you can brand onto anything you make. Any item with your mark will have special characteristics and abilities you can choose based on your knowledge and experience.”

  “This is all so complicated.”

  Stacy nodded, “It can be overwhelming at first, but you’ll learn fast. I can tell that you’re brighter than most people that come through here.”

  Ben grinned, “Really?”

  “You bet,” Stacy replied. “So it’s blacksmith, then?”

  Ben looked to the little bird on his shoulder. Zephyr nodded almost solemnly, “He’ll be a blacksmith.”

  “It’s settled, then; let me register you. You need a tag.”

  “A tag?”

  “A nickname. When you’re famous people will know you as...”

  “Shepherd,” Ben blurted out. “Some of the voices had called him “Mr. Shepherd” and he liked the way it sounded. Most people only called him Ben.

  “The Shepherd huh? I can guess what your symbol will be,” Stacy tapped on her keyboard. “It looks like you’re ready to go. You’ve got your Character Manager, your class, and your nickname. Now, you just need to look at factions.”

  “Where do I learn to be a blacksmith?” Ben asked.

  “That,” Zephyr replied, “is up to me. I will take care of your faction as well. You are lucky; I have a friend who is a blacksmith trainer for the Explorers. He will teach you some basics, and I will talk to him about protecting you after I leave. It is against the rules to some degree, but I do not think that Stacy will tell on us.” The little bird winked.

  “Of course not. Good luck Shepherd!” Stacy motioned for the next player in line, a big Brutalli with gold fur, to step up to the desk.

  Zephyr pointed his wing back to the teleportation pad, “Our next stop is Ra’ah, the Explorers’ city.�
�

  Ben entered the destination into his Character Manager. He was adapting quickly to the world of Verdia, having spent his whole conscious life in similarly artificial surroundings. Ben walked up the stairs to the pad and stopped. He turned to face his feathered companion, “Are you really breaking the rules for me?”

  Zephyr trilled, “Yep.”

  “How come?”

  “Because I like you, Ben- I mean Shepherd. You’re different, and I have seen a lot of people.” Zephyr pointed to the mist hovering above the pad, “Now, step in.”

  Ben walked into the swirling vapor and vanished.

  Dalton Software HQ

  Seattle, Washington

  “I don’t know how to feel about it, Alex,” Omni muttered. “I do not understand why you were so dismissive of me.”

  Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair. He swiveled around, leaving his well-appointed office behind him in exchange for the Seattle cityscape. City lights twinkled through a downpour, “I was busy, and you picked the worst times to speak up. You kept startling my guests with your sudden interruptions. I’m sorry Omni, I didn’t realize you weren’t ready.”

  “Not ready?” The reply was slightly shrill, “I’m not ready for what? What is it that I can’t do?”

  “To handle a group of people like that. You’re used to talking with me, but I’m not normal. I can handle a voice from nowhere.”

  “A voice from nowhere.”

  Alex let out a forlorn laugh, “Not you too, Omni. I can deal with or Melissa, but not both at the same time.”

  “Are you having problems?”

  Alex froze, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Omni was changing. Every day he grew more emotional, more empathetic. He even used more contractions. Alex suddenly felt uncomfortable. He rubbed his eyes, “It’s nothing Omni. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did today. It won’t happen again.”

  “And I’m sorry for startling your guests. I will try to be more careful and helpful next time. I have a lot to think about right now.”

  “That’s not a surprise. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to stretch myself over a million places at once.”

  “It’s not that. I could manage over a hundred worlds like Verdia if so needed. No, the problem is that I have yet to discover why. Do you ever wonder about why, Alex?”

  “All the time, Omni,” Alex replied, drifting off to sleep in his leather chair. The significance of a computer asking humanity’s greatest question escaped him, “all the time.”

  Chapter 3

  Bluegrass

  One Year Later

  Bluegrass

  Charles “Bishop” King watched the surf from the East Verdian Sea lapping at the white sand below him, “What a day.”

  The old mage sat at a table in a shaded café, overlooking the water. Tall blue grass, a hallmark of the region, swayed carelessly in a soft wind. The placid green ocean before him stretched around Verdia until becoming the West Verdian Sea at an imaginary line. Sailors had ventured out as far as fifty miles without finding water deeper than sixty feet. Perhaps the bottom dropped off eventually, but it would be some time before anyone had a large enough ship - or a brave enough crew - to wander that far into oblivion.

  Bishop had never been fond of boats, in the real world and Verdia both. He was content with watching the waves rather than riding them. The old man yawned and stretched, stroking a short white beard. His dark brown eyes stared wistfully out to sea. A bright white top-knot sprouting out of his otherwise bald head waved gently in the breeze. Bishop was an Electar, a Guardian Mage, and wore a flowing gold robe with red trim. His steel staff, topped with a large bishop chess-piece, rested against the table. It pointed toward a steaming cup, from which he took a sip. Bishop sighed, “If Christine could just see this…”

  “A bishop.” Suddenly, a large gauntleted hand reached across Bishop’s view and pointed at his staff, “I like it.”

  Bishop looked up from his cup and smiled, “I guess you’re Haymaker. My real name is Charles King.”

  “Bishop and King? We almost have a full chess set.” Haymaker loomed over Bishop at a little under seven feet tall. His bright red eyes glowed as his broad friendly face spread into a grin.

  Haymaker stood about a head shorter than most Brutalli and not as heavily built; he was a small, fiery man in the real world and allowed that to transfer into Verdia. Haymaker was protected by beautifully polished plate armor. Steel plate and chainmail covered his legs. Massive studded gauntlets encased his strong hands. His hair, which matched the fur that covered his entire backside under his armor, was a dark blue. It grew in a long mane, parted in the middle, and ran to his shoulders.

  His appearance made it clear that friendly could quickly become terrifying. Haymaker removed his heavy gauntlets and set them on the table with a dull clank. He extended a huge hand with thick dark pads on the palms and short blue hairs on the back, “It turns out I’m a king myself - Rex Yeager.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Haymaker.”

  It had developed into courtesy in Verdia to give someone your real name upon introduction, but it would be rude to continue using it with a stranger.

  “Same here,” Haymaker sat down in a slightly-too-small chair across from Bishop. “I’ve heard more and more about your operation since you contacted me last month. I’m eager to see it, even if I don’t get the job.”

  “Would you like something to eat?” Bishop signaled to a waiter.

  A young man stepped up to the table. He looked too cheery to be a real person. A player owned and managed the restaurant, but like most businesses in Verdia NPCs made up the bulk of the employees. “Can I get you anything, Brutalli?”

  “You got steak?”

  “Hurnt or beef?”

  A hurnt was Verdia’s version of a cow - a big, slow-witted beast not good for much except its meat and its hide. A hurnt’s front pair of legs ended in grasping claws that gathered bundles of grass. Sharp hooves could deliver good speed or a hard kick. Large eyes set high on its head kept watch for predators, and could swivel independently like turrets.

  “Beef?” Haymaker raised a bushy blue eyebrow, “There are real cows in the region?”

  Bishop nodded, “I guess enough people asked the developers to put them in the game. They came in on a ship about three weeks ago. I still like hurnt better.”

  “I’ll take a T-bone then. Medium rare. And some bluegrass tea.” Haymaker glanced back at Bishop, “I’ve never been down this far South, but I heard the tea is good.”

  “That it is.” Bishop pointed to his cup, “I’m becoming an addict.”

  “Okay sirs, I will have that right out to you.” The waiter spun around and walked back inside the restaurant.

  Bishop sipped from his cup, “I guess I should start by telling you about myself. I got my nickname long before you saw daylight. I was in the service – Marines - and I spent most of my time sharing my beliefs with anyone who came in contact with me. The guys said I should have been a chaplain, started calling me Bishop. The name stuck, and I carry it with me today.”

  Haymaker laughed, “It’s a small world.” He looked down at the table, “I was in the Marines. I flew choppers. Then I retired.”

  “Then you aren’t as young as I thought.” Bishop’s eyes flicked skyward for an instant, “Still a young’un in my book. I won’t tell you how old I am. Old enough is all you’ll get out of me.”

  Bishop paused for a moment and stared wistfully back out to sea, “I married a beautiful girl named Christine. We never had any children. She passed away one year and one month ago today.”

  “I’m sorry.” Haymaker pondered why this old man was getting this personal so soon. He seemed too sharp to be plain lonely. Maybe it was a test. This was, after all, a job interview - albeit a very strange one.

  Bishop continued, “I started playing Verdia shortly after. It took my mind off Christine. I found some people like me in the Explorers who just wanted a place to g
o and reflect - a bunch of old timers who didn’t care much for fighting saberwolves and lisks or storming castles. We decided to tramp off into the Verdian wilderness to set up a sanctuary where we could relax. We called it the Haven. Before long we started attracting all sorts of people who just wanted to enjoy Verdia without the hassle of the cities. We even have a few scientists who joined up to conduct their experiments.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. You would be surprised how many botanists, physicists, chemists, and so forth have Verdia memberships just to try out theories. It’s a lot cheaper to run through an experiment here first than to rent an expensive lab.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “What is also amazing is how much they can pay to protect those experiments and still come out saving money. Their contributions keep the Haven running.”

  “I’m still not totally sure I believe the offer,” Haymaker interjected.

  “The members of the Haven pay dues,” Bishop explained. “One thousand Verdii a month.”

  “A month?”

  Verdia had grown to such huge proportions that numerous banks sprang up to exchange Verdii for real-world money. Conversion rates flopped between five to ten Verdii for one American dollar. A person with enough money in the real world could buy whatever he wanted in Verdia. Several people had gotten extremely wealthy by being very good at their in-game jobs. Many had already “retired” from the game and any real world jobs altogether.

  “A month,” Bishop answered. “As the Haven administrator, I get ten percent of that. They put it to a vote: if you get the job you’ll make the same as me.”

  “How many members?”

  “Almost five hundred full-time members.”

  “You make fifty thousand Verdii a month? That’s at least five thousand dollars!”

  “And you could make it too, a nice little supplemental income. Especially when you consider that you’re playing a game.”