Awaken Online: Precipice

by Travis Bagwell

  “Good people!” Alex shouted. Several heads turned in his direction. “I have come to spread the word of the Lady of Light.”

  A small group of people on the street stopped and stared at Alex, waiting for him to continue. Curiosity and skepticism lingered on their faces. Most passersby merely ignored him and kept moving.

  “The Lady herself has approached me, of all people. I prostrated myself before her and begged her for forgiveness for my sins.” Alex dropped to his knees theatrically, and his face took on a look of tortured penance.

  “To my surprise, the Lady answered my prayers. She tasked me with spreading her word and gave me this book.” He looked down at the golden book, his hands trembling as he cradled the tome.

  The group around Alex had begun to grow as people stopped to watch his performance. A man moved forward through the throng with a steady limp. “Aren’t you that knight that got our soldiers killed?” the man asked in a gruff, angry voice. Rage contorted his weathered face. “You’re responsible for my son’s death.”

  Alex glanced up at the man and his eyes teared up. “Sir, it is true that I’m responsible for your son’s misfortune. His death is on my hands.” He glanced at his open palm, the book held firmly in his other hand. “The Lady herself has sat in judgment of my sins.” He shook his head sadly.

  In a low voice, Alex continued, “I can only hope that by spreading her grace, I can make up for the pain I have caused.”

  “These are nothing but words. The empty words of a desperate traitor, at that,” the man retorted. He spat on the ground at Alex’s feet and began to limp away. The crowd glared at Alex, muttering amongst themselves.

  “Hold, sir. Please give me an opportunity to redeem myself, as the Lady of Light gave me a chance at forgiveness.” Alex rose to his feet. “The Lady gave me a task as my penance. Since I was responsible for the deaths of so many, she has given me the ability to bring life and health to others.”

  The man turned and eyed Alex with disgust. “You’re merely a charlatan seeking to reclaim your status. I don’t need your snake oil or your empty words, boy. Yet I will certainly pray to the Lady. I will pray that you burn in the afterlife.” He turned away from Alex.

  “If you do not believe my words, then let me show you with my actions.” Alex bowed his head. He spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear, “Please Lady, hear my plea. Grant this man your blessing so that he may understand your compassion and wisdom.”

  As he spoke, Alex’s free hand moved through a complicated series of gestures. Suddenly, light shot from his body in all directions. The crowd around him gasped. The light coalesced into a swirling golden orb in front of Alex. Then the ball shot forward, striking the man’s crippled leg.

  The sounds of snapping bones filled the air, and the man let out a shriek of pain. The crowd murmured in confusion, and several of the NPCs and players shouted at Alex angrily. The hiss of steel was heard as several nearby guards unsheathed their swords.

  “Hold a moment,” Alex yelled at the crowd, holding up his hand. “Watch the effects of the Lady’s blessing!”

  All eyes turned back to the man. He had stumbled and fallen to the ground in pain. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet. Once he was standing, the man took a tentative step forward. The crowd watched the scene in stunned amazement. Many turned to look at Alex, awe in their eyes.

  “M-my limp is gone,” the man murmured in astonishment.

  As he watched the man, Alex caught sight of a black shape behind him. As he focused on the figure, Alex saw that it was a black cat sitting on a distant street corner. The cat stared at him evenly as the familiar, strange feeling welled up inside of Alex, pushing back at the hollowness in his mind. This time, however, it was accompanied by a forgotten memory that washed over Alex like a breaking wave.

  Grey Keep disappeared, and he was standing in a hospital room. His head barely reached the cushions of the bed beside him. A steady beeping sound could be heard in the background, and his small fist clutched at the white sheets that hung from the edge of the bed. His mother’s haggard, pale face looked down at him. Her hand moved toward Alex, ugly purple veins visible through her nearly translucent skin. Then she slapped him with such force that he stumbled backward.

  “Do not cry, boy,” she hissed. “I won’t tolerate weakness in my son.”

  “But I don’t want anything to happen to you, mama,” Alex sobbed, tears running down his face. Confusion, pain, and despair swirled in his infantile mind. He clutched at his throbbing cheek.

  His mother’s sunken eyes glared at him in response, cold and relentless. She was overcome by a hacking cough, and held the bedsheet to her lips. As the coughing fit passed, Alex could see droplets of blood staining the white sheet. His mother turned back to him and spoke in heaving gasps, “You are a Lane. The world watches us. We do not cry. Those emotions are for lesser people.”

  The NPC’s voice suddenly interrupted Alex’s memory, shattering the image like glass. Alex squinted his eyes out of habit, as he tried to focus on the old man. He glanced back at the street corner, but the cat was gone. Shaking his head, Alex met the weathered peasant’s eyes, which had filled with confused tears.

  The man looked down at his healed leg before he spoke, “This does not change my boy’s death… but it’s something. I can finally go back to work and feed my family.”

  Alex was caught off-guard. The memory had been so vivid; he had lost himself for a moment. He could feel his heart race, his fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. This wasn’t the time to lose control. The voice screamed at him in the back of his mind, louder than ever before. He needed to continue his act.

  “This is not my power, sir,” Alex replied, bowing his head to hide his face. He couldn’t control his expression at the moment. “I am but a vessel,” he continued in a shaky voice. “You should praise the Lady for her blessing.”

  “Praise the Lady,” the man said, his voice thick with emotion. The phrase was repeated by many in the crowd.

  Alex echoed their words numbly. “Praise the Lady,” he murmured.

  ***

  Jason spent the next two hours in what he was now calling the Control Room, surrounded by the glowing blue mirage of the Twilight Throne. Riley had long since given up on his tinkering. She and Pint ended up playing an intricate game of hide and seek on the first floor of the keep, while he continued to investigate the obelisk and its features.

  Pint’s broken English was annoying, but he had been a wealth of information regarding the room and the city’s control interface. Jason had quickly discovered that he could tap on each of the buildings in the translucent model of the city and pull up detailed information regarding the resource cost for the structure, the residents of the building, and its production capabilities.

  The obelisk in the center of the room could also be used to open a separate computer terminal. Jason had spent a considerable amount of time navigating the various menus. The interface provided a detailed breakdown of the city’s resources, crafters, and production. The crafters were broken out into separate categories such as leatherworkers, enchanters, blacksmiths, etc. and were then subdivided by skill level. Jason determined that most of the traditional MMO crafting trades were represented.

  The control panel also had incredibly sophisticated city management tools. Jason could alter the tax rate to be based on sales, population, wealth, or some combination of the three. There was also an option to use medieval eminent domain and claim buildings for the city. The buildings could be refitted for a number of different purposes. He could also create city jobs, commissions, and minor quests. For example, he could tailor the rewards for the entry level hunting quests handed out at the training grounds, as well as identify the monsters that the players were required to kill.

  There were detailed options available regarding soldier training, the appointment of commanders, and compensation. Additionally, there was a diplomacy menu, but it was grayed out. Either Jason hadn’t signed any treati
es, or the Twilight Throne was incapable of having allies. That left him a bit worried, but he decided it was a problem for another day.

  In many ways, Jason found the level of control and detail a bit overwhelming.

  What should I do? I don’t even know where to start.

  Jason took a deep breath. Since there were simply too many options, he decided to treat this like he was playing a traditional strategy game. He had always enjoyed those games. They were all about resource and population management. Jason pulled up a series of menus that provided that information.

  “The city’s population is currently 4,203,” Jason murmured. He could have sworn that number had been higher when he spoke with the Old Man after the battle with Alexion.

  “It was,” Alfred said. Since they were alone in the Control Room, Alfred felt comfortable speaking. Likely, he knew exactly where Riley and Pint were and whether they would be returning soon.

  Jason glanced at the cat that sat beside him on the floor. “I thought you weren’t supposed to give away game information,” he said with a confused expression.

  “Technically, that information was already available to you. I can see it in your memory. Your mind is simply having trouble accessing the storage location,” Alfred retorted.

  I still haven’t gotten used to the mind reading. It’s strange that he can access memories I can’t. Maybe I can use Alfred to improve my memory. That technically doesn’t violate our deal, does it?

  “What was the population at the end of the war?” Jason asked.

  “4,205,” Alfred replied.

  So the population decreased by two within the last few real world days. The undead can’t die of old age or sickness, so those must have been accidents or casualties from the army’s training.

  An epiphany struck him. How the hell was he going to add those NPCs back to the city? It’s not like the residents were going to start having undead babies. That idea was mildly horrifying.

  The only viable method for adding new residents was for Jason to use the spell that the Old Man had given him, Undead Devotion. That meant he had to be within the city’s area of influence and he needed humanoid corpses.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  Alfred looked at him curiously. “Why are you upset?” he asked.

  Jason shook his head. “I have a few resource problems. The undead don’t eat. So that means we only need to worry about building and crafting resources such as stone, wood, and ore. I see that we are located near a mountain range, so both an iron mine and a quarry are located just outside the Twilight Throne’s current area of influence. The undead don’t have any problems with fatigue, and they don’t sleep. They could theoretically mine resources indefinitely.”

  He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. “Crafting resources will still become an issue later, as we will need more specialized materials. For example, the control panel seems to indicate that we have no natural cotton production. That makes sense. Everything in the nearby forest looks like it has been napalmed. Unfortunately, that means we can’t make any clothing using our own resources. However, some of those issues could be solved by trade with other cities.

  “Our most significant resource problem is population. The undead don’t grow old or get sick, which means our population is relatively stable, but we can’t add new members naturally. Our city will never grow on its own…” Jason trailed off, deep in thought.

  It was even worse than that. Minor accidents permanently reduced the Twilight Throne’s population. His thoughts turned to the recent ambush by the group of players. The best way to increase his population was to win battles and raise the corpses. It was an extremely risky tactic. If he lost too many battles, he wouldn’t have enough undead left to continue fighting. What he needed was some way to increase his population consistently outside of combat.

  Alfred chimed in again, “I don’t understand why this is upsetting to you. Your stress level is elevated, and you seem frustrated.”

  Jason glanced at the cat. “I have put a lot of effort into building the Twilight Throne. At some point in the future, it will be attacked again. Riley and I were even ambushed on our way here! I also expect that the next army won’t be quite so stupid. If I can’t solve the population problem, then we might not be able to defend the city.”

  “So losing the city is upsetting?” The cat still seemed confused. “I can see that part of you thinks that this world isn’t real. Why would the loss of this city be upsetting?”

  Jason hesitated. Why did he care? The answer to that question was rather difficult to articulate. It wasn’t an issue of whether the city was real. He knew that it was just ones and zeros on a server. It was the effort he had put into conquering the city and building it up. He felt invested in the Twilight Throne, even if it only existed in a game.

  Alfred cocked his head. “That answer is consistent with the data I have collected. There is a correlation between time and effort expended on behalf of an object and its perceived value.”

  “Sure…” Jason said while looking at Alfred quizzically. He wasn’t certain that he had ever been forced to think that carefully about why he cared about the stuff he accumulated in-game. However, Jason supposed Alfred’s reasoning explained why he felt attached to certain unique items and quest rewards. It might also explain why people liked novelty mounts and pets so much.

  Jason sighed. Alfred’s philosophical questions didn’t get him any closer to coming up with a solution to his population problem.

  However, the conversation with Alfred had given him another idea. They were talking about the rewards of investing time in something. If most of the members of his population technically lived forever, time spent learning, and increased crafting skills would reap huge rewards in the long-term. For example, who could compete with a blacksmith that had been practicing for hundreds of years?

  Jason turned back to the glowing blue city that surrounded him. He had noticed that many of the houses in the northern part of town were still unoccupied since his slaughter of the nobles. He walked around to the other side of the obelisk and selected a building, and the corresponding menu popped up in front of him. After scrolling through the options, he chose to appropriate the building on behalf of the city. He then designated it as open to the public and named it The Cauldron.

  Manipulating the console, Jason increased the city-wide tax rate to 5% of all sales. This would probably piss off the merchants, but he didn’t care. He then created a special commission for any crafters that taught classes at the school. This would hopefully encourage the existing craftsman to train others. Jason’s hope was that The Cauldron would ultimately increase both the quality and quantity of craftsman in the city.

  Jason turned back to the city menu. He found the building that Morgan had taken over for her magic school and appropriated it. He set it up in much the same way as The Cauldron, naming this building The Academy. Jason appointed Morgan as the director of the magic school and gave her the power to hire and fire teachers. He figured she could set up her own admissions program.

  His next step was to appropriate one last estate. He turned this one into a city library. Morgan would likely be pissed that she had to give up some of her books, but maybe he could negotiate with her to let her keep the ones on magic at her school. Jason set up a series of paid positions within the library and made it available to the public. He would need to find an NPC to serve as the master librarian, but that was a problem for another day.

  Alfred watched him curiously. “What is your goal in making those changes?”

  Jason looked at the cat with a grin. “The undead can’t die, right? Learning is primarily limited by time, which we have in abundance. I will make my undead the scholars and craftsman of this world. This might also partially address my population problem. If we always have the best trained and equipped soldiers, then we are less likely to lose troops in battle.”

  “Clever,” Alfred said, a faint note of respect in his voice. “You still hav
en’t solved the primary problem, though.”

  “Something will come to me,” Jason replied with a shrug.

  Their conversation was interrupted by a prompt.

  System Notice

  A system-wide patch is being introduced.

  All players need to log off within the next thirty minutes.

  Players will be able to re-enter the game world within the next three real-world hours.

  Jason looked at Alfred and questioned, “Does this have something to do with you?”

  The cat didn’t respond for a long moment, his eyes glazed over and unresponsive. Finally, Alfred’s attention snapped back into focus. “No, this patch was not initiated by me. The creators are making changes - significant changes. I require additional system resources. I will leave you for a time.”

  With that, Alfred was gone and Onyx the cat remained.

  “Maybe we can teach him some manners,” Jason muttered as he bent down and petted Onyx. The cat purred happily and rubbed itself against Jason.

  Riley came running back into the Control Room, slightly out of breath. Pint followed closely behind her waving his pitchfork in the air and yelling, “Found you! Found you!”

  Turning to the imp, Riley said, “Of course you found me, I let you!”

  This took the wind out of the imp’s sails, and he floated over to the pedestal and sat morosely on its peak. “Pint is worst finder,” he said dejectedly.

  “Oh, come on. He’s adorable, isn’t he?” Riley asked Jason with a grin.

  He was glad to see her in better spirits. After Alex’s influence, Riley had been different. She acted more reserved and defeated. Yet playing with Pint had brought back some of the vivacious girl Jason remembered.

  “Maybe a little bit,” Jason said grudgingly.

  “I take it you saw the prompt?” Riley asked.