by Natalie Grey
“Oooooooh.” Ushanas had logged in. “Look who’s got a social life.” He made jazz hands for emphasis.
“I know, right?” Gracie shook her head. “Lame. So, what do you say we go do some random-ass questing?”
“Sounds good,” Chowder agreed.
“I think we should bat around names for a guild,” Kevin objected. “Because we should definitely be a guild now.”
“Red Squadron,” Alan suggested. When everyone looked at him, he waved his hands. “You know…‘They came from behind!’”
“Ohhhh.” Gracie considered. “Wouldn’t that make us the TIE Fighters, though?”
“Oh, shit.” Alan shrugged. “That was all of my ideas. Who else has one?”
“We’ll come up with something,” Lakhesis said sagely. “I say we brainstorm while smashing faces.”
“Now you’re talking.” Gracie hefted her sword. “Follow me, y’all. We have monsters to kill.”
Most of the team had gone home when the phone dinged. The screen lit up, and Dan leaned over to look at the alert. His face didn’t change as he read it.
But it didn’t need to. Dhruv had known him for a long time, and he knew when Dan was happy about something.
“Well?” Dhruv asked. He’d been slouching in a chair, bouncing a ball off the floor and the wall and back to himself. He threw it again, caught it, and looked over.
Dan settled back in his chair. “They took the bait.”
Dhruv raised an eyebrow. “So now…”
“Now we pretend to be Harry.” Dan smiled at last, although it wasn’t precisely a happy smile. “We have plenty to work with, after all. And they’ll lead us right to all the pieces of the quest we couldn’t find before.” He caught sight of Dhruv’s expression. “What?”
“It’s risky relying on them to lead us to it,” Dhruv said. “In order for him to find more, he’ll be playing. Which means she’ll be playing. Which means—”
“They’ll be doing it anyway,” Dan said, tight-lipped. “And you haven’t made any progress, have you?”
Dhruv fell silent, his expression ugly.
Dan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s risky,” he admitted. “We’re driving them right toward the quest line. But chances are that they’d do it anyway, and I want to keep an eye on them.”
“You’re putting a clock on it,” Dhruv said. He kept bouncing the ball, not looking at Dan. “You realize that, don’t you? Because we have no idea how many more levels she has, and if she finishes the quest—”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Dhruv stood up finally. “Because you’re playing around like you don’t. If she finishes that quest…” He leaned over the desk. “Odds are we’re going to have to nuke the entire game—or let her be whatever Harry’s made her into. Which, as far as I can tell, is going to be some sort of fucking demigod. If you don’t pull this off, she’ll be running Metamorphosis.”
Author Notes - Natalie Grey
March 4, 2019
Thank you so much for reading You Need a Bigger Sword! I know Michael had been thinking about a GameLit story for quite a while, and I had enjoyed the genre, but hadn’t been brave enough to dip a toe in. As per usual with our joint projects, it was Michael who got me to take a running leap off the cliff and build wings on the way down, and I’m so glad he did.
At the start, we didn’t know much about the setting of our story. There was one thing, though, that I knew had to be involved. No one bats an eye when you talk about how books inspired you, or gave you courage, or made you see the world differently, or even helped you make friends.
But when you say you got those things from video games, people look at you like you’re crazy.
And that’s bonkers, because I’ve gotten all that and more from video games. Clear communication, learning what’s in my lane and how my role interacts with other people’s, thinking on my feet, resource management, absolutely useful skills. And, more than that, I’ve had both social and non-social testing grounds for exploring conflict, finding my moral boundaries (“Stand amongst the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. Their silence is your answer”), and understanding stories in a completely different way.
Those of you who aren’t familiar with my alter ego, Moira, may not realize I’ve also been writing a video game recently - City of the Shroud, a multi-chapter RPG that adapts according to the choices of the player base. That experience, as well as the games I’ve played and adored, has influenced my part of this story in innumerable ways.
So thank you to Michael for asking me to collaborate on this series. Thank you to J, for introducing me to WoW. Thank you to A, B, K, V, and W for playing with me. Thank you to B, J, K, and A for playing FFXIV with me. Thank you to B for getting me to try Journey, which would help me dip my toe in the console world. Thank you to H and A for geeking out about Dragon Age and pushing me to play Mass Effect (which then ripped my heart out). Thank you to the writers, artists, composers, and game designers on multiple Final Fantasy games, Halo, Hearthstone, and so many more games. There have been times when the courage I found in these stories was what kept me going.
And above all, thank you to the readers. Books are a conversation. What we found in creating this story will not be exactly what you find in reading it. I hope you come out of this appreciating the social aspects of gaming, and the power of being able to learn about your own morality and strength, but I also know you’ll come away with thoughts and conclusions we couldn’t anticipate, and that’s awesome.
To B and L, you make each day wonderful.
-Nat
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
March 5, 2019
THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.
(I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)
RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?
Ok, here is where I admit I have been trying to find the right collaborator(s) to work in the GameLit and LitRPG genre for a while. ALSO trying to figure out what the @#%@#% is the difference between the two.
Oh, and crunchy? Yes, that’s a thing.
Before I go further, I want to thank:
Dakota Krout—Divine Dungeon is what I read first, then Ritualist (you owe us the next book - so stop reading and write faster) and for making me appreciate a dungeon core (heart?) story.
James Hunter—Viridian Gate Online - (I’m jealous of your narrator’s ability) Thank you for being willing to chat to stupid times of the night about this genre and giving me your opinions of what is making fans love these types of books, and what drives them gob-stopping nuts.
Aleron Kong—For taking the time to explain to me what it meant exactly to be LitRPG - and not making me feel completely foolish when I asked you stupid questions
Aaron Crash—For being the physically funniest author I have been around as we chat GameLit. You help me realize I’m ok.
(Yes, Aaron, there is a compliment in there for you.)
Before I get to my collaborator, I want to also think Danielle and Jeanette for supporting their spouses and being ok when I take their time and we geek out on ostensibly stupid stuff for incredibly reasonable reasons or reasonable stuff for incredibly stupid reasons.
Whether it is with scorpion stories (SHEILA!) or whatever bullshit we get up to.
I’d like to sincerely thank Natalie Grey for allowing me to argue, cajole, and encourage her as we created our first GameLit series. When we discussed this story, I wanted to capture something (we both I believe) have an interest, and we wanted to express for our generations (she is younger than I am) that…
Games, especially MMORPG and similar ones are a way for normally shy or introverted people to get a chance to meet others from around the world.
Games are a way to escape the stress and pressure that today’s society brings us, and they allow us to release our frustrations upon the hapless kobolds or orcs (or huma
ns, you Horde people), since carrying around a twenty-pound chunk of steel is usually frowned upon in polite society.
Games allow us to socialize with someone next to you, next door, some other state, or in even a country across the world.
And kill them for loot and plunder. Hopefully, they don’t camp on your spawn point and grief the hell out of you.
Looking at you FarCry001Zedbot.
Further, one thing I wanted to convey in our story is that we (gamers) have been helped by people we’ve never met, at an emotional level through this powerful medium known as gaming.
So, all of those who decry gaming as evil (should they ever read our books) might see how gaming has changed lives, and often for the better.
I know it’s changed mine.
I’m reminded of the Friday nights we system-linked our XBOX consoles together and sniped the hell out of each other playing Halo: Combat Evolved….
Damn, good times.
Until my then-eight-year-old sons kicked my ass at Starcraft II. It was at that moment I figured out it was time to (perhaps) hang up my XBOX Duke controller and mouse.
Or ground him from playing video games until he lost his preternaturally quick hand-eye coordination.
I couldn’t do that, so I’ve stayed farther and farther away from video games and taken on writing (eventually) as a career.
I don’t live in a home with enough room right now, but when I do, I’m buying that 75” or larger flat screen, a Microsoft XBOX, Sony Playstation, and a sound system to upset my neighbors and get back into it.
Until then, I have to enjoy living vicariously through stories that bring my early love of games back into my life.
Like right now I’m reading Eric Ugland’s One More Last Time and it has brought a smile to my face.
For those who love game-integrated stories, I raise my flagon of root beer in your direction and yell a hearty GAME ON!
You might take the games out of my life for a time, but gaming is in my blood, and I’m happy as hell to be creating stories where games are a part of the character’s life.
Like they have been to me since PONG.
Yes, I am that old, don’t judge me ;-)
So, To Natalie Grey, I raise my virtual game controller in your direction. You built a story beyond my hopes, and I’m damned proud to have my name on this cover with you.
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Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
The New Queen Rises
Metamorphosis Online Book Two
Chapter One
Gracie watched, dumbstruck, as her friend touched a finger to his lips. Not half an hour into the game and the effort with her band had already gone sideways.
“Man, I don’t know.” Chowder spun around slowly, muscles rippling beneath his gray-green skin. He looked over his shoulder and into the mirror before sticking his butt out and bending over to touch his toes, his back arched.
When he came up, he ran his hands through his thinning hair and then dropped his head back, striking a pose with his chest stuck out.
“Be honest, guys. Does this tabard make my ass look big?”
Gracie dropped her face into her hands and shook with helpless laughter.
Their team, fresh off the decision to start a formal guild, had decided to make their tabards together. It had been a unanimous vote to have Chowder model it while they chose, the Ocru male being best described as “gloriously ugly,” and he was hamming it up big time.
For instance, at this particular moment, he was wearing nothing but the tabard.
“I’m going to have to be the voice of reason here,” Kevin stated, his voice coming through the filters as a squeaky female Piskie.
His character crossed her tiny arms and tapped one foot. She was dwarfed by Chowder…and by everyone else, up to and including her amarok, the ice-demon wolf that was her current companion.
Kevin’s character looked at Gracie. “We can’t expect one tabard to suit all of us. It’s the bridesmaids’ dresses problem. Everyone needs a different cut.”
“For instance,” Alex quipped, pointing at the Piskie, “you could wear a handkerchief.” His character was lurking in the corner with his bow slung over his back, a purple-furred panther at his side.
“That’ll be just about enough out of you, Muscles McGee,” Kevin told him severely. “Don’t you think those biceps make you look a little bulky, honey?”
Alex did a flex emote. “Muscle sliders all the way up, baby.”
“Does anyone,” Gracie interjected in a long-suffering voice, “want to offer any input on the actual tabard?”
Chaos ensued.
“No.”
“Nope.”
“I think it should have a vomiting skull sigil.”
“We said no to that already.”
“Just thought someone might have changed their mind.”
“Not in a million years.”
“Ok, but some clan is going to have a vomiting skull, and I’m going to be pointing to it and raising an eyebrow.”
“Not going to worry…”
Gracie looked around as everyone kept talking. Finally, putting up a hand, she interrupted, “I mean it, guys. Keep being smart-alecky, and you’ll wind up with something olive green, which doesn’t go with anything in anyone’s wardrobe ever.”
“Oooh, camo,” Alan cooed. His character twirled, her blonde hair flying out around her head. “That would…look terrible with these robes.”
“I will dress you all in olive green burlap sacks,” Gracie threatened.
“That would probably suit me, actually,” Chowder chimed in. “Especially if I could put it over my head.”
“With no pants, that would be a particularly interesting look,” Lakhesis muttered.
Everyone burst out laughing.
“As someone whose head is around groin level,” Kevin looked up at Gracie, a pleading emote on his character’s face, “please don’t do that.”
“Guys,” Gracie said a bit desperately, laughing despite herself. “The tabard! Honest to God. Someone weigh in on the damned color!”
Alan sighed, taking pity on her. “Red, obviously. No one’s come up with a better name than Red Squadron, so we should go with that.”
Gracie moved the slider over to the reds and had people weigh in until she selected a faded shade, something that reminded her of the scrappy, battered aesthetic of the Resistance.
“What about a V?” Kevin suggested for the sigil. “For Red Five.”
“I like that.” Gracie selected it in a very pale gray, and everyone stared at it for a few moments.
They all laughed when Chowder’s armor reappeared.
“I know you weren’t actually staring at my naked body, as perfect as it is in real life,” the Ocru said, “but it still felt weird to have everyone looking.”
“Says the guy who did the whole burlesque show,” Gracie replied affectionately. “I live in Vegas, man, and even I’ve never seen some of those moves.”
“Hey, I could come to Vegas and be a stripper!” Chowder gave them all a double thumbs-up. “Women like super-skinny guys who can’t dance, right?” He looked around. “Right?”
“Who knows?” Kevin shrugged. “Lots of guys like skinny, though.”
“Gay guys have all the luck,” Chowder muttered.
“Well, that’s just not accurate,” Kevin added.
Gracie shook her head and chuckled as she paid for the tabard, handing glittering gold coins over to a very lifelike shopkeeper. The whole st
ore was everything one would expect of a fantasy world, from the flickering candlelight—that somehow wasn’t too dim to see by—to the bolts of cloth hovering magically in midair along one wall.
Everywhere Gracie looked, there were little details to revel in. A mouse ran along one wall, smudges and dents showed on the heavy wooden counter, and music filtered in from the street. Metamorphosis Online was one of the most immersive places she had ever been, a world so realistic that sometimes she almost felt like she could smell the street food and the smoke from the braziers at each corner.
Of course, the whole effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that the game’s creators hated her guts.
But she was trying not to think about that right now.
A moment later, the guild’s founding members burst into cheers as they found themselves dressed in the new tabard. Alan’s character looked tiny and delicate, her golden hair and flushed skin adorably set off by the red, and Lakhesis spun around twice to admire the way the cloth lay over her plate armor.
“Love this,” she said in satisfaction.
“All hail Red Squadron,” Gracie called, forcing a smile. She really wished she hadn’t thought about the game developers, but what was done, was done. “So, what should we do, now that we all look so snazzy?”
“Somehow I sense you’re not talking about walking around town all dressed up, letting people bask in our glow,” Kevin picked a bit of non-existent lint off his tabard, “and I want you to know I think that’s a mistake. This thing is nice, and I don’t want to get blood all over it.”
“You’re not a melee fighter,” Lakhesis pointed out, “so if you get blood all over you, someone else isn’t doing their job.”
“Still.”
“I know where we could go,” a new voice said.
