“What?”
“It’s a deal. What do you need me to do?”
“Kill a monster!”
“What kind and where?”
“What kind…what kind…a monstrous one! You leave the village, stay left, and go two miles. Its den is by the swamp.”
“And why can’t you and the other men here take care of him?”
“They’re afraid. They think they’ll fail and even be cursed. There’s an old graveyard there and a ruined castle nearby. Nasty place. Even a cursed wood!”
“Maybe it’s the other way around? A castle with a graveyard nearby?”
“No, my dear sir. The graveyard has always been there—our great-grandfathers are buried there. But the castle’s only been there for four hundred years. Although, sure they built it on an older foundation.”
“Who destroyed this castle?”
“We fought the skeletons two hundred or so years ago, and they laid siege to our old landlord in there. But the undead came at the castle—experienced warriors who knew the place. Skeletons and their masters, all skeletons, too. With crowns, and glowing candles for eyes. And enormous swords.”
“Leeches?”
“How should I know? Probably. But the warriors were good, even if they didn’t have any meat on them—all bones. They took the castle. The landlord didn’t want to become a zombie, so he used some kind of magic and—poof, he, his family, and his warriors were in the afterlife, the skeletons were piles of bones, and the castle was in ruins. And the village didn’t have a landlord anymore. It was odd at first—my grandfather told me, and his grandfather told him. But they liked it! Later on, of course, some cousin of the landlord came and told everyone he was taking charge. But then one night he went for a walk in the marsh for some reason…”
“And?”
“And anyone who goes for a walk in the marsh at night is completely taken over by the power of evil… Probably drowned… Or somebody ate him. My grandfather told me something was howling that night fit to burst… Maybe 240?”
“250. And some food.”
“Fine. As soon as you bring us that thing’s head, I’ll write the receipt, and you’ll get your money. Okay?”
You have a new quest offer: Kill the Swamp Beast.
Task: Kill the monster near the swamp and bring its head to the old man.
Reward:
250 gold
1000 experience
Accept?
Needless to say, I accepted.
“Okay. What’s the receipt for?”
“Once a month, someone comes from the city, from Fladridge, to collect taxes, so he needs a report—who paid who what, if they needed to pay for something.”
“Taxes?”
“In life, you always have to pay someone something. We’re no different. We pay Fladridge, but if we have a problem, they help us. For example, two years ago, there was a bad harvest after some witches wove a herb wolf into the field and the wheat rotted. They sent us that, um…human-kind aid. Food, sugar, salt.”
“Humanitarian.”
“What?”
“It’s humanitarian aid. It means they sent it out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“Oh, right, right,” the old man nodded. “That’s what I’m saying; they’re good people. And we pay them taxes like we’re supposed to. They left us money so we could hire one of you passers-by in case we have a problem. But we have to have a receipt: so-and-so gave so much, so-and-so got so much. So, we’ll write the receipt as soon as you kill the beast.”
“Sounds good! Hey, maybe someone else needs help around here?”
“Of course!” And the old man told me about all the settlement’s problems.
Soon, I had a quest from the blacksmith to collect 20 goblin arrowheads, while a heavy-set woman from the local tavern needed me to bring her five boar legs—five left forelegs, to be exact. She must have told me five times, “Left fore, my dear. Don’t forget! I’ll be sure to have something to thank you with!” She winked coquettishly after that last part.
Given the fact that she weighed more than I did, my capsule, and Mammoth breathing down my neck put together, I had to wonder if going through with that was worth it. She’d crush me… She wasn’t a tank, so you couldn’t just heave a grenade under there—tanks weren’t as dangerous. But my fears were unfounded. It turned out the APC of a woman wanted to give me experience, money, and three days’ worth of dry rations in exchange for those left forelegs. The old man sent me some food, too, so I was set.
A local shepherd also needed me to find a lost cow and let him know where the poor guy was. Happily, that was it; I didn’t need to bring it back myself.
That was all the people I could find in the village with problems, so I set off quickly for the gates. I figured, as any normal person would, that the faster I got started, the faster I’d finish.
Just like in Aegan, the Tocbridge forest began right outside the gate. The only difference was that roads led away from Aegan, while all Tocbridge had were some narrow paths. When I was about a hundred strides from the village, I opened my map and checked the status of my quests. The Fayroll developers had made things easy for players. Zones with quest monsters or items blinked red on the map. Their exact location, of course, wasn’t shown, but the blinking zone wasn’t that big—five hundred meters or so in diameter. It was much better than in other games, where you were supposed to get a horn from some hairy, seven-legged creature, but they didn’t tell you where the thing was or show it on the map. So, you were left wandering around the whole game hoping you’d come across it. Here they gave you a marker.
The closest blinking area was very close, just a few steps away. And, by all appearances, it was the goblin arrowheads. Probably with goblins to go with them. I left the path and moved stealthily (I thought) between the birches and pines.
“Human!” a squeaky voice rang out. “Goblins see human! Goblins love to eat human! Human is delicious! Goblins love to crunch human!”
Suddenly, I took 20 damage, so that must have come from somewhere… About five meters away, stood a short, green, round-eyed thing, and he was again pulling back his bow.
“Goblins will eat human. Human and frog eggs—together more fun and tastier!”
I leaped toward him, leaning away from the arrow he loosed at me from almost point-blank range, and laid into him with my mace. The goblin apparently wasn’t that strong, as his health turned immediately red. My next blow drew a long wail and finished him off!
He yielded a few copper coins, a piece of dirty cloth, and three arrowheads.
You have 17 more arrowheads left to collect before you can complete the quest.
“That was Khryk yelling. He said there’s good food around, but it’s still kicking.” I heard a voice say, and a group of five goblins jumped at me from the surrounding trees.
“Yeah, good food!” they gibbered as they rushed me. “Juicy, tasty food! Khryk not lie!”
“It kill Khryk!”
“Okay, then we eat it longer than with Khryk! And then we eat Khryk! Kill him!”
Three of them ran at me waving axes. Two began quickly unslinging bows.
“Phew, boy! They’re easy to kill, but there are five of them. Better hurry!”
I met the first goblin with a blow from my mace that took off half his health. Dodging his rusty sword, my next strike found the second goblin for a similar result. The no less rusted saber of the third clanged off my breastplate, and my return swing took his health into the critical zone. Apparently, my item bonuses kicked in.
The first arrows smacked into me, but I wasn’t worried anymore. It looked like I wouldn’t have a problem finishing off the five goblins. A few more blows took care of the first three gluttons, freeing me to charge the archers.
“Not bad. Not terribly strong, and not terribly smart,” I mused as I stripped the dead goblins. My collection of arrowheads (12 of 20) and swords (three of 10) was growing.
“Hey, goblins!” I thundere
d. “Good food here! Come on!”
Somewhere, in the bushes, I heard a rustling. “Food-food-food.” The goblins were hurrying to feed.
The next half hour was spent polishing off one short bugger after another. They ran up in groups of three to five, saying, “M-m-m! Juicy food! Goblins love swallow human!” Their headlong charge was broken only by my friendly smile and welcoming mace.
In the space of that 30 minutes, I finished the blacksmith’s quest as well as my class ability quest, watched my pile of copper coins grow, collected an enormous amount of goblin trash (rags, buttons, buckles, half a window shutter…), and even got some things for archery. I would have stopped killing goblins there, but I was close to the next level. A bit longer and there it was.
As soon as I leveled-up, I jumped behind a tree and headed for the path to the village.
The goblins were eternally hungry, but they had no desire to stray very far, so none of them ran after me. I heard them poking around the area, “Khrym not alive! Gryk, too! Where food that kill them?”
I quietly walked out into the clearing and headed for the forest to finish the blacksmith’s quest. No point in waiting. After that, I would go see what I should do about that monster. Oh, and I wanted to check out the graveyard and the castle. I was curious, and maybe I’d find something interesting
Chapter Eight
In and Out of the Forest
The blacksmith was surprised.
“That was fast! You’re obviously quite the warrior. And the arrowheads are perfect! Here’s your reward.”
You completed a quest: Disarm the Goblins.
Reward:
800 experience
35 silver coins
20% discount on smithy services in Tocbridge
+8% friendship shown toward you by the residents of Tocbridge
“Wow!” I was excited. “So much right away.”
“Just like we agreed,” the blacksmith reasonably observed.
“By the way,” I addressed him once more as he looked over the arrowheads I’d brought, “who can I sell things to around here? I have some stuff I got from the goblins, and I don’t feel like carrying it around.”
“Talk to Shindlik Torgash,” he responded quickly. “He’s a complete goon, and he’ll squeeze you for every copper coin he can, but he pays in real coin, and he pays right away. His stand is right behind that house over there. If you have anything metal, like swords or armor, I might be willing to take it off your hands.”
I unloaded everything I had onto the counter.
“Pick what you want, well, if there even is anything you want, obviously.”
The blacksmith quickly dug through the pile of goblin junk, picking out a few items and placing them on the side.
“I’ll take all of this,” he said five minutes later. His finger jabbed toward a small pile of sword fragments, buttons, and some other metal goods. “I’ll give you 40 silver coins.”
“You’d only give me 40 coins for this pile of art-house treasure and vintage finery?” My grandmother’s voice rang in my head, “You have to haggle. Always haggle. Otherwise, they won’t respect you.”
“For this assembly of rare goblin goods—only 40 silver coins? No-o-o-o, my friend. I’m better off hanging onto it if—”
“I hope you get cholera,” the blacksmith interrupted. “Fifty, and that’s it. And no more haggling.”
“Fifty it is then,” I agreed, sweeping the rest of the pile back into my bag. I pocketed my 50 silver coins and went off to find Shindlik—to haggle some more.
My purse was in pretty decent shape. On the one hand, having more than 100 gold wasn’t bad for someone who’d been playing the game for less than a week. On the other, that still wasn’t enough to buy anything nice. It was enough for some potions, food, or maybe the plainest equipment out there, though I’d have to find a vendor; I still didn’t have enough to go shopping at the auction. Then again, I wasn’t too concerned about money. I could always spend real cash at the auction if I had to (though I couldn’t think of what could possibly prompt me to do that).
Oh, and the monetary system in Fayroll was as simple as it gets:
One gold was worth 100 silver coins.
One silver coin was worth 100 copper coins.
One copper coin, well, was one copper coin. They didn’t have any half-coins or anything like that. And money was converted automatically, so the pile of copper I collected from the ravenous goblins turned into a pair of good-looking silver coins.
And the line between real and virtual money was fine, if clearly felt. Each player could support himself using real money, though there was a limit—$5000 for each account—or the local equivalent, of course. You could invest that amount in your player at once, later, or gradually. You could buy armor, weapons, scrolls. But as soon as you hit that amount, you couldn’t add any more. All further extravagance had to be financed by in-game money—the kind you earned in the game. And if you deleted your character and started a new one, the only money you could spend on it was what you had left under the cap. The only thing you could do if you didn’t want to put in the work was open a new account. Lots of people, incidentally, did just that.
The only exception was spending money on decorations. For example, you could pay to make your sword look like Conan the Barbarian’s. It would look impressive and imposing, but the attributes wouldn’t change in the least. Or, alternatively, you could decorate the hell out of your hotel room, hanging works of art all over the walls. That didn’t get you anything, but it looked nice. The company made that compromise to please their more aesthetically minded gamers, though there were special conditions, and you had to sign an additional agreement.
Sure, there were attempts to scam people on the black market or poke holes in the code, but none of them ended well for the people involved. The developers turned a blind eye to people selling in-game items for real money and transferring that money to outside accounts, as they might have even had a hand in that pot as well. But attempts to bring unauthorized money into the game were too much for them given the serious problems they could face under money laundering laws. And that could have implications for their gaming license. So anyone operating in the shadows knew Fayroll was a one-way street.
Really, I was surprised by how counter-intuitive the whole thing was. Usually, everything was the other way around—game developers wanted you to pour money into their games. It would have been interesting to sit down with the Fayroll developers and ask them what their reasoning was.
Shindlik turned out to be an unusually stingy and shrewd little halfling who bargained for every copper coin he could get. And when, on the verge of righteous wrath, he pulled a healthy chunk of hair out of his scalp and accused me of wanting to see his family starve, it became crystal clear that he wasn’t going to give in. I gave him the rest of my junk, pocketed his 25 silver coins, and headed for the village gate. I still had a cow to find and a graveyard to visit. Oh, and the woods… What was it? Right, there was a monster by the swamp that I needed to kill.
The map showed me that the cow just happened to be moving toward the very same swamp. The blinking quest area on the map was moving quickly toward the east in its direction.
“I’d better hurry,” I decided. “That monster can’t eat the cow, or the quest would be over. I assume.”
After sprinting down the path for a few kilometers, I pulled out my map again and realized I needed to cut into the forest; the swamp was perpendicular to my location. A hundred meters in, I decided to make sure there weren’t any goblins around.
“Hey, tasty food is here!” I shouted loudly. “Juicy, crunchy food here!”
Nothing. I couldn’t hear anyone crashing through the bushes, drooling as they ran.
“Good thing,” I said, and kept going without worrying too much about stealth.
A kilometer and a half or so later, I noticed the landscape changing. Tall pines were replaced by birches and firs. The grass under my feet was thicke
r—the swamp was obviously nearby.
“Good job by the designers!” I was impressed. “Just like in real life.”
I opened my map again to see that the cow was nearby. And so was the monster.
“He’s going to eat it!” I quickened my pace.
A couple minutes later, I heard a scared moo, or at least a moo that was as scared as moos can be, and some cracking. Someone was breaking through the birches. Of course, it was the cow, and we broke into a small clearing at the same time from opposite sides. It jumped toward me once I caught its eye, amusingly flaunting its hooves.
“Mo-o-o,” it said again. But in that “mo-o-o,” I thought I heard something like “mo-o-onsters everywhere, almost ate me!”
And there was a reason for that. Just behind the cow, the monster itself rushed into the clearing. It was a disgusting beast, and the programmers were obviously suffering from a hangover or were just in a bad mood when they thought it up.
It was Level 20, and it had six legs, a scorpion tail, a chitin body, two pincers, compound eyes, and mandibles to round out the picture. Some mix of a fly, a crayfish, a spider, and a scorpion. Above its head were blue letters:
“Burrig—quest monster”
Ooh, a beast from the quest. With its own name! The monsters in Fayroll were both diverse and straightforward. Bots were divided into:
Usual—your different types of goblins, harpies, wolves, specters, robbers, and other types of evil spirits, undead, and even humanoid races. They made up 95 percent of the bot enemies players dealt with.
Quest—opponents created especially for quests. There were both named and unnamed quest monsters, though the named ones gave you a much better chance of finding a good item than their unnamed friends. On the other hand, they were also much more dangerous.
Leaders—a rare type of named monster endowed with remarkable physical or even magical power. They always gave you good things, though killing them was a nightmare. And you couldn’t just go looking for them since they only appeared randomly at locations with the right level.
Dungeon masters—formidable foes. Generally speaking, they were the last monsters you dealt with in dungeons, and they were the fastest, most devious, and most dangerous ones in there. The players called them bosses.
More Than a Game Page 11
