by Mars Dorian
Range: X
Armor: XXX
Mobility: XXXX
They were basically stealth assassins, dealing high damage against single targets, especially when attacking from behind or flanking units. They could sneak up, blend with the environment thanks to their tech coats and cause a variety of paralyzing status effects. Decent mobility and medium armor, but I didn’t like the playing style.
Rangers functioned as long-range shooters using projectile-based weapons and could specialize as scouts, snipers, and shock troopers, amongst other sub-classes.
Range: XXXXX
Armor: XX
Mobility: XXX
A good class when teamed up with close-ranged melee tanks and damage dealers since they only wore medium armor.
But after all the research I had done in my offline time, I became obsessed with one particular class which I hadn’t seen in any virtual reality RPG. A new class that strangely showed similarities with my last job, apart from the military aspects of course.
The War Technician, or WarTech, for short.
A well-armored, all-round fighter who specialized in mechanical trickery to help him fight fiends. The WarTech could specialize as a trapper, demolitionist, and armored tech with impressive defensive and offensive abilities but low mobility and high reliance on special items. He worked best in mid-range.
Range: XXX
Armor: XXXXX
Mobility: X
If souls existed, mine would have cheered at the WarTech. The perfect one person army. The class that seemed to be tailored toward me. Granted, the WarTech required finesse and counted as the most versatile and challenging unit to play, but the more I thought about it, the more the WarTech sounded like a calling. Plus, he could use a variety of gear and wear heavy armor like the Lancer.
So I finally did it.
I selected the War Technician class with a voice command.
The menu warned me one last time.
“Are you sure? The selection is permanent.”
Man, my heart pounded, ready to burst through my chest, but I had slept over this decision. Every cell of my body screamed yes, yes, yes, so I confirmed. The printer produced technical tattoo stripes, called tech tats, which I applied to my avatar’s arms, legs, and chest. A confirmation jingle tingled my ears as the 180 degree character screen added a whole new skill menu. Adaptive letters showcased ‘WarTech Lvl 5’, with my core skill unlocked:
The Machine Spirit. Your love and expertise for technology gives you advantages with manmade objects. Developing this core skill will allow you to…
inflict additional damage and range with charges, explodas, and traps, as well as mechanized light and heavy melee weapons
disarm mechanical traps and charges
access class-specific weapons and tools, e.g. the harpoon, heavy motorized weapons, adaptive armor
operate crafts and heavy machinery
Seriously, the list just went on and on. I invested 2 points in the machine spirit skill.
From now on, I could use low-level appliances and light tech melee and ranged weapons. Thank God I kept my skill points from Level 4. With my new class ready, I hit the hallways and wanted to jump for joy. No more vanilla playing. It was time to specialize and train my unique skills until I reached mastery. I didn’t know whether I wanted to specialize as a trapper, demolitionist, armored tech, or one of the newer subclasses, but that choice came only at the later levels, so I had more time to experiment with playing styles.
In the Academy’s player hub, the crowds buzzed around. More players with classes showed up, or maybe I just noticed them. I aimed straight for the quest board when Rokkit crossed my path. This guy always remained online, and he loved picking on me. I was almost going to greet him when his eyes bypassed mine. Rokkit either ignored me or didn’t recognize me. He stopped midway through his walk and turned his red-haired, scarred face toward me, his eyes filled with bewilderment.
“Boltzmann, is that you?”
“Version two point oh,” I said with a tinge of pride.
“You chose WarTech? Of all the players, YOU chose one of the hardest classes to play?”
He seemed genuinely flabbergasted, which surprised me. Was this the same Rokkit from before or had a younger family member overtaken his player account? He acted so out of character.
“You really want to die the second you enter the field mission, don’t you?”
Nope, he was still the old Rokkit I had loathed from before. His smug smile proved it.
“You do realize the field mission’s permadeath, so your die-five-times-a-day tactic won’t work anymore.”
One of his team players laughed, a Ranger type.
“I wasn’t failing, I was testing my boundaries. The multi-billionaire founder of the biggest social network of the world once said ‘fail forward fast’ so I followed his advice.”
Rokkit grinned on. “Quotes won’t save you, Boltzmann; tactics and skill do.”
I didn’t see L’ocean around, she had probably gone offline a while ago and continued her life in reality, wherever it played. I wondered what she looked like, and where she worked at. Meanwhile, Rokkit stood in front of me like a probation officer, investigating my every response.
“So you’re a Lancer now,” I said to him, hoping to find a middle-ground. “Any ideas about specialization?”
To my surprise, he actually answered my question without snark. “Nah, we’re just about to join our field mission. It’s about time we snap our S-ranks and tread into the real adventures of Fourlando. I’m tired of tutorials.”
S-Rank? That was the elite ranking, the grade above A which every player aspired to get. I shouldn’t have been surprised—Rokkit acted as cocky as ever. I wondered why he even bothered talking to me, a Level 5 player ‘bound to bite the digital dust’, as he lovingly had coined.
“Surprise me, Boltzmann. Show me your real potential.”
I saluted him goodbye and picked up a ridiculous idea. What if I could join the same field mission as Rokkit and L’ocean? They outranked me, but every class starting from Level 5 could join the field mission. Who knew? I could even end up on their team because NPC teachers set up the squad roster based on player diversity. And since Rokkit functioned as a Lancer and L’ocean as TechMage, a WarTech was a possible fit to complement the party.
A crazy and ambitious idea for sure, but my passion was ignited. After buying some standard potions from one of the many Academy shops, I took the plunge.
23
I decided to join the graduation class. The final field mission before I could venture into the continent of Fourlando, making my digital mark on the world map and looking for sponsors. Or vanish into the database as a low-ranking character, never to be mentioned again. The pressure pushed me, but I couldn’t train forever in the safe zone of the academic perimeter. The whole point was to learn the quirks of the game so the real missions could be tackled. This WarTech was ready to take names.
I hurried toward the mission briefing room in the strategy and tactics section of the Academy. The in-game clock showed 8:05 a.m., so I had already missed five minutes of class. No more delays, no more postponing.
I found the right room and tumbled inside. The mission master, an NPC teacher of the Academy, explained the details of the field operation. My eyes shifted across the audience—I found dozens of players in my level range and above. TechMages, Rangers, Lancers, Stalkers, and even a few WarTechs, although they remained the least used class. A part of me worried whether I had committed a mistake picking the class, but the gravity of the situation made me push the thought into the hinterlands of my mind.
L’ocean, Rokkit, a Ranger, and the usual gambit of elite up-and-comers sat in the audience and watched the briefing. Rokkit frowned at me, L’ocean smiled. I took a mental screenshot of their flabbergasted faces. Lately, I enjoyed surprising my fellow players. Rokkit, of course, had to speak up first. “What in the hex are you doing here, Boltzmann? This isn’t Alcoholi
c Anonymous.”
“I was bored and thought about joining the field mission, you know.”
His character frowned. “You popped the wrong pill, my friend.”
The mission master said, “Cadet Dash has all the requirements to join the mission.”
I embraced the vision of seeing Rokkit’s avatar looking pissed at me. It happened so rarely. The mission master demanded everyone’s attention again. “Let’s return to our mission briefing, shall we?”
She ignored the mumble in the audience.
“An industrialized township named Montobay, located on Norsefalian part of the mainland, is under siege by a renegade faction. The terrorist group has cut all communication and transport to and from the town. Montobay has enjoyed a neutral status under both ruling factions in the past and seeks outside military support to deal with the crisis.”
She paused, maybe for dramatic effect. “Your primary goal is to recapture the town’s communication to reestablish connections. Your secondary goal is to liberate the city from the siege and cease the enemy presence, preferably without collateral damage.”
She showed only city blueprint images from the data crystal. No live footage, which was probably sabotaged by the shutdown of the communication tower. I could already tell this level marked the biggest area in my gaming life so far. Tight, back alley corridors alternated with main roads and central plazas, surely inspired by ancient industrialized European towns. The city connected with the sea and offered an opening to infiltrate the area. The rest of the township was guarded by ginormous walls.
The mission master continued. “This will be a team effort of all participating cadets. We have created four unit squad selections based on your specialization and skill levels.”
I wondered what that selection entailed.
Rokkit moaned from the fourth row in front of me. “Just send me in, Mission Master. I’ll take ‘em all out with my pinky finger.”
Chuckles from the cadets. With Rokkit’s ego ranging from maniac to delusional, I was never sure when he joked or boasted.
“Hubris comes before the headshot,” the mission master said. “Also remember, cadets, this is not a training mission where we provide supervision. You will face real dangers with specialized foes that are trained to kill you.”
Game speak for permanent death. If I committed a stupid mistake like in the training missions, I wouldn’t wake up in the Academy’s infirmary anymore, snapping life potions for free. I’d lose my character, my stats, and my equipment. Tabula rasa all the way. Thanks, but no thanks.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” the cadets shouted.
“Splendid. I will now read out the squad rotations.”
I soon heard my name and smiled endlessly inside. My guesses had been right—the squad selections were based on class variety to ensure every party was evenly balanced. I was assigned to team Gamma, which also included L’ocean, a Ranger called Wu, and of course, the infamous Rokkit. He smirked when I joined his squad. “First you die every freaking tutorial, then you level up like the Aeons on steroids, and now you’re joining our squad.”
I was waiting for his point. Rokkit always had a point, often buried under his biting sentences. “Seriously, Boltzmann, did you game the algorithm?”
I wished my skills were that great. I’d probably still have my real job. “Hard work, learning game mechanics, and trusting in the faith of the Aeons have prepared my path.”
“Faith of the Aeons? You’re reading the game’s backstory too? Get out.”
“I must say I’m impressed,” L’ocean said. “Your character has grown so much over the past week. I almost don’t recognize the old Dash anymore.”
“I had a dark night of the soul, if you know what I mean. Once you get your priorities in order, it’s amazing what you can accomplish.”
She grinned, which was the only answer I needed. To be frank, her existence played a big part in my change, but I wanted to avoid sounding like a needy boy-in-love trope, so I nodded. “It’s great to work alongside you.”
Rokkit rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get on with the mission briefing.” He had updated the information and shared the memo with everyone in the round.
The mission master intervened one last time. “Cadets, collect your equipment and discuss your squad tactics. We will be departing in fifteen minutes from the Academy bay, section five. Latecomers will disqualify instantly. Please don’t make me repeat myself.”
The pressure doubled already, and I hadn’t even been dispatched from the Academy. Tutorial time was officially over. Rokkit, the alpha predator in the group, spotted my nervousness instantly.
“Legs shaking hard from the pressure, I assume. You might want to pop a pill.”
“I call it focused fear. Keeps my senses sharp.”
He rolled his eyes, but I had come too far to fall victim to his tactics.
“We’re dealing with a militarized group, which means ranged weapons, autonomous dart throwers, and armor.”
L’ocean took over. “I suggest using weapons with armor-piercing abilities, as well as explodas that disrupt mechanical units such as turrets and walkers.”
I carried zero explodas, even though my class was allowed to use them. They simply cost too many credits. As always, Rokkit spotted my faults. “Let me guess, you don’t have a single exploda on you.”
All eyes went to me. Before I could stutter an excuse, L’ocean chimed in. “Can you give him one? We need to coordinate our equipment if we want to win as a team.”
I could swear Rokkit ground his teeth, but he finally abided. “One.”
I accepted the trade and received an anti-personnel exploda that could tear through armor. The device weighed quite a lot but offered excellent frag damage, which meant I could take out a group standing close to each other. My chances of survival leveled up. And since my core skill was the Machine Spirit, I would receive +2.5 meter throwing range and +5% damage bonuses. Sweet mother all the way.
“Ten minutes until departure,” Wu, the silent Ranger, said. “We better head toward the bays.”
It was the first time he spoken since the briefing. I didn’t know much about his gaming style, but based on the mechanized bow he had swung around his back, he would probably focus on mid-to-long range assault support.
“Right,” Rokkit said and charged toward the briefing room’s exit. “We don’t want to keep our cannon fodder waiting.”
We hurried to an unknown area of the Academy which I had never even seen.
24
The bay, a facility addition to the Academy complex, connected with the ocean. The facility offered a water route to the beach area of Montobay, our target destination. Four streamlined ship transporters anchored to the landing stages and opened their hatches. With the rest of my new team Gamma, I stepped into my designated carrier and sat down. The interior design looked military, had blue, metal textures, and smelled of corroded iron. Rokkit planted his butt down on the bench directly opposite me, right next to L’ocean. Wu joined my side while the NPC captain took control of the craft. Another NPC acted as a support unit and joined our section.
She updated the pilot. “Ready to go.”
I looked through the slim windows behind my head. All five carriers escaped the landing spots and shot toward the open sea where Fourlando’s sun illuminated the water in mesmerizing red and turquoise tones.
“Target destination in T-minus eight minutes,” the support NPC said.
Rokkit spread his legs and grinned at me, a vicious mix between amusement and self-assurance. “Boltzmann, I’m beginning to believe you’re stalking me. You do realize this is an RPG and not Hentai porn.”
“If this was Hentai porn, it featured the worst adult actors ever.”
Even L’ocean looked at me, but instead of grimacing, Rokkit smiled his trademark grin. “Brash boy. Barely chose your class and already flying high on cloud nine.”
Brash? Said the player who singlehandedly wanted to wipe out
the enemy with his pinky finger. The answer lingered on my tongue, but I wanted to focus on the mission preparation. After all, I didn’t gain experience nor credits by firing snarky remarks at my rivals, although that would have been cool. Seriously, there should have been a wordsmith warrior class.
“According to the briefing, we’re dealing with a military faction with no allegiance,” L’ocean said, redirecting back to the briefing.
“Probably some kind of rebel group hailing from the former Beltar Empire.”
“They keep popping up like mushrooms after a fallout,” Rokkit said. “Hard to keep track of ‘em all.”
I listened to their words. Decades ago, the Beltar Empire had lost the war against the Sunblood Syndicate and broke into dozens of splinter groups. Some groups established autonomous townships, some others became rogue paramilitary factions, trying to restore the old empire. The political map of Fourlando had fractured; apart from the Sunblood Syndicate. These fellas had only grown in unity and strength. Talking about strength—Rokkit showed his muscles, figuratively.
“Since I carry the strongest armor and the most HP, I’ll act as the tank of the squad. L’ocean, you provide support with your de/buffs; Wu, you support our flanks with ranged assaults. Let’s play it smart.”
Rokkit forgot about one member in the party—me.
“What about my role?”
“You’re the official mascot.”
L’ocean elbowed him. Rokkit sighed. “Offensive support. Stay behind me and cover my flanks.”
Pause. “What’s your main weapon?”
“A light melee chopper and an exploda, as well as a cutter.”
Rokkit grimaced. “You’re kidding, right?”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t. “I focused on leveling up and couldn’t find any valuable items yet.”
