Stunlocked

by Black, Shane Lochlann

  “That story you told us about Knights of the Realm was some fucked up shit. That’s for sure,” Dave said.

  “A bunch of hater assholes destroyed three years of work because of their personal opinions. All they had to do was clicky-clicky up enough bad reviews. It’s one thing if you have a legitimate complaint about something, but this was a coordinated act of deliberate vandalism with the stated and pre-planned goal of tanking FUG’s sales,” Jordan added. “In what kind of world are we going to tolerate a couple dozen housebound idiots destroying millions of dollars in value and hundreds of jobs?”

  “Why would anyone listen to them in the first place?” Amy asked.

  “That’s the thing. Maybe nobody is listening, but that doesn’t assuage the risk. If it happened to FUG after all they did right, then other companies see that and get timid. They don’t want to take the risk of a bunch of Frankenstein villagers showing up at their door griping and bitching and witch-hunting them all over the Internet. So they cut back and drain the joy out of everything so they can become a ‘me too’ operation,” Dave said. “When the Internet gave the audience a chance to participate, nobody was prepared for the fact they apparently desired nothing more than a nice wide target for big handfuls of shit.”

  “And Dave’s right,” Jordan added. “They shouldn’t listen, but they do. It’s not having an effect on the players or the customers. It’s affecting the developers. They are unconsciously stopping themselves from trying anything fun. It’s writer’s block enforced by a ‘who can be the biggest jackass’ contest with the entire world trying to win it.”

  “And Wyland’s solution?” Robb asked.

  “I think KNC was designed to feed the bitching back on itself. Wyland didn’t create a world as much as he created tools and wealth, and then he gave them to the gaming community. In the process he is forcing gamers to face their own hate. He didn’t understand why video games in particular cause people to never stop complaining, and frankly, I don’t either. But let’s go back to the game itself. The highest level player in this game just dinged 20. We’ve got 55 levels to go before FUG even thinks about an expansion. What have we accomplished so far in the KNC world?” Jordan replied.

  “Bitching, violence, treachery, destructiveness, more bitching, more violence, people plotting against one another, criminal acts, attempted murder, fraud, arson, war crimes, robbery, genocidal maniacs, poison, cruelty to animals and subterfuge. In other words, human beings doing what they do best: fucking each other over to get more money for themselves,” Robb said.

  “Garrett Wyland gave us all a fresh start in a completely untouched world and gave us the tools to make it a really fun place and what did we do with the opportunity?” Dave said.

  “Clusterfuck,” Robb replied.

  “Same as the first time humanity got a fresh start,” Alyssa muttered.

  “You have to admit, the man has a point,” Robb said. “Remember what he said at Safekeep? ‘I had to get shot on television to generate enough hate to sell this game?' or something like that? You should have seen what he wrote after Knights of the Realm! Here, I have it on my phone.” Robb scrolled through the menu. “Here: ‘When selling your product requires the kind of personality that can walk into a bar, reach into a random customer’s mouth with thumb and forefinger, pull a half-eaten chunk of sandwich out and then throw it at a second customer all in an attempt to get a fight started, your business model is in serious need of reconsideration.’ That’s solid fucking gold right there.”

  “Reminds me of something Fitz said on Kacey’s show,” Dave added. “People don’t want the game. They want the hype. You know, I think he didn’t take it far enough. They don’t want the game, they want the hate.”

  “Word,” Robb said.

  “Wyland’s mission is the only reason I’m still playing this game,” Jordan said. “I’m way past giving a shit about the money now. I’m way past having a cool car and a high-level weapon. We’ve heard part of Garrett’s message. I want to hear the rest. It’s in this game, and I’m going to find it. I think he has a vision for making games fun again. I think he came up with a solution for the hate machine, and I want to know what it is.”

  “Now you’re making me want to play again,” Robb said. “I’m down for that quest. If it even turns the volume down on the bullshit we have to swim through these days, I’m all for it.”

  “Me too.” Alyssa smiled. “Even though I can’t level up any more.”

  “You can now,” Jordan said. “I used my developer account to cancel both our developer statuses. We’re both just players now. No more artificial advantages.”

  “Except the seven million dollars,” Marc pointed out. “And the fact you’re a Founder.”

  “Which you all get a share of by the way,” Jordan said. “I believe the original deal was a five way split, and I already got my car.”

  “And we get the ship?” Dave asked. Alyssa laughed.

  “You want the ship or the money?”

  “How much are you going to sell us the Victory for?” Robb asked. “I’m willing to negotiate.” He lifted his feet up on the arm of the modular couch, put his arms behind his head and reclined on a thick pillow.

  “Forget that,” Amy said. “I’ll take my share like we agreed.”

  “Seconded,” Marc added.

  “How about I rent you the Victory for a dollar a day?” Jordan asked. “And if we win the Sovereign 7GL we’ll sell it and split it five ways too.”

  “Nah, we keep the deal the way it was. If you win the car, give it to Alyssa,” Robb said.

  “Yeah, we’re all millionaires now and she gets left out. That’s not cool.” Dave said.

  Alyssa looked back and forth as the team debated between giving her a two million dollar car or a share of an even larger fortune.

  “I’ll split my portion with her,” Jordan said. “Besides, I’ve got my sights on some valuable in-game stuff. I want to start a shop in my new castle.”

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Robb said, rolling his eyes.

  “What! I’ve got 21 skill points in rope-making now! I can sell that stuff so other would-be naval captains can keep their sails working.”

  “You have $800 million worth of platinum ingots in your castle’s treasure room!” Marc exclaimed. “Who cares about rope?!”

  “An entire world of thrilling adventures await, and there sits Highwayman, hunched over his sewing machine. That’s not going to get made into a movie, son.” Robb said.

  “Is there anything to eat?” Jordan asked, wandering forward of the luxurious living area into the stainless steel first deck galley. “Where’s the food boy?”

  “Food boy!” everyone shouted. Alyssa was only a half-word late this time.

  “Oh yes, whoever delivered this ship made sure to set us up with provisions. There’s enough in that refrigerator to last us two weeks,” Amy said. “Apparently there’s a freezer below decks with even more stuff. Now all we have to do is learn to cook something more complicated than spaghetti or toaster pastries.”

  Jordan opened the floor-to-ceiling refrigerator freezer and spied a half-gallon of Sunshiny Day Gourmet Butter Pecan ice cream. He rifled the utensil bay until he found a pristine silvery tablespoon and then rejoined the group.

  “By the way, your Partner’s Club cards and accounts are in that envelope. $1.56 million each.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. She pounced on the manila envelope and dug around inside it. She pulled four smaller envelopes out. Each contained a black card and account documents.

  “What about our taxes?” Dave asked. Marc laughed.

  “FUG pre-paid them for us,” Jordan said as he scooped up another bite.

  “Bwah?” Marc stammered.

  “Too bad I can’t float the car out here and put it in a shuttle bay or something. We could all sail for southern waters together,” Jordan said as he dug around in the ice cream again.

  “I like your suggestion of splitting up,” Robb said. “It
will throw off the bad guys and it will mean there’s a lot lower chance they’ll take another shot at us. Sounds a little safer for both of us.”

  “At this point the only way they can take a shot at us is to launch an airstrike,” Dave said, taking a cue from Robb and stretching his legs along his own couch.

  “Don’t give them any ideas,” Amy muttered.

  “So what is the plan?” Marc asked again.

  “You have your computers. Victory is equipped with its own data center and PCs in the forward cabin on Deck Two. As long as you stay within five or six miles of major cities, you should have reasonably good Internet access over standard wi-fi using the directional. If you go to open water, you’ll have to settle for the VSAT, which will give you about two megabits symmetrical everywhere but the polar regions,” Jordan replied. “I expect we’ll all be about level 12 by the time you reach Saint Kitts.”

  “So all we do is cruise and play KNC?” Robb asked. “That sounds like a plan I can get behind.”

  “You’ll be picking up a crew in San Diego. Getting down there will be rather simple. Just follow the GPS system and stay at least two miles out. Otherwise she drives like a big car with automatic transmission,” Jordan said. “The basics are on flash cards on the bridge. You got this far so you must have figured it out. Sailboats have the right of way and you don’t have any brakes.”

  “I’ll be quite happy to turn it over to someone who knows what they’re doing,” Robb said. “How many in our crew?”

  “Four. They’re all Jamaican and all former members of a merchant operation out of Saint Kitts. They agreed to crew a trip around the horn in order to avoid a thousand-dollar three-hop airline trip and to get a nice stipend from FUG. You have a captain, engineer, electronics operations technician and a chef.”

  “We have a chef,” Amy said. “That makes me happy.”

  “What about fuel?” Marc asked. “This thing is probably not all that efficient.”

  “The Victory is fuel cell operated with natural gas turbines as backups and a full bank of solar collectors around the upper deck platform.”

  “This isn’t a cruiser. It’s a spaceship!” Robb exclaimed.

  “Any extensive communicating we have to do we can handle in game,” Jordan said. “So the Doncella and I will leave you to it. We’re headed for Texas.”

  “Wait, you still haven’t explained what is so important about Texas,” Amy said.

  “Remember that map we looted I was supposed to mail to myself in game to see if it was fake?” Jordan said. “Well, I did. Then I mailed the map Wyland originally sent me with the Founder’s subscription to my in-game account. Inside the game, the Safekeep location is marked with GPS coordinates. They mark a location somewhere near Amarillo, Texas.”

  “What has you so intrigued about getting down there right away?” Dave asked.

  “Wyland was up to something in Mississippi. He didn’t pick that location by accident. I don’t think he picked the Texas location by accident either.”

  “What makes you think that?” Marc asked.

  “There’s a second level of information in the map he gave me. I don’t know what it is yet, but the original digital attachment wasn’t just a pointer to Safekeep. What I’ve discovered so far leads me to believe Wyland connected three real-world locations. One where the shooting took place, another in Texas, and the third due south in Caribbean waters, with coordinates keyed off Moss Point, Mississippi.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The thing Devin Oliver enjoyed the most about playing Rednar was without question the taunts. They were among his most entertaining abilities and the ones that caused maximum consternation in his opponents, whether they were players or NPCs.

  At the moment, the level 20 hammerman warrior was daring all who could hear his voice to knock him off his coastal perch. A jetty perhaps a hundred yards long rested in the waters just south of the Gorian border. Rednar stood at the far end, shouting over the roar of the sea.

  At the point where the jetty connected with the mainland, there was a natural barrier of treacherous rocks, driftwood and debris collected from the ocean’s relentless breakers. It was there Rednar’s opponents would hesitate, trying to size up their opponent and look for weaknesses. Once they passed the blackened, salt-caked rocks, the fight was on.

  “Show me what valor you wield!” was at the top of the taunt table. Only a few moments earlier, Devin’s mighty armored character had shouted that challenge through the bracing crash of a wave as a Cacai warlord approached. The beast swung an iron bludgeon the size of a refrigerator. When the colossal weapon encountered the hammerman’s thick shield, the sparks that flew threatened to ignite the waves themselves.

  Rednar’s strikes landed like thousand-pound bombs. 391 damage. Critical hit. Opponent defeated. 414 damage. Critical hit. Opponent defeated. 215 damage. Attack partially deflected. 341 damage on the backswing. Opponent defeated. After discovering his opponents carried nothing that could be looted, Rednar rewarded them by heaving each defeated Cacai warrior over the side into the raging waves.

  Then came Oolev, Prince of the Gorian Cliffs and Champion of the Deeps. Rednar could not determine the creature’s level, which meant it had to be at least 21. Oolev was officially a world boss. Technically, he was meant to be tackled by a group of at least five players. At this particular moment in Kings and Conquests history, however, the only player close to this boss’ level was Rednar himself.

  What Devin didn’t know was that Oolev was a level 25 boss with rather considerable bonuses for combat. He was easily half-again as tall and a third heavier than any Cacai Rednar had yet faced. He was armed with an immense barbed hammer not all that dissimilar from Rednar’s. Oolev wore little armor aside from a pair of thick metal bracers. He looked like a cross between a gigantic spider monkey and a crocodile, with the teeth to match.

  Devin cast a nervous glance at his health. 870 points. He was at 100%. He checked to make certain his regenerative enchantment was active. It was. It would heal just over 16 points of damage, or 2% of his total health every five seconds. Normally such an enchantment would make a player immortal under the right circumstances, but Rednar was in a unique spot. At the far end of the jetty, there was no retreat, so he would have no way to buy time for his enchantment to do its beneficial work. Also, since he was dressed out in full battle armor, jumping into the water would turn him from the highest level player in the game to just another level one.

  Swagger had served him well up to this point, so Devin decided to go all out. It was a tremendous risk. A level 20 character with Rednar’s equipment and skill combinations was nigh unto irreplaceable. Devin could easily fetch five figures for his account on the open market without even breaking a sweat. He hit the taunt ability.

  “Who are you to challenge me!?” Rednar’s voice shook pieces of shale and debris from the nearby rock formations. The Cacai Prince hissed, fanged mouth open in a defiant display of hostility. It rushed forward at an unsettling speed, crashing into the hammerman’s shield like a locomotive. Rednar staggered. His feet slipped from under him and a two-second stun timer appeared, but his shield held.

  He had taken 197 damage. His opponent hadn’t even made contact with a weapon.

  Devin activated his Enraged Strike ability right off. It was his most expensive, slowest and most damaging attack. It might have been advisable to save it for a more opportune moment. But in the cut and thrust of what could be a long fight, Rednar needed an early advantage. Properly deployed, his signature ability would govern the tempo and strategy of the entire fight. He came up swinging, his hammer sweeping up from his feet right at the chin of the gigantic warlord.

  A clean miss.

  The Prince of the Gorian Cliffs brought his barbed club down on Rednar’s back. The hammerman’s armor absorbed much of the attack’s power, but did not protect him from the punishment. Another 115 damage registered. Neither of the two attacks were critical hits, but they were painful: Far more damagi
ng than anything Devin’s character had faced up to this point.

  Battles like these were essentially slugfests between two digital battleships. Only three metrics mattered: speed, defense and firepower. It was the classic iron triangle shipbuilders had fought with through two world wars, only to have the entire question rendered moot by the invention of naval air power. Toe to toe, speed wasn’t as important as firepower or defense, but if the battle started covering more ground, speed and the often overlooked factor of endurance would come into play with a renewed vengeance.

  Rednar’s weakness, if there were one easily identified enough to become an advantage for an opponent, was the fact Devin had geared for defense over speed. The level 20 hammerman was capable of a variety of damage, and could take blows that would vaporize a lesser character. He was also wearing more than 200 pounds of dense metal armor and carrying a 60 pound weapon. No matter how strong or how resilient, the man simply couldn’t react quickly to anything.

  The Cacai Prince, on the other hand, had chosen the exact opposite: Speed over defense. The boss design gambled that not getting hit at all was superior to building the melee combat equivalent of a fixed defense. So far, it had worked perfectly. Rednar had been struck twice. The boss hadn’t been touched. The slow, inexorable hot crawl of frustration and rage began to tingle along the back of Devin’s neck. Every moment that passed reminded him he might not be invincible after all.

  Rednar only had about 550 health left. The Cacai Prince hadn’t been damaged at all. Devin shifted to a more defensive strategy, reducing his attack power and damage potential in order to take further advantage of his healing abilities and his character’s renowned talent for soaking up unusually large amounts of damage.