by Aaron Jay
“And how does this help save me from a lifetime of toiling for the Eastmans? I have my share of pride and maybe the next guy’s too but I want your help. Anything?” I got up out of my chair and leaned over his desk to remind him that this wasn’t just a theoretical exercise.
He puffed out a sigh. “Anything? You must proceed with intelligence informed by experience. That is all you can do. I am constrained by circumstance. I will do what I can, such as it is. I hope that you understand that what I can do from here is not all that I would wish. Forgive me.”
And then my father did something he never did in VR. He got up, came around the desk and embraced me. It shocked me. More than anything thus far, this let me know how much trouble I was facing. I had been living on my own for years, but some part of me always had thought that my father would be able to protect me if I couldn’t make it on my own. Unlike most people who idealized their parents, I had a father who actually was a giant who had saved humanity. The faith I hadn’t realized I had been walking around with had more justification than most. If he could save humanity what couldn’t he do for me? He was an odd parent which makes sense as he is an extremely odd person and our circumstances aren’t normal by historic standards. He raised me with benign neglect. He let me make my choices and live with the consequences. He treated me the way he would have wished to be treated. The down side of this is that I was not as smart or capable as he was and neglect - even if benign - is still neglect. But I always knew he loved me and knew that if I got into real trouble he would do all he could for me and that was quite a lot. But apparently not enough today. With a last squeeze, he let me go and went back behind his desk.
“Go play the game, Miles. Work harder. Work smarter. You have all the luck you need.”
I sat in the red chair took a blue pill and then I was back in that other same red chair IRL. My father’s real eyes, mismatched and too large, were closed as he remained in VR. I got up and walked out. On my way out of the house, ArchE came up to me.
“Don’t forget your memory stick, Miles. Numitor wanted to make sure you remembered to leave with it,” he said.
I took the stick. It looked like the same stick I had brought, but it couldn’t be. I thought over our conversation. The only thing I could do is proceed to play the game using my intelligence informed by my experiences. So, play harder and smarter I would.
CHAPTER SIX
I made it back to my apartment without any new run-ins with Aabid or anyone else looking to do Maya a favor. I was looking forward to getting back in the game where getting attacked was the normal part of life, and I had a better chance of defending myself, but I was dead on my feet.
I inserted the memory stick into my pod. It began loading its contents into the pod’s systems. In the meantime, I grabbed another meal, took care of things in the bathroom and had a shower. Whatever my father had given me was taking quite a while to initialize. Sleep was now a necessity. Closing my eyes, a wave of fatigue washed over me. Before I knew it, I was off to the original land of dreams and virtual reality, but I remembered none of them when I awoke.
Sometime in the night, the stick ArchE had handed me had finished whatever program it had for my pod. I got into the pod and launched. My fingertips stroked a melody made of the taste of bitter melon and then I was in Quartzite. I looked around. It was the same dusty, one horse town I had left. Looking out past the edge of town, I could see that the desert hares had respawned. As far as I could see, the memory stick hadn’t done anything noticeable. I called up my character sheet.
Miles Boone
Level 2
Exp: 1,000 (3,000 to next level)
Hit Points: 18 (8 +1 Con bonus per level)
Str 13 (+1)
Dex 12 (+1)
Con 13 (+1)
Int 12 (+1)
Wis 12 (+1)
Cha 12 (+1)
Luc 0* (-%$)
Skills:
Unallocated Skill Points 2**
*n/a
** see a trainer to use unallocated skill points
and acquire new skills
Nothing seemed different with the interface or status page either. The memory stick’s effects would remain a mystery for now. I’d just follow orders and my own inclination and start playing harder than the next guy.
Time to gear up. I had 500 gp burning a hole in my pocket, and a dozen desert hare whose meat and skins must be worth something. One of the buildings had a sign that read Big Nate’s Emporium. Any beginner’s area was going to have access to the basics: a smithy, an apothecary, an inn, and a general goods store. I walked up to the covered wooden walkway in front of the store. A couple of old timers had stopped their game of checkers and watched me enter. The prospector with the beard from before smiled wide. That is, I couldn’t see his teeth but his beard splayed out like a fan.
“Well, if it isn’t the rabbit killer,” he snarked.
“That’s me. Terror of the high desert,” I replied. “Be careful, if I level up a few more times, I might try and tackle that beard of yours.”
He and the old timers guffawed.
“You really chose Quartzite for your starter area?”
“Why not?”
“Not the ambitious type is ya? Can’t recall that we ever got a new player start here and I’ve been scratching out a living here for quite a piece. Regular players around here are mostly older folks who don’t like or aren’t good at spending time with others too much, people on the run, and eccentrics. People looking for a place to drop out of the rat race. Or, are you an idiot of some sort?” he asked.
“I guess we’ll find out. Which are you?”
“That’s not polite to ask,” he said.
“But you just asked me…”
“I told you some of us aren’t good around people. That’s me. I do it because I’m a rude old bastard who doesn’t give a good god damn. Unless you want to be like me don’t ask questions like that around here,” he told me not unkindly.
“Thanks. Do a new neighbor a favor. Can you let me know what the going rate on desert hare is these days? What is the markup above standard?” I asked.
“It’s zero.”
“Ha ha. Seriously,” I asked again.
“It’s nothing. There is no markup above what the system sets. You don’t have to believe me. Go see Big Nate. If you want advice--and it’s friendly advice even if it might not sound like it--head out. Get back on the road and get out of these parts. I can see you don’t believe me. Go check out Nate’s. Then think about what I just told you and get out of Quartzite.”
“I can’t.”
“You better figure a way. Strangers don’t do too well around here. Go sell that rabbit you killed. You’ll see.”
With that, he stomped off. I couldn’t believe what he had just told me. The warning to leave was crazy and so was what he said about the prices here. I hoped he was just a nut. Inside the game there is a floor set on the values of different materials. You can always sell at a certain price that the AI decrees. But supply and demand will have their say. If a material is becoming scarce, the game will raise or lower the price to make the market start to clear and keep resources flowing through the system. The clans engaged in economic warfare as well as all the other types of conflict. They enforced monopolies on certain resources and embargoed towns to get their way. I’d have to think about what this meant.
I entered the store. A hound dog slept on the floor. Behind the counter was the NPC store clerk. If he was Nate then calling the place Big Nate’s was false advertising. The game cues you in on what to expect from the minor AI inhabiting the NPCs via dress and looks. My luck continued. The shopkeeper was a mean, pinched little man. Well, he should like the look of my gold if nothing else.
“Hi. I’m looking to get geared up,” I said as friendly as I could.
“Something odd about you boy,” he replied. This was definitely not a standard response to an obvious request to see inventory. I realized that the AI was having trou
ble running some calculations without getting the variable it must look for with every customer. My trade skill was as low as could be so he should be licking his chops at the prospect of fleecing me. But my luck just flat out didn’t exist. The NPC was translating this as “something odd.”
“I’m told that I'm the first player to start in this location possibly ever?” I offered as an explanation for my oddity.
With a shake of his head, the clerk got back to business. “Right. Well, that is what I am here for.”
“And I was hoping you buy? I got some desert hares here.” I laid my five kills out on the counter.
“10 coppers,” was the immediate response.
“So, one silver and ten copper? Kind of low, isn’t it?” I said.
“No. Are you deaf? Ten copper. Meat is one copper. Skin is one copper.”
“I thought you meant each,” I said, which elicited more mean laughter. “So what? Are desert hares not useful for anything? Can’t you eat the meat? Can’t make the skin into leather?”
“Eh, why would you think that? And sure them critters are useful. Most people live off the things around here. Have ‘em for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” he said.
I had no idea what was going on in the local economy. Hopefully, I’d figure it out quickly. If prices were low, then my 500gp would go pretty far. Maybe I’d make use of the rabbits myself if they were worth so little.
“Can I look at some cooking recipes for desert hare?”
“Sure. Starter cooking recipes… I have Flame Broiled Desert Hare. Barbecue Grilled Desert Hare. And a real crowd favorite: Hasenpfeffer. That one you also need to collect wild onions. Only 200 gp. Each.” I could tell that he was enjoying telling me the prices. Those incredibly high, nigh unimaginable prices. Ten coppers make one silver. Ten silver make one gold. I’d have to kill 10,000 Desert Hares to buy one single recipe. What was happening in this insane area?
“I’ll pass for now. Can I see some weapons?” Out came an assortment of starter weapons. Daggers, short swords, short bow, spear, staff. Common materials with basic stats. I hated to ask. “How much?”
I couldn’t afford any of them. The cheapest item was the staff. It was 750 gp. So, if I killed 15,000 dessert hares with my bare hands and didn’t spend a dime of my starting gold over the months it would take me to do that, I could get a plain staff with no special bonuses or abilities.
I lost it.
“What kind of messed up store is this? Who can possibly shop here? You telling me that crazy prospector can pay these prices?”
“Bert doesn’t buy much I’ll admit. Just sells his ore.”
“No one can shop here. No wonder you have no beginners here. No wonder no one comes to this area. You are a cheat. You like running a store with no customers? I have a guild starting package, and I can’t afford one item. A regular player couldn’t even…”
As I yelled, the store manager stopped with his high-handed manner. The greedy, haughty expression left his face and depression took its place. He just started hunching over himself and withdrew into a timid crouch. Somehow my tantrum was able to hurt his feelings. I wound down. Now what?
“I’m sorry. Is my getting upset at your highway robbery upsetting you?” I asked.
“I charge what I have to, you know? You think I like sitting here, waiting for customers who never come, with price lists that make absolutely no sense? All I ever get to do is buy ore. I finally get a beginner customer… You think that I set the prices? I get a margin that I can play with. If I can haggle and negotiate above the standard price adjusted for a player's trade skill, I get the rest. This job is supposed to be commission based. You know how much I jacked the price up from what I have to charge for you? You with no trade skill developed at all? Zero. Nothing. I just wanted a sale, period. I am the lowest grossing store in the entire game. It’s humiliating,” he moaned.
I thought over what the store owner had told me. This all predated me coming into town. Whatever this was, it wasn’t my luck stat throwing a monkey wrench into the works. But I still needed gear. Was this some plot of Maya or her allies? Impossible. No, this crazy town was like this before I got here.
I needed gear. And I couldn’t waste the time it would take traveling to another area even if I could survive the journey.
I did have one more set of cards to play. Should I? Someone in this area had gone to great lengths to manipulate prices here. Whoever was behind this wouldn’t like me messing with their scheme. Angering the locals seemed like a bad idea as I was going to be living here for a year. That said, I doubted they could do worse to me than enslave me for life to my worst enemy after having me fight monsters with my bare hands. My dad always told me that the Chinese symbol for crisis is the same as the symbol for opportunity. But I happen to know he doesn't speak let alone read Chinese, so who knows if that is correct?
“I want to confirm some prices with you,” I stated to the shop owner, who had been ignoring me to focus on his inner misery while I weighed my options.
“Really?” He looked up with a faint glimmer of hope.
“Yes. I want to confirm that this staff is 750gp. The spear is 875gp. The short sword is 925gp. The hammer is 900 gp and the dagger is 800.” He confirmed the prices on every beginner item he had to sell.
“And what is your restocking fee? If I get any of these items from you what will you give me if I return the item?” I asked.
The store owner looked at me. I could see the wheels turning in his head.
“You think you are going to buy one of these weapons and then return it after you use it. Right? You must think I was born yesterday. Alright. The restocking fee is 100 gp for every point of durability you lose on the item. If you want to buy a weapon and then return it after killing some rabbits you can buy it at full price and, after a few nicks and scratches, return it and lose 4-500gp for the cost of it. But no matter what--even if you return it in perfect shape--the base restocking fee is 150gp.”
I could see the store owner was crafty. If I basically rented the weapons, he’d make at least 150gp even if I somehow miraculously managed not to damage anything at all. An impossibility. This was a good deal from his perspective. He could rent me a staff for hundreds of gold that normally sells for only a few silver.
“Same deal on the armors?”
Seeing that I seemed seriously interested in this crazy deal, he was getting excited.
“You have my word.”
I was hoping he would say that. By game rules, once he gave me his word the terms and prices were now locked in until I left the store.
“I have a Party Member Affiliate starting package. Logged Guttmacher 845321-Iota - x-ray. I believe this comes with free basic gear.”
The store owner turned green.
“Acknowledged,” he stammered. “What Cradle Quest are you working on?”
“Let’s say crafting,” I replied.
“Crafting starter package includes a hammer, light leather armor. Beginner’s tool kit,” he said placing the items on the counter with trembling hands.
“I’d like to return the armor and weapon, please,” I said.
“What? Why? I only sell top quality items.”
“I will happily pay the 150gp restocking fee you quoted,” I said. “So, after returning the hammer for 900gp less 150gp restocking, and the light leather armor which was 1200gp less 150 gp, that comes to 1,800gp you owe me.”
He grunted as if punched in the gut then handed me a large pouch of gold. But he was made of pretty strong stuff and rallied.
“So now what, genius? You still have no gear and are three hundred short of the cost of the starter set.”
“Party Member Affiliate starting package comes with basic gear for every Cradle Quest,” I replied.
“Sure, you just proved it didn’t you. And if you could buy somewhere else the money you just made would do you some good. You heading out of town? Level two and no gear. You are sure to die a few times before you hit anywhere
my gold will do you any good,” he retorted.
“I don’t need to buy anywhere else. I am mostly here to sell. Party Affiliate starting package logged Guttmacher 845321-Iota - x-ray. Give me the problem-solving gear.”
“You have two Cradle Quests?” he froze, communing with his inner rulebook. Then, whatever internal debates happened within the game system having been resolved, he unfroze and said, “Fine.”
He placed the staff, cloth robes and a basic grimoire on the counter.
“Staff is 750 gp. Cloth robes are a bargain at 450 gp. I’ll keep the grimoire. That is 900 gp you owe me.”
He choked seeing that I was returning more gear, but he paid up.
“Gathering gear, please.”
He just stared at me.
“Guttmacher 84…” I began.
“I heard you.”
He handed over the starter gear set related to each of my Cradle Quests.
I kept the specialist item from each quest. The toolbox from the crafting quest, the grimoire from the problem-solving quest, the skinning knife, mining pick and scythe from the gathering quest. I especially loved the item from the trade quest. The trade quest was almost never solved by anyone not in the Party. Beyond the needed business contacts that came with Party connections, it was this item that made completing the trade quest possible. A bag of holding. You normally can’t even get one of these inside the beginner’s area. Man, did the Party put the fix into this game for their people. I truly thought the store owner would collapse after handing this over.
