by Charles Dean
“To be fair, Darwin, I didn’t kill her--one of my bodyguards did. The only reason I’m here to wrap up this loose end in person is because your spineless, worthless friends couldn’t do it for me, and I can’t risk someone else doing it and running their mouth where Stephanie can hear.” Charles stood up from his leather swivel chair and extended his hand. As soon as he did, a meter-long, simple wooden stick appeared in it. “Though, honestly, I did enjoy knowing she died. It brought me a little pleasure to think that the traitorous wench bit the bullet.”
“She wasn’t a traitor. She just made a few mistakes,” Darwin replied, trying to defend Kass as he circled to Charles’s left, still approaching only by inches at a time in his slow creep closer. What is he planning? Why am I here, and how does he plan to defeat me with a stick?
“She made a mistake? No, her father made a mistake by allowing such naivety to exist in a girl over the age of ten. She was incapable of thinking any action through more than one step ahead.” Charles seemed amused by the stick as he twirled it twice, not even bothering to face Darwin as he kept slowly circling to his left. “She might as well have been taught the rules for checkers while everyone else grew up with chess. That is why it’s fitting that, given it was his mistake and not hers, he’ll be the one left alive to suffer her death and mourn the loss of a second woman he loved.”
“Is that how little you think of the people around you?” Darwin continued to edge closer, growing even more unsettled by the complete disregard with which Charles treated his presence.
“Ah, that’s right. You, like most people, use conversational proximity as a primary factor in calculating a person’s worth. If they have enough conversations close enough for you to hear, they are suddenly more important than if you never hear a word out of their mouth.” Charles laughed at Darwin. “Darwin, why don’t you just admit it: You love to kill, and the only reason you don’t butcher those two people playing bestial half-breeds upstairs is because you got to know them, and you don’t like the negative emotions that come with killing someone you know.”
Darwin looked at his blade, Steel Clemency, and then joined in Charles’s laugh. “You’re right, Charles, I do. I don’t just love it: I need it. It’s more than hunger. It’s more than a skill penalty, a festering urge pressing me to act. No, it’s a calling. It’s my purpose, and without purpose, what are we but lost lambs waiting for the day we are slaughtered?”
As Darwin’s voice grew firmer and his laughter rose, Charles’s own jolly chuckling ceased. His expression stiffened like rapidly-freezing ice as he looked at Darwin. “So, that little game won’t work anymore on you. A shame. I was hoping it would progress further, but it seems that she has blessed you with clarity in your madness.”
“‘She’?” Darwin looked at the sword. It was given by a man, right? he asked himself as he lunged across the room and struck at Charles. The blow failed, quickly parried with a simple flick of Charles’s stick.
“Yes, ‘she.’ Did you never wonder about the nature of the beast you lived in? Did you think that we could create an artificial intelligence capable of running a million times more functions, thoughts and processes than any human being alive without it ever growing sentient?” Charles had the upper hand. The blow he had used to knock Darwin’s blade aside had left Darwin wide open, but Charles just sat there, continuing his dialogue as if Darwin were nothing more than a gnat he couldn’t be bothered with slapping on a hot day. “Naivety. Just like Kass. Hers through nurture, but yours through nature. All you’re good for is swinging a sword.” Charles blocked another thrust Darwin had aimed at Charles’s exposed left side. He diverted the attack with such indifference that a spectator might have viewed it like watching a grown man parrying the slow, weak attempts of a child at playing knight. Charles’s skill made his statement about Darwin only being good at sword-wielding seem more like mockery than truth.
Darwin did his best to focus on the fight and not let the conversation distract him as he tried a third thrust with his new sword, but that too was easily parried. Charles didn’t even appear to be trying, but as he blocked this third blow, throwing Darwin and his sword to the left, he took his wooden stick and struck the right side of Darwin’s arm lightly. The pain that shot through the point of impact pushed tears out of Darwin’s eyes as he struggled to stop himself from blacking out. “What the--”
“See? You don’t think at all. You just wave that sword around.” Charles’s face sagged into a frown as he struck Darwin’s right arm again, the pain throwing Darwin to the floor. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re immortal in here. Someone as simple as you will take more than an eternity to grow out of that childish mindset.”
Darwin almost wailed from the agony, but the shock of it had left him mute, scrambling in his mind to try and fight off the excruciating sensation, to win even the slightest reprieve for a moment from the pain. He was about to give up, to just leave his eyes closed as he balled up on the ground, when his respite came.
This isn’t your world, Champion, said a voice trickling through his ear amidst the screaming in his head.
That’s right. This is his world, he agreed with the voice as the pain stopped momentarily. It wasn’t gone for good though. As soon as he realized why Charles was winning so handily, the wracking agony returned and crippled him mentally again.
“You know, you wouldn’t think anyone could come to like carrying out torture--it’s such a sloppy thing after all--but it does grow on you.” Charles struck Darwin two more times, the effect being even worse than the first two taps as Darwin tried to grapple with his twitching body for control. “Even the chatting. I always told myself when I was a kid watching spy thrillers that I’d never be the villain who chats away with his captive. I always said that I’d just kill them, but then I grew older and had enemies to actually kill. It’s important to break a person’s spirit sometimes, to let them know exactly how far they’ve fallen, as you slowly beat them to death.” Charles’s stick hit Darwin right across the chest this time.
Come on, Darwin. Don’t lose yourself here, he told himself as he fought his mind’s desire to turn off, to shut down and go home for the day. Every part of him wanted to just let go, but he knew he couldn’t lose, that he only needed control for one minute to win.
“Right now, for instance, I need you to go insane from the pain. I need you to lose control just once and die without clarity. The fail safes in the programming will activate, and you’ll be trapped forever, unreachable by anyone until I need to take you down from the shelf and dust you off for more samples.” Charles stabbed his stick into Darwin’s back as he lay on the ground.
Just a moment more. Focus. This is for Kass. Darwin managed to stay on the ground, like a dog looking beaten, as he readied his toes in the dirt. He was waiting for his moment. Charles continued to circle him and strike him once or twice more. Every ounce of him wanted to flee sanity, to go to a happy place and let his body ignore the pain, but he held it all like a weapon. He pressed it into his core and used it as fuel for his concentration as Charles slowly and arrogantly walked into position. Then he leapt straight at his foe. It was a gambit, one he was staking his existence on, but he had faith. His awkward tackle would have left any martial artist complaining about form and neck injuries, and it didn’t really hurt Charles--that much was evident--but it did accomplish its goal: It pushed both men through the obsidian portal and into the real world.
“No . . .” Charles panicked as he used both of his arms to try and push himself away from Darwin who was now on top of him. “No! No, this can’t be. This can’t happen. This shouldn’t be possible,” Charles cried out as he continued to flail on the ground under Darwin.
Darwin, who was still recovering from the pain he had experienced in the game, took a moment to realize his success. I did it! He sighed with relief. The end of agony and the triumph over his enemy felt like ecstasy for him. I did it! he cheered to himself again as he watched Charles squirm. “Let me share with
you the one truth of this world,” Darwin said to Charles, grinning as he pulled his sword up and shoved down it into Charles’s heart.
As he rolled off the dead, old man and onto his back, leaving his blade still planted in Charles’s heart, Darwin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I don’t ever want to have to play that board again.
Chapter 10 – Save and Continue
Kass:
As Kass lay in bed, still recovering from her injury and being extra careful not to move her body, which continued to punish her for taking anything more than shallow breaths, she tried to distract herself from the boredom by watching television on one of the screens Stephanie had lent her. Announcements of expansions for some of the older MMOs that were still leeching money from hardcore devotees made up a good portion of the gaming news that day. People had blown so much time and cash on those games that they would probably never switch to the bigger, better and newer ones out there. Sunk costs, right? Kass knew the feeling. It had taken a lot to get her to move to Tiqpa; and, given the ache in her stomach, she half-wished she never had. Finally, in the middle of the mundane updates and announcements, the screen flashed with an awkward 1990s-style flash-animated text informing her that a ‘breaking update’ was going to interrupt their normal broadcast.
Ryan, one of the lead G.O.R.N. news anchors, addressed the screen, “This just in, Daria: As we speak, there is an invasion going on in the world of Tiqpa right now. Bollert, can you take us to the live gameplay footage we have on the scene?” The screen cut away to show a location that Kass knew quite well: the area outside the walls of Peh-Ting Zhou. When she had first seen the city, she had marveled at how proud and majestic those walls had seemed with their oriental dignity. Now, however, that beautiful architecture was hidden behind another wall--a wall of heads impaled on stakes set out in all directions and laid out like gravestones in a cemetery. The mangled faces seemed to follow the camera with their hollow stares as they rested upon the pikes. Someone had also constructed hellish barbeque pits interspersed throughout the field of heads where dismembered body parts roasted over hot coals on spits.
“Oh, my-- Somebody take that down!” Daria gasped. The shots of the carnage outside of Peh-Ting Zhou were taken down almost as quickly as they had been put up, and the camera switched back to Daria in time to catch her holding up her note cards to shield her eyes from the mutilation that was still playing uncensored on the studio monitors. “Wow, Bollert, I think you should have warned us on that one. This is clearly not for children or young audiences. Goodness’ sake,” she groaned, peeping over her notes briefly. “For those just tuning in, please be advised: This content is for mature audiences only. I stress: mature audiences only.” A small, almost-hiccup of a cough found its way out of her mouth at the end of her warning.
“Are you okay, Daria?” The screen cut back to Ryan, who had put a hand on Daria’s shoulder and was comforting his co-host. The short girl had turned a shade of green that almost matched her dress.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Daria nevertheless covered her mouth as soon as she finished speaking.
“Can we get her some water? Thanks, let’s get her some water,” Ryan called to some anonymous staffer. “Sorry, folks. We’re going to cut back to the live Tiqpa feed for a moment while Daria gets some water. The censors should be up now, right? Yes? Okay, they’re up, folks. Nevertheless, we still caution parents and viewers that this is mature content and not meant for younger audiences.”
“Holy crap! Is she going to vomit? I so hope she does! PUKE! PUKE!” Kass heard Stephanie yell from her computer.
“You’re watching it too?” Kass asked, not taking her eyes off the show for a moment as the screen cut back to Tiqpa.
“Of course I’m watching it. It’s Darwin’s big debut, after all. I can’t wait to see him sitting there, all majestic and handsome in his bathrobe!” Stephanie looked like she was about to fall out of her chair as she swooned into the arms of an imaginary Darwin. “It’s not every day your boyfriend gets to be on TV.”
Boyfriend. Hearing the word come from Stephanie made Kass feel just like Daria: like she wanted to throw up. The nastiness on the TV, however, didn’t bother her. She had played enough Tiqpa to handle the barrage of now-pixelated gore that crawled across her screen as whoever was filming the event panned left and right.
“Daria, you feeling better now?” Ryan asked his co-host, who could be heard sighing feebly after drinking some water.
“Yeah, I’m better. Thanks for that, Ryan.”
“Good, now tell us a bit about what we’re seeing here.”
“Well, Ryan, if you and our viewers are thinking that this is a scene out of a horror film, an atrocity committed by evil incarnate, you might not be too far from the mark. Players from all over the were-world islands and other starting zones of Tiqpa who chose Peh-Ting Zhou as their residence are logging into a virtual massacre, one we’ll show you shortly, and are being butchered by the Demons of the StormGuard Alliance. Our investigative reporters have actually been following this faction for a while. It is led by the bathrobe-wearing, horned Demon King who goes by the title ‘The Great Lord Darwin.’ While a lot of people believe that this attack is random, sparked merely by this Demon King’s bloodlust, we’ve uncovered that it is in direct response to an in-game quest to invade the home of the Demons’ portal, Mt. Lawlheima.”
“That’s . . . um . . .” Ryan sputtered out. He appeared to be caught off guard at first by the bizarre development but then managed to organize his thoughts enough to respond, “Now, tell me about that for a moment . . . because I believe the other day we actually had some amazing screenshots of non-player armies rallying in the city. Is there strong enough evidence to show that these events are connected?”
“Absolutely, Ryan. Without a doubt, these events are related. We haven’t been able to get all the details together yet, as no players recorded this event, and it mostly happened between NPCs, but we do know that an army several thousand strong left Peh-Ting Zhou as it marched towards Mt. Lawlheima, which appears to be the base of operations for the Demon King. Apparently, that army was never seen again. A few hours later, a quest popped up for guilds in the area to assault the portal of Lawlheima, and then, less than a day later, a quest to join the Demon King’s legion also popped up.”
“Fascinating. Now, the quest to assault the portal seemed pretty cut and dry: Rush in, kill the Demon King, and break the portal. However, if my memory serves me correctly, the Demon King’s legion quest wasn't. Can you tell me more about that and why it is a one of a kind event in the world of Tiqpa?”
“Well, I'm glad you brought that back up, Ryan, because it really is an unprecedented quest. Bollert, can you cut to the in-city footage? Great. As you can see, this murder and mayhem isn't being done by a random army of Demons, but actually by players who have chosen other races. This would be a nightmare relived for any former residents of Valcrest. Players are assaulting the city and specifically looking for other players, not NPCs, to kill. Apparently, this player-on-player violence is because the legion’s members aren't actually a part of the faction yet. Instead, they are initiates still trying to meet their player-versus-player kill quotas required to join. Until they bring the king enough heads, they aren't permitted to continue his eccentric quest line or join the StormGuard Alliance.” The images showed bathrobe-wearing players of all races hunting down and butchering every player that logged in. One after the other, individuals were swarmed and trampled over by dozens of bloodthirsty Demon-wannabes sporting bathrobes.
So this is your solution to Darwin’s madness. Kass sighed, her belly still stinging as a tender reminder of why senseless violence wasn't something she would be able to take lightly for a while.
“They keep talking about him, but where is he? This is supposed to be his opening night act, and they haven't even put him on stage!” Stephanie grumbled loudly as the clips showed more and more murderers that weren't Darwin.
“Now, Daria, this
can't be good news for the casual players who are just getting off work, logging in and finding themselves getting killed right at the login and their game almost unplayable. For the amount of money a monthly subscription for this game costs, there should be some swift response by the game’s team. Does Tiqpa have any comment about how they are going to address this issue? Or are they planning to ignore it for the time being and maintain their current hands-off approach?”
“Well, Ryan, that’s a tricky question to answer. Tiqpa representatives have been on the line with us, but they’re dodging the questions and pretending like nothing out of the ordinary is going on. We were able to get a response from one source, who wishes to remain anonymous so his position at the company won’t be jeopardized, and he has told us that the higher ups are scrambling because, when it comes to matters like this, they need Charles’s approval, and he’s nowhere to be found.”
“Charles isn’t anywhere to be found?” Stephanie pushed aside the monitor showing the feed and quickly began banging away at her keyboard. “Charles always has a comment, even if it’s just to do nothing. Where is he? He cares too much about his business not to respond to it.”
“He might be playing the game himself for once.” Kass suggested.
“Playing the game himself? He would never do that . . . unless . . .” Stephanie paused, still hammering away at her keyboard, bringing up image after image.
Why do people always do that? You help them come to a conclusion, but they selfishly keep it to themselves and don’t share it. That’s just not right, Kass grumbled in her head. Unless what? she wondered curiously, turning her attention back to the TV.
“That is definitely a good assumption, Ryan. So, wrapping this up, what do you see for the future of Tiqpa as this bathrobed maniac continues to run amok? Will he truly rise to be the emperor of our new game?”
