Dead Man Gaming: A LitRPG Series

by A. J. Markam

  “Don’t you just love it?” she asked wistfully.

  “Love what?”

  She pointed out at the sunset. “This. The game designers put so much effort into this. It’s so beautiful… everything here is perfect.”

  “Besides having to fight with wargs and bog monsters?” I joked.

  She smiled. “Barring those things, yes – it’s perfect.”

  I can’t say I thought of it that way. While the game was certainly fun, I always felt like I had a gun pointed at my head. I couldn’t really enjoy anything totally because I knew there was an FBI agent with a one-way ticket to prison with my name on it, and she could show up to yank my chain at the worst possible moment.

  “I don’t know about perfect,” I said with complete honesty. “…but it is pretty cool.”

  Jen stared off into the sky. “Maybe your life is good enough that all this just seems like a pleasant diversion… but for me, right now, this is basically all there is.”

  I didn’t want to tell her that I was pretty sure no matter how bad her life was, mine was worse – but I was curious.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  She held her breath like she was wondering whether she should speak… like she was about to say something momentous…

  Then she exhaled. “Nothing. It’s fine. Everything’s good.”

  “In my experience, when a woman says, ‘Nothing, it’s fine, everything’s good,’ it’s usually not.”

  She laughed. “You’re probably right. But I’m just being overly dramatic. You know… regular stuff. No job, student loans, bank account dwindling, broke up with my boyfriend – ”

  “You broke up with your boyfriend?” I asked, suddenly intensely interested.

  She raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Yeah. I’m in the same boat as you with your mysterious ex.”

  “Unless your ex is stalking you, I somehow doubt you’re in the same boat as me.”

  She laughed. “She’s really stalking you?”

  “Feels like it.”

  “Well, the nice thing is, she can’t kill you here in this world. At least not permanently.”

  “Yeah,” I said, though what I thought was, She can just send me to prison for life.

  But that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I wanted to share at the moment.

  “At least I’ve got good friends,” Jen said, then raised one eyebrow. “Seth is kind of obnoxious… Russell is an incorrigible horndog… but they’re fun. And Richard is sweet.”

  “What about me?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “You’re good company. The rest remains to be seen.”

  Then she walked away.

  The rest remains to be seen?

  What did that mean?

  From that point forward, I thought about Jen in a slightly different light.

  The only downside was that Arkova popped in every once in a while.

  She usually timed it after the others were gone for the night. I would be sitting by the fire by myself, working away at the lock boxes with my picks, when I would hear the familiar roar and leathery wings of a manticore up in the sky.

  Seconds later, Arkova would drop down on her mount and walk over to the fire.

  “What’s your progress?”

  “Level 180 in lock picking,” I said grumpily, refusing to look at her. “125 in Enchantment.”

  “Good,” she said, betraying a little bit of surprise. “Good. Once you get to Sillomar, we’ll set you up with a real profession trainer, get new lockboxes, and level you up to 400.”

  I just looked at her resentfully, then went back to picking the lockbox.

  “How’s the questing going? What Level are you now?”

  “14.”

  I’d picked up some more skills over the last couple of days. I had Throwing Knives now, which I could use to attack mobs from a distance. The knives didn’t inflict much damage, but they never ran out. And I could activate Extreme Dodge, which let me dodge 100% of blows from mobs for 10 seconds. I could only trigger it once every five minutes, but believe me, I used the hell out of it.

  Sometimes when I got bored by myself at night, I would go out into the wilderness and grind for a while – killing rabid wolves and tunneling worms and whatever I could find that was near my level, just so I could get some more XP to help me level up. I was still a couple of levels behind my friends – they were all Level 16 now – but I was getting closer every day, and the gulf between us wasn’t so big anymore. In fact, I now regularly participated in the missions and pulled my weight as far as dealing damage went.

  “Good,” Arkova said. “Good.”

  She stood there awkwardly as I gave her the cold shoulder and worked on my lockbox.

  “What’s your problem?” she asked.

  “Other than I’m a lowlife criminal, and you’re an officer of the law?” I sneered. “Nothing.”

  She crossed her arms. “Look, I know you’ve got friends now and you’re having fun, but you’re doing a job. Don’t forget that.”

  “I can’t. You’re always there to remind me.”

  She stood there for a long moment, then finally said, “You’ll be in Sillomar tomorrow. I’ll find you… and then I’ll continue briefing you on your mission.”

  “I’m looking so forward to it,” I said sarcastically.

  She left without a word, climbed onto her manticore, and flew away.

  I sat there in the firelight, working on my lockboxes, becoming faster, more skilled, deadlier.

  I had a goal, and I was going to reach it no matter what.

  The sooner I got out from under the FBI’s thumb, the better.

  31

  We reached Sillomar on the afternoon of the fourth day. It was visible from miles away – a collection of thin spires within a giant walled compound.

  The city was vast, and stretched far beyond its walls. There were dozens and dozens of farms surrounding Sillomar, and tiny little villages where lots of NPCs could be found handing out quests. We ignored them and focused on getting to the city as soon as possible.

  As we walked the main road, hundreds of other players traveled along with us – on all sorts of exotic mounts like dragons, phoenixes, giant spiders, and eels that swam through the air. Not to mention hundreds more traveling on foot.

  “Whoa,” Slothfart said as we watched a group of trolls zoom by on running dodo birds, “this is pretty intense.”

  “Did you smoke out before you logged on?” Jen asked.

  “That’s why it’s pretty intense.”

  “I’m seeing a lot more dwarves and humans than normal,” I asked Jen. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, you and I and the guys are all Darklings, and most of the towns we’ve been in have been in Darkling territories. Sillomar is a neutral zone, where there’s a temporary truce between Darkling and Federation players. At least until somebody picks a fight. Speaking of which, don’t pick any fights. In Sillomar, anybody can fight anybody else at the drop of a hat. We should be fine as long as we stick together, but try not to piss anybody off.”

  The closer we got to the city, the more guards there were along the road. Men in suits of chain mail with spears upright at their sides.

  All I could think of when I saw them was the FBI watching over my shoulder.

  “Why are there so many guards?” I asked nervously. “To stop fights?”

  “No, they’re more for decoration than anything else,” Jen said, “although you can ask them where something is and they’ll tell you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah – watch this.” She walked over to one of the guards and said, “Excuse me – where’s the bank in Sillomar?”

  The guard lifted his arm and pointed off towards the city, whose walls were looming higher in the distance every passing minute. “The central bank is in the Trade District, towards the southern part of the city. You will find it near the grove of purple flowering larios trees. Just keep to the main road, you can’t miss it.”

&
nbsp; “Thanks,” she said, then walked over to me. “Now, if you’d been the one to ask him – which I should’ve had you do – you’d see the icon for the bank on your map.”

  “Hold on,” I said, and walked over to a guard.

  “Well met, traveler. How can I help you?” he asked.

  “Where’s the trainers for Lock Picking and Enchanting?”

  “Magus Storas is who you want for Enchanting. She can be found in the Mage Quarter on the east side of the city. You didn’t hear it from me, but I’ve heard that there is a master lock picking trainer named Gundarst in the Dark District. The entrance is underneath the main bridge over the canal. Just be careful you don’t get stabbed.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and pulled out my map as I walked off. Sure enough, there were two little flags on the map – one in the Mage Quarter, and one near a bridge. “Wow – that’s pretty cool.”

  “Are you going to level up your tailoring, Seth?” Richard asked with a barely suppressed smile.

  “Shut up,” the orc grumbled. “What’s your profession, anyway?”

  “Herbalism and alchemy.”

  “Why haven’t I seen you picking any herbs, then?”

  “Probably because you’ve been smoking them all,” Russell said gleefully.

  Slothfart got a dreamy look on his face. “Dude, if the type of herb I liked existed in this world, I’d never leave.”

  There was a giant moat surrounding the city, which we crossed via a drawbridge. The moat was a good 20 feet wide, with muddy water and rushes growing on the banks. The drawbridge was massive – a 50-foot-long slab of iron that clanged as we walked across.

  Once we were inside the city, the wonders didn’t stop. It was like walking through Disneyland, if Disneyland were a medieval stronghold. Two-story buildings lined the cobblestone streets, and were filled with shops where vendors hawked their wares. There were fruit vendors, fish mongers, and dicey salesman touting magical potions to increase stamina, agility, and every other stat under the sun.

  “+100 critical strike rings!” one of the guys yelled. “One gold!”

  “I’ll buy that!” Slothfart said, and walked over.

  “Seth, it’s totally a scam,” Jen warned him.

  “You don’t know that. I could be about to become the baddest-assed mofo out on the battlefield in about 30 seconds.”

  “Or the dumbest sucker to ever get conned in Sillomar.”

  “What’s critical strike?” I asked. “I’ve seen it in my stats, but I have no idea what it is.”

  “Critical Strike is where you occasionally get lucky and deal twice as much damage as a normal blow,” Jen explained. “Everybody has a base Critical Strike of 5%, which means that one out of every 20 times you’ll deal more damage than usual. But you can get armor and trinkets that add to your Critical Strike, which increases your chances. I’ve heard of people who had 33%, which means that every third strike was more powerful. BUT they spent a HUGE amount of time in dungeons, getting really good gear,” she shouted at Slothfart as he handed a gold coin to the vendor.

  The orc waved her off. “Stop harshing my buzz!”

  “Okay,” Jen said to me, “we’re here in Sillomar – what exactly what did you want to do?”

  I froze. I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth.

  “…look around?”

  “Look around?!” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up. “We walked three days to get here so you could ‘look around’?!”

  “I don’t know what’s here!” I said. “It’s so huge, I don’t know what to do!”

  “That’s what she said,” Slothfart snorted as he walked back over to the group. “I suggest we find a drinking establishment.”

  “And then a nudie bar!” Russell cried out.

  “I second that motion,” Slothfart agreed.

  Jen sighed. “I think we should find a good quest first.”

  “I cast my vote with the gentleman for the drinking,” Richard said.

  Jen turned on him. “What?!”

  “You heard me. Democracy, bitches,” Richard said dryly.

  Russell and Slothfart both howled with laughter and gave him high-fives.

  “Do not make me freeze you like I do Russell,” Jen warned him.

  “Duly noted,” Richard said, holding up his hands like Don’t shoot.

  “All right – you guys can go drinking. I’m going to go wand shopping.”

  “The vibrating kind?” Slothfart asked.

  “If I find one, I’ll be sure to get one you can stick up your ass,” Jen said.

  Everybody in the group howled with laughter – except Slothfart. “Why you gotta do me dirty like that?”

  “That’s for all the ‘that’s what she saids,’” Jen quipped, then walked off. “I’ll text you in a while and find out where you are. Have fun.”

  Slothfart shook his head, then looked over at me and rubbed his hands together. “All right, Jimmy – you ready to get your drink on?”

  “Actually, I think I’m going to go visit the profession trainers.”

  “Really? Seriously? We have an exotic selection of the realm’s finest alcoholic beverages to sample, and you want to be teacher’s pet?”

  “I think you’re forgetting,” Richard interjected, “that ‘teacher’s pet’ got you a +60 strength helmet on our last dungeon outing.”

  “You know what?” Slothfart said as he whacked me good-naturedly on the back. “You go see your profession trainers. Have fun, then come have a drink with us after you’re all good and schooled up.”

  “You got it,” I said, and left them arguing over which seedy pub check out first.

  I walked amongst the throngs in the street. It really was a giant crush of humanity – and every other race you could possibly imagine. Orcs, goblins, humans, dwarves, gnomes, lizard people, bear people, wolf people, dead people like me –

  And a blood elf with Crimson hair who appeared at my elbow.

  “I was wondering when you were going to ditch your friends,” Arkova said.

  I looked at her in surprise. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “I’ve been tailing you the last 30 minutes.”

  “But it’s the middle of the day. What are you doing here now?”

  “Introducing you to the actual mission you’re going to be doing for us. It’s important enough that I got clearance to do it during work hours. Follow me.”

  She led me through a series of streets, down cobblestone alleyways, past shops of every description and type, until we reached what resembled a Middle Eastern bazaar. There were stalls and canopies everywhere, with brightly colored cloths making the marketplace look festive.

  “Where are we?” I asked as I looked at the map.

  “There’s not a name on there,” she said, “because it’s not officially recognized by the game. But were in what’s called the Thieves Market.”

  “Really?”

  “This is the more friendly face of the criminal underworld. A lot of players who just pretend to be bad boys for kicks. There’s also a giant underground hive of nefarious activities – poisoners you can buy supplies from, assassins for hire, things like that. But the people up here in the daylight are the ones who try to put a pretty face on private larceny.”

  “Is this where the orcs are?”

  “Sort of. This is where the orcs do business. At one place in particular.”

  We came to a large stone building on the edge of the square. Out front stood a dozen men in various types of armor – some in plate, some in mail, and a few clothed in black leather. Everyone had their faces covered so that only their eyes were visible.

  “This is the Shadow Bank,” Arkova said as she gestured to the building.

  I looked around. “The guard said the bank was near a bunch of purple trees.”

  “He was talking about the real bank. Every city has a branch of the main bank that’s controlled by the central computer. It’s free to every player for basic storage up to 20 items, a
nd then you have to buy slots to store anything else. But the thing is, you can walk into any bank in any city and you’ll immediately have access to whatever you’ve deposited. The computer controls everything, there’s no chance of you being robbed, and it’s 100% safe.”

  “So why don’t the orcs use that?” I asked. “Especially if it can’t be robbed?”

  “Because the problem with the game bank is that the central computer keeps track of everything. And if they see that there are 10 billion gold pieces in one particular account, they would absolutely notify the FBI or Treasury Department. There’s a limit on transactions in the real world, where anything over $10,000 has to be reported to the federal government. The same goes for transactions within the game, too.

  “The orcs don’t want that. They don’t want any scrutiny of their financial dealings, for obvious reasons. So they use a black-market bank that basically keeps all transactions under the game’s radar.”

  “I don’t understand – doesn’t the game control everything we see around us?”

  “To a point. The amazing thing about quantum computing is that it’s able to create objects that can exist independently of a computer constantly keeping track of them.” Arkova pulled a gold coin out of her purse and held it up. “As soon as I put this coin back in my bag, it gets tracked by my personal account – and by the computer. But if I leave it on the ground, it’s not tracked anymore. Anybody can pick it up. And the game doesn’t actually know what the hell happened to it unless it’s deposited in a bank, put back in my purse, or is used in a transaction with another vendor – or someone else picks it up and puts it in their purse. Until that point, it’s a free-floating object.

  “A group of criminals decided to exploit that. They created physical locations within the game where they house money and anything else that anyone wants to store, exactly like a bank in the real world. It’s just that the central computer can’t track what’s kept inside their storehouses. As you can imagine, there’s a certain type of clientele that is very interested in storing items in these places, without having the prying eyes of law enforcement looking over their shoulders as they deposit funds.