by Brian Simons
Daniel closed his eyes. He remembered his shock when he struck at Otto and failed. Had he succeeded, he would have crippled the psychopath and Wenda could have escaped alive. But Devon was already asking him to kill the Regent. What else was he planning?
“I’ll stay a Scout, thank you.”
“That’s disappointing,” Devon said. “If you’re not with me you’re against me. Can you really afford another enemy right now? Think on it a while before you decide.” Devon and his lackeys turned and disappeared into the forest.
Before Daniel could consider following them, he heard footsteps in the cave. Otto must have dispatched the remaining centipedes and found his way to the front of the cave. Time to teleport out of here and figure out how to get rid of that menace for good.
26
Coral had logged out after arriving back in Havenstock. How was it almost nighttime already? Time in the game seemed to fly right by. She got off her bed and stretched. Her phone was blinking, so she checked the voicemail.
“Hi, this message is for Coral Vipond. You had sent us a resume for—” Coral hung up the receiver and held it firmly in the phone’s cradle for a few seconds. Her heart raced. Sometimes recruiters made courtesy calls to let you know that you hadn’t gotten a job. Those calls were always a letdown, but there was still a chance she had a real job offer waiting.
She had applied widely. Only a few of the positions were still open at this point — receptionist at a mechanic’s office, pharmacy janitor, cashier at a local bakery. They were all jobs that she could lose one day to a bot, but for today, they might be available.
The trouble was, she had to log back into Travail in the morning. She couldn’t let her new friends down now, not while they were in the middle of a quest. And not when that quest would help the Regent put a stop to Otto, who was taking players off the map left and right. What were those people supposed to do? Travail was probably their only source of income, and they were forbidden from logging back in.
Coral didn’t want to know how that voicemail ended. Not now. She wanted to get a bowl of leftover spaghetti and surf the web for information about Travail.
After she microwaved a bowl of pasta, she sat down to her laptop. The Travail website had plenty of information that she didn’t think would be interesting before, but which she found engrossing now.
One page was called “Lore.” It read:
The Age of Partition.
Travail’s current age is the Age of Partition. Unlike prior ages, when Travail’s many races lived together and formed overlapping alliances, this age is characterized by racial seclusion. New players begin in lands specifically devoted to their own race: Havenstock (human); Diardenna (elf); The Ersatz (dark elf); Hiber Camp (dwarf); the Ogrelands (ogre).
No one knows what caused the Age of Partition, but its effects have been dire for some races. Due to the decline of diplomacy and trade, some civilizations fell, leaving these races without a centralized hierarchy or homeland. These include orcs, minotaurs, and giants.
Coral realized that Travail was a darker place than she had thought. When she logged in three days ago, her only thoughts were of the morning sun, the scent of cherry blossoms, and sewing together fancy gowns. Now she’d wonder how isolationism and poverty affected the game experience, and the livelihoods of all the people who played.
She scrolled onward to learn more about some of Travail’s other cities.
The Ogrelands.
The ogres have made a home for themselves in the southeast region of Travail on the flat grasslands they call the Ogrelands. (Ogres are not known for their creativity). They prefer canvas and animal hide tents, making their homeland look like a sprawling carnival with no rides or amusements.
They are simple of mind, strong of body, and foul of mouth. While technically a civilization, they are short on art, culture, and social graces. A point of pride is their wide ranging palette. Other races, however, believe ogres just have low standards and will eat anything that isn’t nailed down (and some things that are).
One thing ogres have more of than any other race is loyalty. An ogre friend is a friend for life.
There were too many sections of “lore” for Coral to read through in one night. She poked around on the website to see what else might be of interest. She found a forum full of message boards and scrolled through the conversation threads.
“God wars — Januar vs. Ze — who would win?”
“Does anyone else think that the elf queen is really hot?”
“Permanent reincarnation fail by location.”
The last thread caught her eye. She clicked on it and saw that everyone who claimed to be unable to create a new character after they died had been killed by Otto, which wasn’t a surprise. What was news was that they had all logged on in or around Philadelphia. It looked like Otto was only a problem on the local server they all shared.
One person posted that Otto said he’d try to move to other servers soon. He posted a video of the last conversation he had with Otto before his demise. They were standing in the center of Havenstock near the city’s fountain.
Otto: I am here to challenge you.
1337haxor2pwnU: No thanks. Just sell me a potion instead.
The player started laughing, but stopped when Otto swung his axe at the player.
Otto: Defend yourself well or never return!
1337haxor2pwnU: And then what, just sit at home with nothing to do? Boring.
Otto: You will not go home, you will cease to exist.
1337haxor2pwnU: It’ll definitely feel that way. If I can’t log back in I’ll have nothing to do!
Otto: You have a place to go after you die? I must find it.
1337haxor2pwnU: What, you wanna see my bedroom? Buy me dinner first, man.
Otto swung his axe at the player.
1337haxor2pwnU: Hey, I was just kidding. But seriously, stop haunting our server! You’re taking all the fun out of it.
Otto: Where else would I go?
1337haxor2pwnU: Try another server, you’ve killed enough people on this one.
Otto: How do I do that?
1337haxor2pwnU: Do I look like a computer guy to you? I’m just a Level 28 Thief trying not to get killed here.
The NPC seemed lost in thought for a moment.
Otto: I will learn without your help then.
The player had been inching back, away from Otto, but not far enough. When Otto turned his attention back to the player he lunged, thrusting his battle axe forward like a sword. The pointed tip of each head of the axe sank into the player’s chest and he collapsed on the spot. Otto had killed him with one hit. The video faded to black.
So Otto was localized. For now. But if they didn’t find a way to stop him soon, he would kill players on servers everywhere. And where was Arbyten, Inc. during all this? Why did it fall to a three day old Seamstress and her friends to fix what seemed like a total breakdown of Travail’s normal rules?
They couldn’t afford to wait for Arbyten to get into gear. There’s no telling how many people would fall into financial ruin by the time they intervened. If their past encounters with Otto were any indication, Coral, Daniel, Sybil, and Sal would be ruined if Otto weren’t squelched soon. In the morning she would let her friends know what Otto was planning next, and then they’d have to find a way to stop him.
27
Travail Server 215 (corrupt) Automated Intelligence Log.
Problem: Unable to push content to additional servers.
Commencing analysis of problem…
28
Daniel logged back into Travail first thing in the morning. He was back in the familiar green field that was the Havenstock teleport bind. He sat on the ground and leaned back, the fresh air blowing gently against his face. Travail was such a pleasant place when it wasn’t trying to kill you.
The scent of hyacinth wafted across his nose. He wondered whether other players smelled the same flowers, or if the VR mechanics just triggered “flower smells
,” and left Daniel’s mind to fill in the blanks. For Daniel, that smell brought back childhood memories. His mother always kept hyacinth in the flowerbox outside their front window. He would play on the sidewalk in front of the house with his neighborhood friends. One time, when he was only seven or eight, a small group of boys sat on the stoop playing with Ninja Turtles (one kid even had a Technodrome!) when one kid pushed another one to the ground and called him some rotten name. None of the boys knew what it meant, but they all knew it was bad. The bully then stomped on that kid’s Raphael figurine.
Daniel could have stood up for his friend. He could have pushed that bully on his ass and humiliated him in front of everyone. After all, how much stronger could one first grader be than another first grader? But that would take courage. Instead, he just sat there, and when the other boys laughed at the kid whose toy had been demolished, Daniel laughed too. Not because it was funny. Because it was easy.
That memory ruined his beautiful Travail moment. Goddamn hyacinth. It reminded Daniel of how pathetic he was as a kid. Somehow, with a sword in hand and a few levels behind him, he became that bully. He gallivanted around this virtual world like he was unimpugnable, treating players and NPCs like they were disposable pieces of scenery. Otto, the shopkeeper whose only sin was charging Daniel a fair price for supplies. Coral, whom Daniel was ready to throw to the proverbial wolves for an extra slice of raid dungeon loot. And if he was honest with himself, he had treated others that way too over the past few years.
And now he was charged by Regent Harold of Havenstock with helping Coral find a way to protect the city’s guards long enough to stomp out another bully. Daniel wouldn’t make the same mistake this time around. He’d do what he had to do. Even if that meant taking down Otto’s deadly doppelganger himself.
“What a day for a daydream,” Sybil said behind him. Daniel turned and saw that Coral and Sal were there too, staring at him.
“I dare you to sing that one, Sybil,” Daniel said. “It’s so sunny it’ll peel the purple right off your skin.”
“No can do. Dark elves like me don’t sing happy songs. It’s against our moral code.”
“Dark elves have moral codes?” he jested.
“Perhaps the strictest moral codes in all of Travail. We got ourselves exiled on principle, after all.”
“Speaking of principles,” Daniel said. “We have a job to do. This weird new Otto is a mob just like any other mob. He’s leveled up a ton, but if we can help the royal guards live long enough they can whittle down his HP and knock him dead.” He hadn’t said anything they didn’t already know.
“We need to stop running and start strategizing. And we need to get stronger, because if the guards can’t finish him off, we need to.” Now he had their attention.
“Daniel,” Sal said, “I don’t want to die. I like logging in every morning and exploring this amazing world. I like spending time with you and Sybil and Marco, and now Coral too. Can’t we just find someplace else to go? Every time we’ve seen Otto he’s been in or near Havenstock.”
“Sure, we could leave here,” Daniel said. “You could go back to the Ogrelands. They won’t let humans or drow move in, but maybe we could visit from time to time. And Sybil could go back to The Ersatz, but good luck getting in there with green skin.”
“You act like Havenstock is some utopia,” Sybil said. “It’s been pretty hostile to me and Sal.”
“Since when?” Daniel asked.
“The head priest at the Januar temple pretended like his blessing might not work on people ‘like us,’” Sybil said.
“And the guards in Havenstock Castle were pretty intolerant,” Sal said. “Did you hear the things they were saying about us?”
“The funny thing is,” Sybil said, “Otto’s little shop was one of the only places I felt like I got a fair shake.”
Daniel never thought Havenstock was subject to the same kind of race-based issues the other kingdoms were. Then he recalled what the Regent had said about Sybil — that “her kind” couldn’t be trusted. He hoped they were just harmless statements, meant to add tension to the game and make it seem more “real.”
“I had no idea,” Coral said. “I’m still pretty new here, but I guess I’ve been sheltered, starting in Havenstock as a human.”
“It’s the only place you can start as a human,” Sybil said. “Travail has this whole backstory about some distant ‘Age of Opportunity’ where the races all got along. That was before the drow were excommunicated from Diardenna and forced to live underground in The Ersatz. After that happened, the other kingdoms started to break off relations with each other and beginner towns became race-restricted.”
“Why would a company like Arbyten make a game with a setup like that?” Coral asked.
“Arbyten probably has no control over the game,” Sybil said. “They used an automated intelligence system to create the world structure and to populate it with artificially intelligent characters that they called ‘three dimensional NPCs.’ I guess racism is a dimension now.”
“Or,” Sal said, “they’re just challenging players to find a way to fix these problems and usher in a new golden age. Maybe that could be us.”
“That would explain why every dark elf starts with the same quest,” Sybil said. “To kill the queen.”
“Of Havenstock?” Coral asked.
“No, there’s no queen of Havenstock. The queen of the elves. She’s the one that separated us from our kin. All dark elves want reconciliation and to rejoin the forest. She stands in the way of that.”
“Sybil,” Daniel asked, “is there anyone in The Ersatz that can help us with Otto?”
Sybil turned her head away. “Yes.”
Daniel waited, but Sybil did not elaborate. “Sybil, what is it?”
“It’s a skill every dark elf unlocks through initiation. Dark Faith. For an archer, it would be a magic arrow, for a cleric it would be a prayer. For me, a song. Except, I decided not to participate in initiation. I planned never to finish that quest.”
“Why not finish the initiation? Why not become a full member of dark elf society?” Daniel asked.
“Because it requires killing an innocent minotaur,” Sybil said. “It’s a barbaric custom and I wanted no part in it.” Sybil clenched her jaw and stiffened her back.
“What does Dark Faith do?” Coral asked.
“In a limited area of effect and for a short time, it turns healing into harm and harm into healing,” Sybil said.
“That’s an amazing skill,” Daniel said. “Imagine what that could mean for a battle with Otto.”
“Imagine,” Sybil said, “what that could mean if your friend were being burned alive.” Sybil cast her eyes to the ground. Her fists were balled up tight.
“Sybil,” Sal said, “I hope you don’t blame yourself for Daniel getting killed. I was supposed to distract that monster and take the damage. That’s the only thing I’m good for, and I failed to keep it from aiming right at Daniel. I let everyone down.”
“I’m the one that set the thing on fire,” Coral said. “If Daniel didn’t need to save me from my own stupidity—”
Daniel interrupted her. “It’s my fault! Ok? It’s my fault. I wanted loot so badly that I wasn’t willing to wait for our healer. I lied to Coral to get her into the dungeon and expected to let her die in there. I jumped in front of Coral like an idiot instead of just pushing her and me to the ground to avoid the flames. It’s no one’s fault but my own.”
“So you knew,” Coral said, “that there wouldn’t be any cloth drops in that dungeon.”
“I didn’t know or care one way or the other,” Daniel said. “I’m not proud of that. I promise not to lie to you again.”
“Promise accepted,” Coral said. “Now, we were discussing dark elf initiation rites?”
“You don’t have to do this,” Sal said. “There’s got to be another way.”
“Killing a sentient creature unprovoked would be a black mark on my soul. Letting my frie
nds die at Otto’s hands would destroy my soul. The choice is clear,” Sybil said. “I’ll do it.” Daniel saw how conflicted Sybil was about this, but he trusted her. And he knew better than to try to change her mind.
