Executioner- Reign of Blood

by Edwin McRae

  “Yup, it actually is. But I don’t feel like that anymore. Sure, I had my moments when I first came here, when all that numb grey felt like it was going to bushwack me around the next corner. Like any minute someone was going to tell me to wake up and smell the shit. But now, nothing. I feel great, and it’s all because this place gives me a sense of purpose.”

  “Then you just need to find a purpose in RL. I could help with that.”

  “How?”

  “You’re a fucking decent gamer, Mark. You’ve got a talent for tactics and you don’t know when to quit. I could feature you as a regular on my channel.”

  Such was Mark’s anxious pricklings that they now felt like Sonic the Hedgehog was rolling up and down his back. “You’re offering me a job as a streamer?”

  “Okay, mate, breathe. You’ve gone all pale and sweaty. I thought you said you felt great now.”

  Mark held up a finger, wanting Arix to give him a moment while he got his shit back together. After a moment or two the prickling eased to a dull discomfort and he nodded, ready for the executioner to continue.

  Arix raised an eyebrow but had the good grace to refrain from comment. “Yes, I’m offering you a job as a streamer. Full time and at a better rate than you’re probs getting at your current job. What is it you do in RL? Sorry, realized I never asked.”

  “I operate drone forklifts at a supermarket.”

  Arix gave him a wry grin. “I can totally do better than that, yeah. The rate would go up depending on your viewership numbers too. I could even spot you the airfare to London, if you wanted.”

  Mark blinked at Arix in disbelief. Here they were, in the middle of the Barrens, about to execute the wholesale slaughter of a small reiver army, and Arix was offering him a dream job. But all he could think about was Vari, Sid and what would happen to Garland if he didn’t complete the Chasms of Corruption quest.

  “Sorry, Arix. I can’t.”

  The executioner sighed. “That’s what I thought you’d say. So let’s get down to the nitty gritty of it, yeah?” Though his dark eyes were wide with feigned sympathy there was a hard flicker within. “You’ve got a problem, Mark.”

  “What problem?”

  “You’ve fallen in love with a bunch of dialogue trees and sensation code. No matter how much you want her to be, Vari just isn’t real.”

  Mark shook his head as the dregs of anxiety melted away, replaced by a smoldering anger. He was grateful to Jaravir’s Icy Resolve for helping him keep his cool, but still he could feel the heat rising, threatening to burst into flames.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Arix scoffed. “Fuck’s sake, you’re talking to a professional gamer here. I’ve seen enough FIVR to know that this one’s pretty flash, but under the hood it’s no different to any other. It’s digital make believe, innit.”

  “Yeah,” admitted Mark, “it looks like that at first. But if you look closely enough, you realize it’s so much more. This version of Reign of Blood hasn’t been constructed. It’s been…” He struggled to find the right word. It came to him, along with a memory, of picking wild herbs with Vari in the forest near Citadel. “It’s been ‘grown’.”

  Arix frowned and looked at Mark like he’d grown a second head. “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

  “The devs have put all the parameters and assets in place and then they’ve just set the system running, for hundreds of virtual years if my theory is correct. Vari isn’t an NPC, she’s a fully autonomous AI who has lived a complete life in this place. She was born, Arix, not made.” He pointed at the reiver camp. “Same goes for them. There are no backstories and scripts here. These people have personally experienced every single memory they have.” He picked up a piece of masonry and held it up for Arix to see. “The devs didn’t handcraft this ruin out of tile sets and shaders, this was a city that suffered a genuine apocalypse.”

  The executioner’s frown deepened. “The Reign of Blood team don’t got that kind of tech. No-one does.”

  “Not that we know of, but I think you and I have been pulled into a virtual experiment. They haven’t gone public with it yet. They’re probably still observing and testing to see if it’s going to hold up when masses of gamers pour in here.”

  Mark shuddered at that thought. He knew plenty of ethical gamers, and he knew even more who weren’t, many who would treat this place like their own personal orgy of sex and violence. He dearly hoped the developers would take that into account, perhaps profile people before they let them in. Then again, they’d let Arix in. Or had they?

  Arix voiced his thought before Mark could finish it. “If your theory is correct, and that’s a big fucking IF, then how did we get in here and why haven’t the devs booted us out?”

  “You’ve got a FIVR implant, right?” asked Mark.

  “It wouldn’t be FIVR if I didn’t. Trodes have too much lag and there’s no way you’re getting me into one of them sensor suits. Makes me feel like I’m sausage meat stuffed into a strip of intestine.”

  “I don’t know how,” admitted Mark, “but the druids must have found a way to access my Reign of Blood account and engage my FIVR implant. It’s like the system converted their summoning ritual into code.”

  “You’re saying they effectively hacked your implant by dancing about naked in some Stonehenge?”

  “I have no idea what the ritual looked like. I turned up somewhere else in Garland entirely, but yeah, that’s the crux of it. Inquisitor Karina must have achieved the same thing. Her summoning ritual was converted into a hack.”

  “Okay, I’m humoring this weird-assed theory of yours for now, mostly just to understand the fucked-up shit what’s going on in that head of yours,” said Arix. “So answer me this, Mister Amateur Virtologist. Why us?”

  “I’m just guessing here, but it probably has to do with our gaming behavior profiles. It’s not something they would publicize, but I bet the devs track everything we do in Reign of Blood, and it’ll all be tagged to our account. In their rituals, the druids and Karina would have asked for a certain type of person to help them. In my case, my play style suited the warlock class so I got picked, probably randomly, out of all the potential candidates in the Reign of Blood player database. Yours obviously suited the executioner class, so same deal for you.”

  Dark clouds had gathered over the Barrens and the moon was barely shining through. Arix leaned back against the wall of the turret and looked up at the sky. “I got an invitation from the Reign of Blood community manager, to an Easter Egg hunt. Looked completely legit so I followed the clues and they led me here.”

  “See? That was your summoning! That was Karina’s hack.”

  “Maybe, but it’s all conjecture at the end of the day. Where’s your proof, Mark?”

  Mark felt a flash of anger. Why couldn’t Arix just believe him? He took a deep breath, knowing that an outburst would get him nowhere. Not to mention the fact that he’d call the entire reiver army down on their heads if he raised his voice.

  “I only know what I’ve seen and learned from others,” said Mark.

  “Vari?”

  “Of course, yes. We talk a lot.”

  “And it never occured to you that she’s programmed to be a one woman charm offensive? That she’s an NPC what’s been designed to heighten your sense of immersion?” The mask of false sympathy returned to Arix’s face. “I’m not saying she’s doing a number on you, Mark. It takes a person to lie to another person. I think she’s just telling you what the developers want you to hear. It’s a total mind fuck and you can bet your bollocks that my lawyer will be reading the Reign of Blood small print as soon as I wake up back in London.”

  Mark’s burning anger was extinguished by a flood of dismay. What if Arix was right? Vari felt every bit the real girl, and he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone in his life. She was everything he’d ever hoped for in a woman, in a lover and friend. But he’d just told Arix that the developers would have their ga
ming behavior profiles. What if, from Mark’s profile, the system had been able to predict more than just his most compatible character class. What if it was able to estimate his preferences in love and companionship? The main Reign of Blood world was vast and he’d interacted with more NPCs than he could ever hope to remember. What if every interaction had been recorded along with his biometric responses to each and every character? Could the system have constructed a perfect mate for him out of all that data? It was possible.

  Frighteningly so.

  Arix’s expression took on a smug edge. “You know I’m right, don’t ya.”

  It was Mark’s turn to look up at the stars as he resisted the urge to punch Arix in the face. That one comment had been enough to drain the dismay from his mind, as if Arix had simply pulled the plug. His anger filled the void.

  “Where’s your proof, Arix?”

  Arix opened his mouth for a quick answer and found none forthcoming. He gritted his teeth and curled his upper lip as he struggled to come up with something. Eventually he said, “Thousands of hours of FIVR experience. Interviews with the developers. All the articles I’ve read on FIVR development and all the conversations I’ve had with other gamers. Not once have I ever come across an organically grown world full of artificial general intelligence.”

  “Ignorance isn’t truth,” snapped Mark. “Just because you don’t know it, doesn’t mean it can’t exist.”

  “Look, Mark, here’s the thing,” said Arix softly. “You have feelings for Vari. I get that. I’m sure she’s real convincing.” He stretched out his arms, encompassing their surroundings. “I’ll be the first to admit that this whole world is real fucking convincing, more than any other game I’ve experienced. But you need to take a good, long look at yourself, geezer, because I’m seriously concerned about your mental health right now.”

  “Fuck you, Arix.”

  Arix raised his hands. “Fair enough. That was crossing the line. But you’ve got to understand my position in all this.”

  “What position? That you consider everything I think and feel to be some crazy delusion?”

  “No, I think that you’re the victim of some very devious game design, and I know that I need your help to get home.”

  Arix reached forward and placed his hand on Mark’s forearm. It felt like a tentacle to Mark, like the life-sucking tendrils the Siren of the Lake had wrapped around him. He fought the urge to shake Arix’s hand off.

  “So my offer still stands,” the executioner continued. “You can come with me and have a career, a real life, or you can stay here in Neverland and play Peter-fucking-Pan.” Arix’s grip grew a little tighter on his arm. “I’ll even track down your real body for you, make sure you’re okay. You’re in a hospital somewhere in New Zealand, right?”

  Mark nodded, unable to speak, choked up by the emotions battling within him.

  “I’ll get word to you here, via the Reign of Blood devs. The risk there is that they might pull you out. It’s totally up to you. I’ll just leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

  Mark’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good man.” Arix’s tentacle gave Mark’s forearm a squeeze then retracted. “Now let’s go kill some reivers. I think we’ve both got some tension to work off after that deep and meaningful.”

  Yup, thought Mark, and nothing would relax me more than driving Volcanic Bastard through your tiny, withered heart, Arix the Damned.

  22

  [Arix]

  Arix put a bolt right between the reiver’s eyes. The scout had been stupid enough to forget his helmet. The second one was wearing a helm with a nose guard. Arix shot her in the throat.

  Your party has killed four Level 2 Reiver Scouts.

  Your XP reward per party members = 40 XP

  Your party currently consists of two members.

  It was interesting to Arix that Citadel wasn’t counted as a party member, even though he would be integral to the success of this operation. Without him they’d be stumbling blindly through these ruins, just begging to be caught. Perhaps Citadel was at the point where leveling was irrelevant. He was supposed to be several hundred years old. Perhaps the normal rules didn’t apply any longer. Not that Arix really cared. He was more than happy to keep more XP for himself.

  He loaded his crossbow while looking to where Mark had felled the other patrol behind the theater. As Arix watched, the warlock sprinted into the camp, making a beeline for the supply tent. His crossbow now locked and loaded, Arix took up a firing position and covered Mark’s flanks while the warlock impaled a surprised reiver warrior who had chosen that moment to step out of his tent. The bearded reiver had a tankard in his hand having poured himself a sly nightcap. Guts and beer spilled onto the ground as Mark withdrew his sword and let the warrior fall.

  Your party has killed a Level 3 Reiver Archer.

  Your XP reward per party members = 15 XP

  Arix heard a shout to his left. The next patrol had stumbled upon their former comrades. These two were men-at-arms, clad head-to-foot in armor. With no easy killshot available, Arix aimed for the legs, opting to wing them. His bolts punched through their cuisses and caused both soldiers to howl in pain as iron punctured their flesh. Arix found it almost touching to see the two bearded men throw their arms around each other, forming a comradely embrace to support each other as they limped into the camp.

  In fact, it surprised him. He’d never seen mobs behave like that in any other FIVR game he’d played. That sort of intuitive scripting was far beyond what he’d seen in previous Reign of Blood versions. Maybe they’d expanded their dev team, added some behavior psychologists or something. A little voice at the back of his head wondered if Mark was right about this AGI malarky. He gave it a mental slap and told it to shut the fuck up.

  Other soldiers popped out of their tents to see what the two wounded reivers were bellowing about. They were just in time to see Mark breathe a plume of fire into their supply tent. It hadn’t rained since Arix’s arrival in the Barrens. The dry canvas and rope caught fire immediately. The entire tent was ablaze in moments.

  The more quick-witted soldiers drew their weapons and charged at this firebug of an intruder. Mark mouthed “Ethereal Mist” and melted away into a cloud of dark vapor. He was soon indiscernible from the black smoke that was now billowing up from the burning tent.

  Arix ran towards the theater, following the route that Citadel had described to him, the one that would lead him to the stream. He rock-hopped his way across the rubble around the theater and then wove through a short stretch of streets, coming out at what had once been a wharf. A stone pier stretched out into the river, a stopping point for the trading barges and rowboats that would have plied these waters before the apocalypse.

  He caught that thought and squeezed it to death. There was no history of river trade and no fucking apocalypse. That was all back story. This city had been a ruin since the first day it was constructed in the Reign of Blood studio.

  He focused on his surroundings to prevent any further rumination. Using his passive Buzzard Eyes ability, he peered into the shadows. With Hound Scent he sniffed the air for any traces of danger. That’s when he caught the faint whiff of dog hair and blood. He spun about, wide-eyed, just in time to catch sight of a shaggy shadow before it melted into the darkness. His Fox Ears picked up the scratch of claws on stone and the soft pant of exertion before they were lost in the rising din of the nearby camp. He was alone again. This particular Barren denizen had decided that Arix was more bite than it could chew. Just as well. He would be inundated with reivers in a minute or two. The last thing he needed was a random monster encounter messing up their carefully laid plans.

  An old stone warehouse overlooked the pier. Arix clambered up one of its intact walls and perched on the edge of the collapsed roof. He loaded his crossbow and watched out for Mark. The warlock arrived soon after, coalescing into human form almost directly below Arix.

  The execution
er performed what he hoped was a convincing bird whistle. Not that he’d taken the time to observe the local avians to hear what noises they made. It would probably stick out like a ram’s bollocks to any reiver acquainted with the native flora and fauna. Mark looked up, gave him a thumbs up, and ducked into the warehouse. There was no way to reach Arix’s perch from the inside. The staircases were long gone. The warlock was just finding cover.

  They didn’t have long to wait. Soldiers burst out of the ruined streets and headed straight for the water. With much shouting, cursing and jostling, they formed a rough line and began the arduous process of filling and passing buckets of water. They’d clearly been roused in a hurry. While all had managed to don their weapons, most had neglected to wear their armor.

  This is going to be easier than I thought, mused Arix as he took a bead on the reiver closest to the river. The bolt hit the woman between the shoulderblades. Judging by the way her legs crumpled beneath her, how she flopped haplessly into the water, the bolt had severed her spine. The man beside her died as he reached out for the bucket that the woman could no longer pass. Arix’s bolt punched through his temple.

  Down below, Mark charged out of the warehouse, shouting “Second Skin!”, “Arcane Edge!” and “Terrifying Manifestation!” in quick succession. A half dozen reivers shrieked and dropped their buckets, some covering their eyes as if attempting to block out some horrific scene. Mark cut them down with Volcanic Bastard, dropping all six soldiers in as many strikes. The poor bastards didn’t even try to run, so absorbed were they with their own nightmarish visions.

  So much for all your talk of treating these mobs like humans, thought Arix with an inner smirk. He then clipped his crossbow to his shoulder, unlimbered his axe, and muttered “Chopping Block” before leaping off the wall. He targeted the biggest, ugliest and most heavily armored reiver in the vicinity, a hulking woman-at-arms who looked to be a couple of levels higher than anyone else there. He was rewarded with a metallic crunch as Solmora’s Bite split her helm. Then came a mixture of screeching and squelching as the axe tore through chainmail and sundered flesh. The resulting halves toppled their separate ways, hitting the ground with a couple of wet thuds.