Gaming the System

by P A Wikoff

So much had happened since then, yet it had been only a couple of game days. As crazy as it sounded, I felt like a different person. It was as if those two levels I’d gained had matured me two years.

  I ascended the stairs one step at a time, reserving my stamina for the off chance that someone would try to kill me again.

  “Moogi? (There is an incoming telepathic link from Havok. Accept request?)

  “Yes. Always accept. That guy is a legend.”

  *Hahaha, that was so much fun.* Havok’s voice appeared inside my head again.

  *That was incredible. How did you get someone who looked like me on such short notice?*

  *It was me. I was trying out one of my new illusion skills.*

  *That was you? No way.*

  *All the way. Pretty great, right?*

  *Genius. How did you get away?*

  *Oh, I didn’t. They killed me pretty quickly.*

  *I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get killed instead of me.*

  *But you got to loot the corpse they were camping, right?*

  *Yes, it worked out perfectly.*

  *Then it was all worth it.*

  *I’ll pay you back for anything they took.*

  *No need. I removed all my gear and spent most of my XP beforehand. I’m on my way back to my stash as we speak.*

  *But I saw you waving a machete around. Didn’t they steal it?*

  *No, no. That was another part of the illusion. In reality, it was just a dead rat I found in the sewer.*

  Moogi and I both started cracking up uncontrollably.

  *Can you imagine their disappointment when all they had to loot off my corpse was another, smaller corpse,* Havok chuckled.

  All this laughing made me weak in my legs. I had to rest my hands on my knees to steady myself. A couple players walked past us at a safe distance, as if we had some terrible disease. I must have looked pretty crazy to anyone who wasn’t inside my head.

  *So good, man. You really came through.*

  *Yeah, well. If you have any more capers like that, feel free to link me up again.*

  “Most definitely,” I said.

  I waited a beat for his response.

  *I didn’t hear you. I’m guessing that you said something out loud by mistake.*

  *Did I?*

  Moogi nodded at me.

  *You’re right. Sorry about that.*

  *Well, I better get going. Good luck out there, and stay safe.*

  *Thanks, Havok. You too.*

  Moogi made a clicking noise with its mouth, letting me know the telepathic link had ended.

  What a stand-up guy Havok turned out to be. I couldn’t believe I had ever doubted him.

  After straightening out my clothes and stowing my weapon, we entered the mansion.

  The main hall was expansive, with high-arched ceilings that were decorated with fine art and raised sculptures. I guess that is one way to keep your art safe. The décor, however, was overshadowed by all the players. It was a bustling town crammed inside a single mansion. The sheer number of bodies made the room seem much smaller than it actually was.

  Straight away, one adventurer came up to me. “Hey, guy. Want to group up? Oh, hold up…never mind.” He quickly turned and disappeared back into the flow of traffic.

  “What was that all about?”

  I merely got a peep from Moogi, who was huddled behind my leg.

  Brushing off the rejection, I took in the whole scene. Among the humans, there were other races speckled in. Everyone was dressed up in an amalgamation of fashionable outfits and practical gear. It was like attending a cosplay convention where I didn’t recognize any of the characters. Because there were so many things happening at once, I found it hard to focus in on any one of them for too long. It was intense. No wonder things seemed pretty dead everywhere else.

  “Moogi. (Too many people.)” A thought bubble appeared displaying the room’s chat log. It was scrolling faster than anyone could actually read.

  “I think this is all of them.” I tried to get a general lay of the land—what was what and where I wanted to go.

  I must have started in a totally different wing of the mansion, because I would have remembered all this noise.

  As far as I could tell, only a few people were in gangs. I quickly scanned the room looking for any specific GDF, but their gang tag didn’t jump out at me.

  Wait, didn’t Bagmy wear a ring that hid his affiliation? GDF could be anyone…or everyone. That was an unnerving thought.

  I climbed on top of a potted tree to get a better vantage point. There was a bunch of activity going on at the far end. Against the back wall there were rows of rocks, which people were using as free weights. In a game where you could assign points in Strength, I wondered why they were bothering with voluntary workout regimens. Nobody liked working out so much that they’d do it without gaining muscle.

  Next to the weights was a row of ten or more practice dummies, similar to the one I saw in the leveling room. People were practicing their combos and other melee attacks, either solo or in groups.

  “They must be preparing for a raid or dungeon,” I noted.

  Further down the line was a firing range where players were working on their knife throwing, projectile spells, and such.

  I jumped down from my perch and looked at Moogi for answers. This was all a lot to take in. With so much to do and see, I didn’t know where to start.

  “So...what do you want to do?” My voice was drowned out by all the commotion.

  “Moogi. (Boss.)” Apparently Moogi could hear me, even if I couldn’t.

  “What boss? Wait. You’re not talking about the wooden knight, are you?”

  Moogi did a little dance with its two up thumbs.

  “I suppose we can try and recruit a party, maybe get some better gear. I think next time we should…oof.”

  I felt a slight shove in the lower part of my back, and just like that, I got caught in the current of people. Shoulder to shoulder, I was inching my way through the dense crowd.

  After a couple long minutes of getting hot and sticky being so close to people, I had to free myself. Stepping out of the flow, I peeked through a set of double-wide doors leading to the west. This room consisted of many, many smaller doors, which covered every wall of the meandering room. The entrance had a sign that read “Hall of Masters.”

  I wondered why anyone would venture outside when they could level up here. Nearly as quickly as the question came to me, I had my answer. They were not the same as the trainer I met in the Proving Grounds. They were masters. Above each door was a master’s name, and underneath their name was a crafting specialization.

  “Blacksmithing, cartography, looming, merchanting, taxidermy, knitting, farriering, logging, alchemy, mining, fishing, hunting, skinning, butchering, trapping, tool making… Okay, I can’t go through them all,” I said, remembering to breathe.

  Left and right, people were entering and exiting random doors at a consistent rate. The constant creaking and slamming of doors created an industrial soundtrack for the room.

  A couple minutes of people watching had gone by when a passerby spat at my feet and mumbled some foolery.

  “What gives?” I sized myself up and down, trying to gauge what I had done to offend a second person.

  Before I could stop the individual, they had gone—lost in the crowd.

  Just then, something caught my eye, and I got distracted. “Torch weaving? You’ve got to be kidding me. Just soak a rag in oil and put it on a stick, right?” I looked down at my company, only to see that Moogi was long gone. It was busy hopping around quite excited about all the crafting choices. I, for one, couldn’t care less about getting a job. Surviving in this world was work in itself.

  While I waited for my asset to return, I picked up an informational pamphlet that was rolled up like a scroll. It seemed that each of these crafts had to be leveled up with money, as opposed to experience points. Not only that, each class had a long list of required books and equipme
nt to go with each advancement level. This was more like a crafter’s college than anything else.

  Crafts were marketed as a great way to earn money, but from what I saw, it was just a huge money sink.

  What a scam.

  After a checking out every single door, Moogi bounded up to me, excitement in its eyes.

  “We can’t afford it,” I said, sounding like a parent telling their child to put back a toy at the grocery store.

  The next archway spilled into some sort of crafting fair or bazaar. Tables and booths were lined up in rows with players pedaling their wares or services. Above, below, and all around, signs and banners took up as much vertical and horizonal space as possible. Despite the overcrowding signage, this space was much less densely populated than the main room. I finally felt like I could breathe again.

  I saw herbalists, leather workers, enchanters, name changers, to note a few. This room seemed to have whatever your heart desired. No doubt they were graduates from the masters room before.

  “Hey, mister, are you feeling extreme?” a small voice called out to me.

  I was a little intrigued, but I ended up shielding my face and just walked on by.

  The vendors were hungry, yelling and hollering at me with their pitches and gimmicky slogans. It didn’t look like anyone was buying anything, proving my previous statement about it being a waste of resources.

  After making my first round, I went back to a booth that actually had something I needed—a healer. My resurrection fatigue hadn’t gone away since Bagmy had killed me during our first encounter, and it was really starting to worry me. What if Bagmy had some special ganker skill that messed with his victim’s fatigue? Or worse, what if I was glitched, and it never went away? I needed answers, and hopefully I could get them without having to pay an exorbitant fee.

  I approached the Handsome Healer’s booth with hesitation and waited for a patter or pitch. I got no such sales tactic or marketing ploy. Actually, I wasn’t even greeted.

  Sitting behind the table was a young rabbit person, or furry—I mean, Hybrid girl—watching over the booth. She looked soft and well groomed.

  “Uh, hello. I would like to inquire about some healing of sorts.”

  “I’m sorry, the healer isn’t in at the moment. I’m only his assistant. You can try back in a little bit,” she said, keeping her eyes down on her thread and needle, as she worked on some project on her lap.

  I felt a little awkward talking to a rabbit girl, but only because it was a first for me. She, on the other hand, seemed quite comfortable talking to, or ignoring, me. And why wouldn’t she be? Ninety-five percent of the players in the mansion appeared to be Human, and she was the only rabbit I saw.

  “Okay, thank you.” I started to turn away, then I stopped and faced her again. “Actually, maybe you can help me out. I wanted to know how to restore mana.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I summoned a portal, and now I don’t have enough to summon another one.”

  Her big bunny eyes narrowed as she pondered my request. “Are you joking?”

  “I’m not trying to.”

  With her paw, she motioned for me to come in closer. “You made a bad character, didn’t you?” she whispered, her long whiskers tickled my cheek as she spoke.

  “What do you mean?” I liked my character well enough. Sure, I wasn’t the best at staying alive, but I was learning.

  “Spellcasters should have at least five points in Psionics to gain a natural mana regeneration.”

  “How was I supposed to know that?”

  “It’s common knowledge. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Oh…”

  “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re a twet?”

  “No, I’m Seph.”

  “T-W-E-T, it’s an acronym for people who skip the tutorial.

  “What does it stand for?”

  “Tutorials Waste Everyone’s Time.”

  “Is that such a bad thing? Being efficient?” I took a big gulp and hoped she didn’t notice my nervousness. Of course she noticed; she was looking right at me when I did it.

  “Twets think they’re saving time by cutting corners, but in reality, they waste everyone else’s time with all their incessant questions.”

  I hated to admit it, but I was one hundred percent a twet—derogatory or not.

  “Let me guess. You went all Charm, didn’t you?”

  “Not completely, but I did get a little carried away with it,” I admitted.

  She leaned away from me, giving me a once-over. “A couple more advancements in Charm, and you might not be so bad…for a Human.”

  Is she flirting with me? Consciously I knew that she stood upright and could talk, but I still saw her as an animal more than a girl.

  “Yeah, but I think I’ll go Psionics. Actually, I may never put another point into Charm again. It hasn’t helped me at all.”

  “I wouldn’t discount it just yet. You should stick around for the handsome healer to return. He might sway you differently.”

  Maybe I read it wrong and she was trying to set me up with him instead of herself. I decided to change the subject further. “Why are there so many people here today? Is there a global event happening or something?”

  “What?” She asked, while pulling on one of her whiskers.

  “I mean, why aren’t they outside doing stuff?”

  “You’re new here, aren’t you? Never mind, of course you are. What am I saying? You don’t even know how to make a character.”

  My mouth fell agape. Even if she was right, it wasn’t a very nice thing to say.

  “I don’t mean it like that. Listen, twet. This is the maker’s market. It is where those who prefer to advance their non-combative skills, like…”—she held out both her paws—“…healing, like to hang around.”

  “I see. Well, what maker skill do you have?”

  “I am an artesian.”

  I gave her a blank stare.

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I make masks. That’s who I am—Olivie, the mask maker.”

  “Oh, really? That sounds great.”

  She gave me a little shrug.

  “I mean that sincerely. It sounds cool.”

  She gave me another, bigger shrug.

  “Why don’t you seem thrilled about it?”

  “Let me show you.” Reaching under her desk, she pulled out a scary-looking devilish thing. What stuck out the most was that it wore a contorted expression that made me feel uncomfortable.

  “That isn’t bad.”

  Oh, but she wasn’t done. One after another, after another, Olivie pulled out more masks, each one even more cringeworthy than the last.

  “Okay, some aren’t that bad,” I said, adjusting my previous declaration.

  “My skill level is quite high, but this is always how they come out…a bit strange. For most people, they lower the wearer’s Charm, and that’s why I haven’t been able to sell a single one.”

  I felt bad for her. I mean, she was nice enough to talk to me. So, I made her an offer. “I’ll take that demon owl one off your hands.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I didn’t want to be, but I was. “Sure.”

  “Ok. great. That will be 400 experience.” She extended her bunny paw at me, ready to make the transaction before I had a chance to change my mind.

  Man, that was more than I would have expected for a mask that lowered your stats, but I had already committed to the cause.

  “Would you accept coins instead?”

  “Absolutely. Wait…you know, if you want to ask me something, like if you should pay with EXP or coins, it is okay. I always answer questions from a paying customer without judgment,” she said.

  “No, I get how to spend money, and how rare it is around here. I just prefer to keep my experience.”

  “That’ll be 40 copper, then.”

  “Okay.”

  Again, she extended her paw out to me. “I threw something extra in for you,” she sai
d.

  “Moogi. (Olivie has sent you a friend request.)”

  With a tight grip, the deal was sealed. Now I had two friends on my list. Still, it was less than the number of players on my enemies list, but progress was progress.

  She handed me the owl mask with the utmost care. While it was the least horrific one of the lot, it still was a little sickening to look at.

  “Thanks, Olivie,” I said.

  “Thank you.” She gave me a warm rabbit smile after twitching her nose.

  With a smidge of buyer’s remorse, I counted my remaining copper. It wasn’t hard—it didn’t take long, which was very sad. Only five copper pieces remained.

  Feeling like I might have gotten suckered, I was a little hesitant about starting another conversation with a vendor whose wares I couldn’t afford.

  “People sure love their crafting, don’t they?” I said to Moogi after passing a table that made armor completely out of feathers.

  “Moogi. (I think they’re trapped here.)”

  “Trapped?”

  “Moogi. Moogi. (They don’t look happy. They look bored. It’s more like a chore to them than anything else.)

  I turned around and witnessed a vendor’s fake smile turn into a deep frown after a customer was out of his line of sight. Moogi saw things differently because no one tried to impress or even engage with it, and now I saw it too.

  “I think you’re right. I mean, if you cannot train outside without getting ganked, what other choice is there for advancing?”

  Moogi snapped its little ghost fingers and pointed at me as if to say, “Exactly.”

  Making my way towards the end of the row, I saw a sign that read “mana well.”

  “Hello, good sir. Take a drink. Only ten XP.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Restores mana, of course.”

  “Okay, give me one.” I flipped a copper at him as payment.

  He caught it with great gusto. “Be my guest.”

  I dipped my hands in the cold blue water and brought it to my lips.

  I slurped it down as if my hands were a bowl of soup. It tasted refreshing and almost electric with energy. When I glanced at my forearm tattoos, my mana was nearly halfway restored.

  “Hey, you can’t do that!” the well man protested.

  “What? But you said…” Some water dribbled off the end of my chin and back into the well.