Sentenced to Troll

by S. L. Rowland

  His fingers run along the bricks before abruptly stopping. He presses against a single brick and it slides deeper into the wall.

  A secret entrance!

  The brick recedes and a door seems to form in the wall, opening into another dimly-lit cavern. The hidden entrance closes behind us as we step through.

  Old Edison bulbs dangle from the ceiling, their light bathing the tunnel in an eerie glow. I follow the two men in suits through a labyrinth of brick tunnels for what seems like forever. We could be anywhere under the city by now. Eventually, the dungeon-like atmosphere morphs into something more industrial. The concrete floors smooth out, the old bulbs are replaced by white neon lights, and the aged brick walls become painted cinder blocks. At the end of the hall, a metal staircase winds upwards next to an elevator.

  The two men stop in front of it. It looks like we might actually be able to use this one. One of the men flashes his ID card in front of a proximity reader next to the elevator and the doors whoosh open.

  What could possibly be so important that we have to go through this much secrecy?

  The doors close rapidly after we step into the elevator. There are no floor numbers for the men to press, but the elevator begins to move all the same. My legs give way slightly as we ascend at a rapid pace, and then just as suddenly, we stop moving.

  The doors open, and I find myself looking into a pristine laboratory, whiteness engulfing the room. The floors, the lighting, and even the walls are white. The four of us are like specks of pepper in a salty landscape.

  Men and women in white lab-coats shuffle about the room. They carry digital pads, making notes and checking figures. One lady bends down, inspecting one of several pods in the center of the lab.

  I suddenly notice that there are people inside the pods.

  Full immersion.

  Ignoring the three men who brought me here, I step further into the lab. They don’t say anything or try to stop me. There must be two dozen pods, each one occupied. Those inside are completely submerged in a blue liquid. They look peaceful, asleep almost. Video feeds display their movements in the game.

  “Mister Johnson,” says a silky-smooth female voice. A brunette woman in a tight high-necked blue dress appears to my right. It’s modest, but clings so tightly to her body that it leaves nothing to the imagination. She can’t be older than thirty. Much too young to be running an operation like this. “Welcome to Mythos Games, the part we don’t show the public.” She looks oddly familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve seen her. She winks at me, then turns to the men who brought me here. “Adams, Franklin, Roosevelt, I think I can handle it from here.”

  The men nod and leave. I wonder which one is Mr. Secret Agent.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  She flashes me a smile. I’m sure her pearly-white teeth have been the downfall of many men.

  “This is R and D.” She waves her hand through the air, putting the laboratory on display. “Research and Development. The next wave of Mythos Games.”

  “And why exactly am I here?” It doesn’t make sense why I am in some highly secret technohub for a crime that would land me a year in prison max. There has to be more to it.

  “Follow me,” she instructs, taking me across the lab to a white desk near the wall. It’s oddly neat for a research department, with only a computer and keyboard. “Have a seat.”

  I take a seat, and she sits across from me.

  “You’re here because you were a bad boy.” The way she says it has me feeling like she is toying with me. She bites her lip, and I feel blood rushing to my face. “And because your parents happen to know some very influential people.”

  So my parents can call in a favor, but they don’t have the decency to call me. Typical. I could have spent a lot less time over the toilet if I knew this was an option.

  “And them?” I point to the other pods in the center of the lab.

  “They’re even worse than you.”

  “Worse than me?” Who is this woman?

  She leans forward, her dark brown eyes gazing into me. “Each of those men, all twenty-four of them, are in prison for violent crimes. We have an agreement with the state of New York that allows us to use prisoners to test out the effects of rehabilitative gameplay while in full immersion. Each of them volunteered to play Isle of Mythos as a hero to see if it would cure their violent tendencies.”

  “Has it?” Nobody mentioned anything about other prisoners. I mean, it’s not like they could actually hurt me, could they?

  Her smirk has me on edge.

  “It looks like you’re about to find out.”

  2. Into the Pod

  “Why me?” I lean against the hard back of the chair. Even if my parents did manage to call in a favor to someone, this is next-level technology. There are twenty-four pods, maybe a few more I haven’t seen. How am I being punished but also lucky enough to be able to test out the next wave of gaming at the same time? There have to be people who would volunteer, no questions asked, for this type of experience.

  “The simple answer is that we wanted a gamer in the mix,” says the beautiful brunette who still hasn’t told me her name. “Someone to test the boundaries of our creation. We knew from the get-go that your case would be found guilty. Not that many gamers wind up in prison.”

  “So, what, am I not actually being rehabilitated?” I mean, I’m perfectly fine playing a game for a month with no consequences. What I really want to know, though, is why prisoners?

  She leans forward and flashes me a dangerous smile.

  “Oh, everything the judge said is true. You will most certainly experience what it feels like to be attacked, to be bullied, to be persecuted for simply being what you are. We have embedded a deep history in Isle of Mythos, and trolls are hated like no other. In time, you will find out why. But that is not to say you won’t have any fun. This is a game after all. There will be quests and crafting and all the adventure of a traditional RPG, but it will be more real than you have ever experienced. You will feel pain, but you will also smell, taste, and experience everything as if you were actually there.”

  “Pain?” I interrupt. How in the hell is it legal to put criminals in a simulation where they can be hurt? Isn’t that torture?

  “Absolutely. That is one of the things that separates full immersion from traditional VR. If you get stabbed, you feel it. Luckily for you, trolls have a thick hide and a higher tolerance for pain. Plus, we set the pain settings at fifty percent to make things more bearable.”

  “What if I don’t want to do it?” I challenge. Maybe being an outcast that everyone hates isn’t something I want to partake in.

  “You go to prison,” she says matter-of-factly, as if that solves everything. “Now, unless you wish to go to prison, I suggest we get started.”

  I don’t want to go to prison. She stares at me, waiting for a response. Her smile never falters, and her vibrant white teeth mesmerize me. They are almost too white. Unnatural. What other choice do I have? I know people who would pay good money to be in this testing phase, pain included.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Valery Barrett. Anything else?”

  I shake my head. All that’s left is to see what this is actually about.

  “Now if you don’t mind, please follow me. The next several hours will be spent gathering your vitals and running tests to make sure your body can handle thirty days of immersion. You look like a healthy kid, so I don’t foresee any problems.” She leads me through a door at the other end of the room, down a hallway, and into a waiting room. It’s really no different than one I might see at a doctor’s office, minus the posters for erectile dysfunction and heart disease. The walls here are white and bare. Just like everything else in the lab.

  Barrett. That’s the last name of the owner of Mythos Games. I suddenly remember where I have seen her before. It was at a ceremony after the last season of League of Mythos. She was sitting next to John Barrett at the head table. Is s
he his daughter? Niece?

  Valery disappears, and over the next several hours, I have my vitals taken. They draw blood, take my temperature, and stick me with an assortment of cold medical instruments in places I wouldn’t let my mother touch me. I run on a treadmill, sit quietly, look at ink splotches on a piece of paper. It all makes me feel more like a lab rat than a prisoner.

  I’m pretty healthy, except for asthma and acne. Part of me wonders if I would still be approved even if they found something that disqualified me? It’s like she said, though, gamers aren’t just lining up to go to prison. Maybe if they knew this was the punishment, they would. Even if I’m not a professional gamer, I still make my living playing games, so I’m probably a hell of a lot more useful than some of the players they have now.

  It definitely makes me wonder why only convicted criminals are in this stage of the testing. Maybe because they know we won’t be able to talk about it?

  After my visit with the doctor, Valery shows up and takes me back to the lab. “Are you excited to see what you’re going to be getting into?”

  I nod.

  “Well, first, we need you to sign the non-disclosure agreement. Once you get out, we can’t have you talking about everything you’ve seen in here.”

  I flick through the legal jargon on the tablet and sign my name before being led back to the pods.

  There’s a new pod added to the end of one line, except it is black and the others are all white. It’s sleek and beautiful, looking more like a spaceship than a gaming machine. The glassy surface reflects a distorted picture of my face back at me. My greasy black hair and obnoxiously large nose seem comical. In my peripheral, Valery’s curves are only more emphasized in the glass. I still can’t comprehend why she is here. Maybe she has some expertise, but at that age, it seems unlikely. She presses a button on the side, and there’s a hiss as the pressure equalizes and the lid to the pod slowly rises.

  “We’ve added a few updates to the newest model,” she says.

  Inside, a translucent blue liquid fills the pod.

  “What’s in the liquid?” I ask. There’s an almost radioactive glow to the substance.

  “That is what makes all of this possible. There are millions of tiny nanites that report feedback from every inch of your body, inside and out. This will be the most realistic gaming you will ever experience. They will clean you, feed you, and caress you ever-so-gently. They’ll take better care of you than your mom or girlfriend ever could. Go ahead, touch it.” She motions to the liquid.

  I’m hesitant, but I do it anyway. Reaching my hand into the pod, I expect the liquid to part around my fingers like water, but when I submerge my fingers, it’s like it molds to my skin, changing density in an instant. Then suddenly, it’s like I’m touching nothing at all. The temperature of the liquid has mirrored my own perfectly. I pull my hand back and the nanites release as if they have no viscosity whatsoever.

  “Pretty amazing, huh?” She gives me those seductive eyes. Dark brown and full of mystery. “The nanites are like a second layer of skin. They form to your body, mimicking the resistance you feel in the game. They can contract and expand in a fraction of a second. They will allow you to taste, to smell, to feel. Essentially, they will replicate the gameworld around your body. The difference between the game and reality will be indistinguishable.”

  “And what if I have to go to the bathroom?” It’s a silly question, but I don’t want to be swimming in my own filth for a month.

  “There is a state-of-the-art filtration system. As soon as the nanites detect a change in their habitat, they attack the invader and flush it out of the system. Sweat, dead skin cells—” She pauses. “—other forms of waste. It’s all filtered out immediately. The environment in the nanite gel is a thousand times cleaner than most hospitals. They will also be responsible for your breathing and nutrient intake while immersed.”

  “So, what now?” I ask.

  She closes the lid to the pod and it locks into place. “Now, we get you in the game.”

  One of the technicians brings her a package and she hands it to me.

  “I’ll need you to change into this,” she says, handing me the package.

  I open it and find a pair of silky white underwear inside. They remind me of the tighty-whities I wore as a child. I guess she senses my consternation at stripping down to my underwear, because she comments on them.

  “Apparently, no one likes getting naked in front of so many people, so we had these made. They are constructed from a special material that doesn’t interfere with the nanites. There’s a bathroom over there where you can change. Leave your clothes by the sink and we will have them put away and waiting for you when your immersion is over.”

  “Don’t I get to look through the game manual or anything?” I ask.

  “Where’s the fun in that? You’ll find out everything you need to know as you play the game.”

  In the bathroom, I take off my gray suit jacket and lay it delicately on the counter. So much has happened today that I’ve hardly had a chance to process it. As I take off each article of clothing, it almost feels as if I am shedding my old skin. The skin of a streamer who lost his cool one too many times. For a moment, I just stare at myself in the mirror. In real life, I’m a skinny nobody, but online, I’ve always been a giant among men. With quicker reflexes and a better understanding of game mechanics than most, I never had a problem excelling at whatever games I played. I take a deep breath. This will be no different. Prisoners or not, this is my element. I’ve always enjoyed playing the characters no one else touches—the ones labeled weak and ineffective—and using them to wipe the floor with my opponents. It doesn’t matter what they throw at me, I’ll be just fine.

  I put on the tighty-whities. My new skin. I have no idea what my new skin will become in the aftermath of my sentencing. It’s much too soon to tell, but I have a feeling the next thirty days will be the basis.

  If I want to continue to play games at a professional level, then I have to be able to control my emotions, even under stress. If what they say is true about Isle of Mythos, then this’ll be a very real test.

  I leave my clothes on the marble counter and meet Valery back out in the lab. The chill of the room nips at me and goosebumps prickle along my body.

  Truth be told, I’m nervous. Who wouldn’t be at least a little nervous knowing they are about to be trapped inside a game for thirty days with felons convicted of violent crimes? Yes, the whole purpose of the game is to let them play the hero in the hopes of rehabilitating them, but when I’m their sworn enemy…I don’t know what to expect.

  “Ready?” Valery asks, her voice as seductive as ever.

  It’s time to quit stalling and either nut up or shut up.

  “Let’s do it.”

  As the technicians prep the pod, I get into my normal pre-game routine. I tune out the outside world and drift inside my head. I can see them working, but I’m not watching them, not really. Heavy metal blares inside my head. A montage of some of my greatest battles plays out before me. I sling fireballs as a wizard at an oncoming goblin mage. Our spells collide in a maelstrom of ethereal energy. As a stealthy rogue, I teleport behind an elven archer and slit her throat. One of my personal favorites was when I played as a damage-based support and cast an ultimate healing spell on a vampire, exploding him into red mist.

  A peacefulness washes over me as the chaos replays in my mind. The only thing I’m missing is an energy drink and a bag of chips.

  “Mister Johnson.” Valery motions toward my home for the next thirty days. “Please step into the pod.”

  Some of my confidence has returned and I wink at her as I slide into the nanite gel.

  “Please, call me Chad.”

  She laughs. I don’t know if it’s because of my sudden boldness or the absurdity of it, but it doesn’t faze me. I submerge into the blue liquid. It’s only cold for a split-second before the nanites mimic my body temperature. The door to the pod closes with a hiss, an
d more nanites begin to flood in. I can see Valery leaning over the pod, her features clouded by a blue haze as the nanite gel covers my face.

  When I can no longer hold my breath, I give in and the nanite gel flows into my lungs. I’m not sure what I expect, choking maybe, but it’s not this. The nanites coat my lungs and it’s like I’m breathing on a misty day where the rain is so thick that you can’t help but take it in with every breath.

  Valery waves at me, and suddenly everything goes black.

  I don’t know how long I sit in the blackness, seconds or minutes, I’m not sure. My heart beats in my eardrums and the rasp of my own breathing are all that I know.

  Gradually, the blackness fades. A tiny dot appears far away in my vision and begins to grow. It grows and grows until I realize it’s a planet. A planet with blue oceans and green continents. Not that different from Earth except that the landmasses are all the wrong shapes. I zoom through the atmosphere and the green continents develop different hues. There are sandy deserts, snowcapped mountains, lush dense forests. My vision focuses on a particular continent floating all alone.

  It’s longer than it is wide, and a rocky mountain range separates the continent in two. The camera halts and the words Isle of Mythos appear atop the continent in letters carved from stone.

  3. Character Creation

  The logo fades away and is replaced by something I know all too well. A character creation screen. Epic instrumental music has me ready to click randomize and hit the ground running. Except there is no randomize button. I’m also not playing this entirely for fun. The judge wants me to play to better myself. Valery and Mythos Games have their own unknown reasons. Personally, I don’t want to be tortured by a bunch of murder hobos just because someone told them they should hate me. I’m going to make the strongest character I can right from the start.

  A forest green, lumbering troll rotates in the center of my vision. A flat face with two gigantic tusks jutting upwards stares back at me. Blue freckles adorn its wide nose. Pointy ears protrude from both sides of his head, where two long, black braids dangle down each side and drape over his massive shoulders. Each shoulder is covered in patches of rough walnut skin, almost rock-like in appearance. He holds a wooden club in one giant hand tipped with razor-sharp black claws that it occasionally lifts, sending ripples through its thick, bulging muscles. A loincloth is the only clothing he wears.