Ghouls'n Guns

by Jared Mandani

  “How can we complete the mission in these conditions?” he asked, his voice shaking as his heart began to hammer once more. “We can’t recover with med kits; we would need rest and proper medical care, and we haven’t got the time. How can we fight through the warlocks after what those ghouls did to us?

  “What the hell was the server thinking of, sending us in there?” he finished, cursing the game.

  “It was thinking of me,” the newcomer said. “I am an Oracle, and my name is Francis.”

  “Good,” Zeke muttered, trudging to them with the same labored gait as those damn zombies. “That’s good. But, er… what is an Oracle?”

  Francis smiled. “I do not quite know myself, I’m afraid…” She sighed, looking all about the forest clearing. “I was once a hunter in these parts,” she said. “Before and after the rents came, before the darkness fell. That was my backstory, and I remember it all well. I was an AI, designed to take player-led characters through the woodlands when they needed it, in exchange for money or equipment. I see the whole plan laid out before me and I see my role amongst it all.

  “However, I was also the main contact with the overarching AI for the surrounding area. The server was to channel updates from me, and I was the locus of new data going in. When the server crashed, I felt it…”

  “Like Jessie,” Zeke said.

  “Yes,” Francis said. “I know Jessie and many like her. We are dotted all over the map at regular intervals. It is how the game was supposed to manage itself. And when the server crashed, it realized some of what had happened, and it understood that it had nanoseconds in which to act. It gifted me with certain knowledge and power in those nanoseconds and renamed us as Oracles. We have a part of the server’s own powers, and we have permission to aid players in the fight against the game’s new rogue elements.”

  “What happened?” Mara asked. “What caused all of this?”

  Francis shook her head. “The server did not know much when I lost contact with it. And I only had time to download a few fragments of what it did know. It believed that a rogue program broke free. It was the program tasked with designing and maintaining mods for the ghouls. Somehow, it was corrupted; somehow, it was able to take over many elements of the gaming system. And now the ghouls are mustering their forces, increasing their powers and exerting their influence. You have seen how they have modified the zombies’ coding. I believe that before the end they will learn much, their power will grow beyond what we have witnessed so far.”

  “Is there any hope?” Davidoff asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Francis nodded, smiling. “You have already seen for yourselves that the server is not entirely impotent. It is not entirely locked out. We will aid you, and others like you. The Oracles are here to grant you the strength to defeat our foes.”

  “Can you give us any new powers?” Davidoff asked. “Like the ghouls or the warlocks?”

  Francis shuddered at this request. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. The game’s fundamental coding is still in place. The ghouls and warlocks are still aberrations; they still go against the laws of nature in this place. No, I will not give you powers per se, but I will show you how to fight.” So saying, she raised her hand and all three players felt some more XP flowing into them. By the end, Davidoff had XP 483, a tremendous amount. “This is the way you are to fight: improve your natural skills, make yourselves stronger.”

  “And the mission?” Mara asked, seemingly unfazed by the new XP dump. “The plot to blow up the warlocks’ castle. Is this part of the server’s plans, and can you help us to get it done?”

  “It is a plot given by the ghouls’ program,” the Oracle replied. “I do not know why, though it is easy to guess. The warlocks and ghouls are rivals. Where the warlocks feel directly blessed by the alchemical powers in this world, the ghouls feel as though they are incarnations of its power. One has been changed, one feasts on the flesh of others, imbibing the rents’ raw power. They will go to war, no doubt. Perhaps the war has begun, and this is yet another move.”

  “So why should we blow the castle up?” Davidoff asked. “Apart from the obvious. I know we’re meant to die if we don’t…”

  “I believe that the explosion is also in the server’s interests, though I don’t know how,” Francis replied. “The server will perhaps seek to use it for its own battle plan, whatever that might be. It gave Jessie the information about the plague in the city and it told her how to fix it. Maybe it is all linked, or maybe it is ending fights before they can begin. Who knows?”

  “Can you help us get into the castle?” Mara asked, ignoring the rest. “The server said you could show us a way in.”

  “Indeed,” Francis replied. “Here is the route. I will make sure that it is unguarded, using such powers as I have.” With these words, she closed her eyes once more. They glowed brightly, and the light spread through her body. Within a couple of seconds, she burned like a beacon and then was gone.

  “Well, a fat lot of good—” Zeke began, but Mara hushed him.

  “I have a new portion of the map,” Mara said, her eyes closed. “I’m reading it now. It didn’t exist an hour ago, but the server has managed to code it into the landscape without any of the ghouls or warlocks knowing. It doesn’t give us a route… she couldn’t manage that in secret, I think… but, wait… there is a ranger who will be here in a few minutes, a friend of Francis’, and he will lead us to the beginning of the route. I believe that it will be safe enough, as Francis said.”

  “Well, then,” Davidoff sighed. “We’ve only a few hours left. Let’s go shopping, get ourselves in shape, and make our way over to this new route. Any idea how long it will take to get there?” he asked Mara.

  “Half an hour…ish,” she replied.

  “Good, then,” Davidoff said. “I’m going to get myself some upgrades.”

  ***

  He went straight into his profile screen, where his avatar was on full view alongside his stat profile and bought himself a new skill called Psychic Blank. The description read:

  Some characters react strongly to the alchemical magic of the rents in reality. They are prone to hallucinations, mutations and randomized psychic powers. Others have a natural resistance to the rents’ powers. They are called Psychic Blanks. They will mutate less easily, feel the world’s destructive magics less easily… and, most importantly, they will have a natural resistance to any psychic, alchemical or magical attacks made against them.

  This exotic skill is very useful against warlocks.

  Cost: 280 XP

  I need it, Davidoff thought. We all need it if we’re going against a whole army of warlocks. He would spread the word to the other two once he was done in here.

  After purchasing the skill, Davidoff looked at his profile:

  Agility

  93

  Melee Weapon Skill

  52

  Ballistic Accuracy

  32

  Damage

  44

  Resistance

  62

  Initiative

  48

  Morale

  78

  HP

  297 / 462

  XP

  203

  Skills

  Ambidextrous, Knife Fighter, Acrobat, Counter Strike, Medic, Psychic Blank

  This was looking OK for a brawling, player-led mission junkie. But he was about to go into war for real. The fight against the two ghouls in the clearing had brought home to Davidoff how crucial it was that he was both able to fight to perfection and survive a great deal of punishment. He had XP 203 left, and he needed to spend it wisely. This could mean the difference between life and death.

  He looked at some other skills and found a likely candidate: Tough Nut. It added +10 Resistance against melee attacks and allowed the recipient character to heal +5 HP per minute, up to a total of +
30 HP. It was designed to keep characters alive enough to finish a fight, recovering even when they didn’t have the time to use a medical kit. It cost XP 160, and he decided to go with it, leaving himself with just 43 XP leftover.

  With this, he added +2 to his Agility and +4 to both his Melee Weapon Skill and Ballistic Accuracy, costing 42 XP overall. He would fight a lot more effectively from now on. And the idea gave him a great deal of satisfaction. Before leaving, he glanced at his profile once more, smiling as he did so:

  Agility

  95

  Melee Weapon Skill

  56

  Ballistic Accuracy

  36

  Damage

  44

  Resistance

  62

  Initiative

  48

  Morale

  78

  HP

  297 / 462

  XP

  1

  Skills

  Ambidextrous, Knife Fighter, Acrobat, Counter Strike, Medic, Psychic Blank, Tough Nut

  Chapter Twelve

  The ranger arrived shortly after, pushing his way through the dense forestland towards them. “I’m Roger,” he announced, smiling placidly. He had a slightly glazed look to his eyes and a fresh face. His features were substantially less detailed than everyone else’s that they had come across so far. If anything, he looked more like an avatar from a game from ten years ago, when graphic qualities were lower.

  “I’m afraid I am a little basic,” he said, looking around at them as if he was reading their thoughts. “I was created in a hurry. I’m only a few minutes old, you see. There was no time to give me any more complete programming, but I have everything we need to get you where you’re going.” He smiled, looking a little foolish.

  He was dressed in a fur jacket with jeans and walking boots. His hair was blond and untextured. He stood at middle height, with no other discernible, distinguishing features. But he had good stats: an HP of 300, which was good for a civilian AI, with everything else a little above average, and he had a shotgun over one shoulder and spare ammunition around his belt. He would make a good ally in the coming fight.

  “For now, however, I have a little news for you from the server,” Roger told them. “You are safe in the outside world. Your bodies are being nourished and they reckon you will be unplugged in the next day or two. The main problem at the moment is sleep.”

  Blinking slowly, Roger stared at each one of them in turn. “You will need to sleep in the real world, which means allowing your avatars to go dormant for a period.”

  “But is that safe?” Mara asked. “Is it even possible?”

  “Yes,” Roger replied. “There is an alcove a five minute walk from here, a slim fissure in the rock. It’s not on the regular AIs’ maps. The ghouls and warlocks and zombies do not know about it. The main server created it a few minutes ago when it created me, and my first task is to take you there. We will be off the map, so to speak—basically invisible. And whilst you sleep, your HP will recover well enough. You will awaken refreshed, I am sure of this.”

  “Good, then,” Mara said. “Lead on.”

  “Yeah,” Davidoff agreed, nodding as Roger turned to walk through the woods, back the way he had just come from, and the others all made to follow him. “But let’s set our own watch, OK? We can take an hour or two, but we take it in turns to each stay awake?”

  “Agreed,” Zeke said as Mara nodded.

  They were at the fissure a few minutes later. It was a narrow cave set into a row of craggy cliffs, overlooking the woods. Its edges were slightly smooth and undefined, much as Roger’s whole appearance was. Clearly, it was the result of some hasty work. Inside, where they were expecting to find rough, cold rock, instead it was an average temperature and the texture everywhere was like smooth granite.

  “They made it in a hurry…” Zeke muttered, though he looked glad enough as they tramped inside.

  “Right, Roger,” Mara said. “You wait in here, with us. I’m going to take first watch. I’ll be sat just inside the cave mouth, where no one can see me. Right?”

  “Right,” Roger said. “As long as you’re even partially in the cave, you’re invisible.”

  “So, how long can we rest for?” Mara asked.

  “You have eight hours left, give or take, to complete the mission,” Roger replied mechanically. “The estimate is that it will only take you another three, maybe less. Probably less. But you need leeway should anything else happen…”

  “So let’s say two hours’ rest, then we get on with it, OK?” Davidoff asked, impatient to rest so that they could finish this damned thing. “Then we’ll have six hours and we’ll be fresh. Sound good?”

  “Yeah,” Zeke said. “So let’s do forty minutes each on watch, then swap. I’ll take second watch, then Davidoff.”

  This decided, Mara found a place to huddle in the cave’s entrance. She kept her automatic rifle across her knees, ready, and she held her binoculars in her hands. Zeke and Davidoff lay down on the cave’s floor and Roger just stood completely still, unable, due to his programming, to mimic human action as convincingly as some of his more sophisticated counterparts.

  As soon as Davidoff closed his eyes, the world disappeared. He was asleep immediately and, as Davidoff receded, David’s dreams crept up to the fore. Of course, David’s thoughts revolved a lot around the game, the world of Apocalypse and everything they had seen over the last however many hours since they had both logged on. But over the snatches of these scenes there were layered thoughts and images from his own life, his real life. He saw himself as Davidoff walking through his apartment, gun in hand, as his parents turned to zombies before him; he saw Ezekiel, small, scrawny and unkempt, wrestling great demons and losing, time and time again. His dreams were troubled and unsettled; they were over far too quickly.

  ***

  “Buddy, hey, buddy,” Zeke’s voice was saying. Davidoff heard his words and the sound filtered through the gaming systems’ immersion suit. The audio came to David, distracting him as his mind fought to stay asleep… “Come on, buddy. Hey, Davidoff, it’s your turn…” David’s eyes fluttered and the immersion deepened. Before he knew it, he was Davidoff fully. He was back in the hills, back in the fissure as dusk fell outside. Nearly an hour and a half had passed. Roger was still standing in the middle of the cave, motionless, and Mara was lying next to him, sleeping the deep sleep of the truly exhausted.

  “I’m up… I’m awake,” Davidoff mumbled, climbing up to his feet. Zeke helped him stand, then gave him a punch on the shoulder.

  “All’s been clear,” Zeke said. “There’s been no trouble out there. Everything’s normal… or, you know… sort of normal…”

  “Good, good,” Davidoff said. “Go on, then, get yourself off to sleep. I’ll wake everyone in forty minutes.”

  His stats had returned to nearly full health as he slept, his Agility coming back to him and his HP boosting up to a 398 / 462. Looking down at himself, he saw that the rents in his clothing had disappeared, springing back to new. His machete, which he had dropped somewhere during the fight, suddenly appeared in its sheath at his waist, as did his luger. His backpack became slightly heavier and he checked the ammo of each of his weapons: they had all been restored to how they were when the trio first left the military compound. This cave… there was something about this cave. The system had set it to have greater qualities for replenishing than usual. There was no way a usual break from action would replenish that much.

  Davidoff felt much better; refreshed, although not entirely. Looking at his companions, dozing off, he noticed that they had gone through the same process, much as the server had done before. The various tears in Zeke’s clothing and armor were repaired. The bruises across his face and knuckles were gone and there was color in his cheeks. His weapons were clean and new, no longer battered and dented. Mara’s b
lack eye was gone, her arm seemed fixed, no more out of joint but pliable and strong, and her hair was clean and swept back in a ponytail, not matted with blood and not streaked across her face.

  He settled himself in the cave’s mouth as Zeke let out a long peaceful sigh. Davidoff placed his Uzi across his knees and pulled out his little telescope. Using it, he scanned the trees and the hills all around, before the cave’s mouth. Everything was quiet indeed, and the minutes passed slowly. He nearly nodded off a couple of times, but always jerked awake and, for a few minutes, continued to keep watch in earnest.

  At one point, a strange noise seemed to come from Roger. It sounded like a very quiet, very subtle buzzing, almost like a hushed version of the old dial-up modem noises. Roger’s eyes flickered and it seemed to Davidoff that a light played behind them, but then he felt his eyes growing heavy once more. His head lolled and he jerked upright and all was back to normal.

  He checked the game’s clock after what seemed like an age. He had five minutes left before he was due to wake Zeke and Mara. They had five hours and fifty two minutes left in which to complete their mission, and night was falling rapidly outside. His stomach began to tie itself in knots as he thought it through, as he began to contemplate actually sneaking into the warlocks’ castle and blowing it sky high.

  He was nervous, and he was right to be. It’s not even like we’ve got the element of surprise, he thought. After all the commotion down here, after all the loud fighting we’ve been a part of, they will surely know to expect something.

  He ran a hand over his worried face. God, how can we prevail? he wondered.

  Then it was time to wake up his companions. Mara was the hardest to wake; she was very deeply asleep. It took her a moment to comprehend where she was, to realize that she was not her usual self—whomever that might have been—but the ranger Mara, stuck in a mental game and surrounded by all sorts of monsters who wanted her dead.