by C A A Allen
My plan had been simple. Use the superior power of my school’s new computer and my own hacking abilities to trick games into giving me virtual currency I could sell at discounted prices on eBay for real money. It would be a win-win situation for me and my fellow gamers. And I was only going to do it until I had enough money for a new computer. I had only needed three hundred more dollars when the network administrator had called me into her office. I still don’t know how she found out that I had bypassed her security measures. But the hammer had been solidly dropped on all my scholarships.
I’ll never let myself do something that stupid again. And the worst part of it was, I had to repeat my twelfth-grade year and graduate in the same class as my little brother.
I run my hand across the top of the parcel. “This just may contain what I need to win Blizivision’s prize money and make my dorm payment.” I might have graduated late from high school, but I am determined not to repeat that for college.
“Good,” Mack says. “Because we’re in this together. All of it. College and the great beyond.”
I know what he means. We have agreed to apply to all the major software companies as a design team after graduation. Mack might be annoying, but we work well together.
I tug on the package’s twine, but it barely stretches.
Mack slides me a pair of scissors. “I would say you should go after Mileena, but I’ve never liked her, and you know it. She’s all wrong for you.”
My heart is pounding through my chest, but not for Mileena. Mack is kinda right about her. She may be one of the prettiest girls on campus, but she doesn’t treat people well. I think, deep down, I’d been hoping she’d break up with me so I didn’t have to break up with her.
“You heard her.” I shrug. “She quit me.” And said my dreams are going nowhere. That’s the wrong thing to say to me. I was raised not to let anyone talk down my dreams. I’ll be damned if I let that start now.
I stare down at the label on the package and the New York postmark. I won’t have much time for a girlfriend after I open it anyway. This package is from Kurht Knaud himself. Only the first four players to reach level nine were slated to receive it. And now that Kurht is dead, I’m probably the only player to get one.
“This might have a clue to unlock the goblin chamber puzzle,” I tell Mack.
“You mean the goblin chamber glitch?” Mack opens the door to our mini-fridge and looks over the contents. The fridge sits on top of an old end table in the spot a regular-sized refrigerator stood before it stopped running. Lucky for us, a neighboring student had an extra mini we could borrow.
I hack at the twine. The scissors are about as effective as a butter knife. The blade finally cuts through and whacks into my finger. Blood bubbles from the cut and drops onto the table. “Awwww, damn. Where did you find these dull-ass scissors?” I fling them across the room where they lodge into the wall.
Mack covers his mouth, but it doesn’t stop his laughter. Drink spews from behind his hand. “You might need a tetanus shot with that cut.”
“Shut up, fool.” I dress my wound in paper towels, secure it with clear tape, and return to the package. “Okay, here we go.” I tear off the paper and rip the top open. Packing peanuts barely cover the piled items and glittering swag filling the box. A deadly calm fills me—as though my body isn’t sure how to process the potential of this moment. “Look at all the stuff in here. It’s the deluxe fan package.”
Mack digs a hand in and pulls out a round gold disk. “A pocket watch? Or is this the Golden Compass?”
So, it’s true. I grab the disk from Mack’s hand. “This is not an Alethiometer. This is a Grimoire.” I push a small button on the top with my thumb.
The lid flips open, and a screen lights up with a red dot in the middle.
GRIMOIRE BETA - SERIAL NUMBER 05
SYNC INTO A DCQ PLAYERS DEN COMPUTER TO START
TOUCH HERE TO BEGIN
●
I thought these things were just a rumor. But they’re real, and I have one in my hand.
Mack pushes my shoulder. “What does it do? Touch the red dot.”
“This is the DCQ developer’s latest gaming peripheral. Not only does it hold my player stats, but it also contains access to new abilities, weapons, equipment, and items. Magical items. Things I know can help me unlock the puzzle.” This is a dream come true. “Mack, I’ve been chosen as a Grimoire beta-tester. All I have to do is sync this thing into one of the developers optimized computers to unlock the goods.”
I’m a tester for a new element of my favorite game. The one game I’m really good at, which also happens to be offering a cash prize that could pay for my dorm room and school.
I close the Grimoire and slide it into my pocket, not willing to part with something so important. It takes all my willpower not to throw on real shoes and sprint to the DCQ Players Den then and there.
A folded piece of paper protrudes from the top corner of the peanuts. “What’s this?” I pull out the sheet and unfold it. It’s the DCQ game map—The Kingdom of Fear. The map’s layout is burned into my brain, but I never tire of looking at it. The Kingdom’s topography is laid out like a giant quintuple fidget spinner. The City of Cittadella is in the center, and five points of interest are located at the end of each prong around it—The East Dungeon, The North Caves, The West Labyrinth, The Town of Chittor to the Southwest, and Parts Unknown to the Southeast.
“A map? Lame.” Mack flicks a packing peanut off the kitchen table. “They come in every game box.”
I rub a corner of the map with my thumb. “But the one that comes in the box is regular paper. This is vellum.”
I look the map up and down. “There’s some weird hand-written annotations on this map,” I point them out to Mack. Two notes written in green ink: A-Sampir and B-Taguban. “They could have been added by the developer himself.” I can’t wait to fire up the game and check these map points out. I re-fold the map and put it in my back pocket.
Mack pulls a bronze coin from the box. It has a three-legged frog on its face. “This is cool. Can I have it?”
“Hell no, you can’t!” I smack the top of his hand, pinch the coin, and rip it away. “This is DCQ swag. You don’t want to get glitch on you, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” Mack pulls his hand back. “I just like the coin.”
“This coin, along with a secret password, gains entrance to a private room called The DCQ Players Den in Los Angeles. The entrance to the room is hidden in a LAN gaming center called The Spirit & Game.” This is my chance to see the den, sync the Grimoire into one of the optimized computers, and obtain information I need to unlock the puzzle. I pull out my phone, open Google Maps, and enter the starting point: University of California, San Diego.
Now, where am I going? I dig into the box and pull out a strip of blue raffle tickets with The Spirit & Games address on it, enter the info into my phone, and get the route information. It’s just a two hour and twenty-minute drive. But how to get there? Man, I hate not having a car.
“Good luck with all that.” Mack heads to his room.
Wait. Mack has a car. Not a reliable one, but a car nonetheless. I have to talk him into taking me. “We should go. It’s just a short drive from here to The Spirit & Game. We can be there in just, uh, an hour or so,” I lie.
“Nah.” Mack slurps his drink. “I have zero interest in some geeky club house. And why go all the way to LA? This is the digital age. Everything is on the internet. We shouldn’t even have to leave this room.”
“It’s not a club house. The DCQ Players Den is a private gaming suite.” How does this not intrigue him? “Not only does the den contain the developer’s special optimized computers, but word is it has a corkboard filled with hand written notes by him, and—get this—it also contains the DCQ world server. It would be an honor to get in there and see all that stuff!”
Mack crushes the can in his hand and shakes his head. “As much as I love server architecture, I don’t wa
nt to see the world’s glitchiest one. Besides, you only have one coin, I won’t be able to get into this den.”
“But you will be able to get into the gaming center. And once we’re in the center, we’ll finagle you into the DCQ den. You know how we do it.” I look over the raffle tickets and my eyes widen. “Hey, these are food and drink tickets.” I hold up the strip and dangle it in his face. “And each one includes an hour of free gaming. Never mind about The DCQ Den. We are going to be in a state-of-the-art fiber LAN gaming center with free food, drinks and game play. They even have a bar there. You just turned twenty-one last month, and we haven’t really celebrated yet. If you drive fast enough, I’ll even treat you to some Roscoe’s on the way. That Carol C. Special got one succulent breast, and for sure one delicious waffle.”
“Free drinks and Scoe’s? Let’s go.” Mack struts into his bedroom. “But you have to drive back, cause I’m gonna be drinking. And you gotta pay for the gas. And there better be some naughty nerdettes there.”
I pump my fist and scramble to change out of my hobbit slippers.
“Wait, don’t you gotta work today?” Mack calls.
“I got the work thing handled. Just get ready.” My boss has given me an ultimatum: next time I show up late, I’m fired. But I can’t pass up this opportunity. It’s way more important than burger flipping.
I walk past the bathroom on my way to my room and remember the ring. If I leave it in there, I might forget it. I step into the bathroom and look in the toilet bowl. A swirling brown vortex has what looks like a burnt corndog spinning in the middle.
“Ugh.” Somewhere in this slurry lies a gold-plated, limited edition, Tengwar inscribed ring that took me six long months to run down. I feel like Frodo at Mount Doom. How could Mileena do this to the pseudo One Ring?
I return to the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards. Surely, we have something I can use to fish out that ring. Would salad tongs be too much to ask for? Or even a slotted spoon? I dig through a drawer filled with sticky ketchup and soy sauce packets and pull out a set of nine-inch disposable chopsticks.
They just might work.
I return to the bathroom, roll up a sleeve and position the two sticks between my fingers. I don’t care how long this takes. I am getting my ring out of this pu platter.
CHAPTER 3
My head flings forward. I open my eyes and grab the back of my neck. “What the—”
“Wake up.” Mack turns the radio knob to max volume. “This is my song. I love LA radio stations.”
I squint at the road in front of me. “Where are we?”
“Between Normandie and Western.” Mack pulls down the sun visor, accelerates, and cuts into the right lane. “And deep in LA traffic. I decided to pass on Roscoe’s and go straight for our drinking destination. We should be at your Spirit & Game place in just a few minutes.”
A few minutes. Yes! I don’t really have Roscoe’s money, anyway. I pull the Grimoire from my pocket and run my finger along the embossed spiral pattern. With this, and snooping around The DCQ Den, I will be that much closer to unlocking the goblin chamber puzzle.
“So, what’s the password?” Mack asks, exiting the freeway.
“The password to what?” I flip the disk over and try to decipher the fine script on the back.
Mack weaves into the left lane, floors it around a trash truck, and then cuts back to the right. “What’s the password to enter the private DCQ den?”
“Oh, it’s ‘Kurht sent me.’” I pull the disk in close, finally making out the fine print, despite the rattling of Mack’s rickety car. UNIT 5 of 7. Five-of-seven? I don’t get it. Only the first four players to reach level nine were supposed to get one of these, and I got number five. Who has the first four? Was the developer able to send out six and seven before he died?
“That’s not exactly a brilliant password,” Mack slams on the breaks, shifts into reverse, and backs into a parking spot between two cars.
I slide the Grimoire back in my pocket. “Doctor Kurht Knaud was not only DCQ’s developer, programmer, designer, and director, he was also an accomplished neurologist.”
Mack twists his key up and down in the ignition several times. “Argh, come on.” He yanks and the key comes free. “And yet Doctor Kurht made a glitchy game,” he adds, goading me.
I ignore him, get out of the car, and look over the storefront. A polished metal sign, with the words The Spirit & Game punched out, is mounted on a red brick wall above the door in front of me. Two blackened square windows on either side have bright neon signs in them. The one to the right says Southfarthing Frogmorton Ginger Beer. The left says Internet Bar & LAN Gaming Center- Free Wi-Fi.
This looks like something Kurht would do. A vintage brick front with modern metal and neon highlights. The old meets the new.
“Word online is Kurht lodged a Javanese dagger into the ceiling above the bar here,” I tell Mack. “The last person to touch the thing was a freakishly tall girl. She had to have it, after drinking a few cocktails, to cut her steak dinner. The girl couldn’t pull the dagger out of the ceiling but was able to write down some numbers she saw engraved on the pommel. Those numbers gave her a small lotto win the next day.”
Mack jumps up on the curb and stretches out his arms. “Lotto win, my eye.”
“Check it out, Mack. I believe the password to enter the goblin’s chamber without triggering the killer smoke is actually the numbers engraved on that pommel. I told you, I’m in Kurht’s head.”
“Out of your mind is more like it.” Mack opens the bar door and waves me in. “After you, head doctor.”
The deep but narrow room is dim and cool with blue neon lighting. The left side has a long bar with beer taps and liquor bottles behind it. The right has a row of computer gaming stations with oversized high-back leather chairs running the length of the room. Several players are seated on the computer side wearing headphones with boom mics. A large flat panel TV on the back wall has a giant red and blue spinning logo. NGL - The best of professional eSports live!
This is my kind of place.
I’m so entranced by the call of the nerd that I almost run straight into a vacant hostess podium.
Mack breezes past me to the bar. “No girls,” he grumbles, “but at least I can drink.”
I jog to catch up, not wanting him to be the first to step into my domain. “Look around, Mack, this is awesome. They got all the best games here.”
I look over the chairs at the first two gaming stations. The first one is occupied by a hooded gamer slumped over his keyboard, eyes closed. Empty candy wrappers and several energy drink cans litter the floor around him.
I pump my fist and smile. Finally, I get to meet some gamers just like me: people who play their favorite games so long they pass out right on the keyboard.
I look back at Mack and whisper, “This guy is knocked out for real.” I got to get one of these stations for the dorm. The game play must be amazing.
I hover over the second player in the computer rows and accidentally bump his chair. He looks up at me, scowls, and scoots in closer to his monitor. I recognize the online game menus, the grassy terrain, the wide-eyed characters.
I step back and grab Mack by both shoulders. “This guy is playing Mabinogi. A girl in China lived in an internet café for ten years playing it.”
Mack shakes off my hands. “It better not take me ten years to get my free drink. My mouth is as dry as a saltine birthday cake.” He plops down at the first bar stool. “I notice the gaming station with DCQ is unoccupied. I told you, nobody plays that game anymore.”
“Unoccupied? I’m going to go play right now.” I take one step toward the station and stop in my tracks. I’m itching to visit the new map points, but I’ve got a dagger to see, a den to enter, a Grimoire to sync, and most importantly a puzzle to unlock. I turn, sit next to Mack, and scan the ceiling. Where is that dagger? I got to have those pommel numbers.
A guy about my age, with black spiked hair and round purpl
e shaded goggles on the top of his forehead, walks behind us to a crowded table at the back of the room. He sneaks up on the occupants and pops his head over one of their shoulders. “Boo! I made it.” He points at the giant TV. “What time does the next match start? My money’s on Team Kaliber.”
Several people at the table stand and greet him with fist bumps.
I look closely at him and tap Mack on the shoulder. “Hey, I think that’s Antonio ‘Ant-Bot’ Taylor, the Let’s Play YouTuber.”
Mack leans back, looks over at the table, and returns his attention to the bottles behind the bar. “Who?”
I roll my eyes. Mack doesn’t keep track of anything in the gaming world. How can he live like that? “Ant-Bot Taylor makes gameplay commentary videos, reviews games, and plays eSports. I’m pretty sure he live-streams form the bar here on Thursdays.” And today is a Thursday.
Mack twists a dread and takes another look at the table. “I remember you talking about that dude. Isn’t he the one that blasts DCQ all the time? I’m surprised you haven’t gone over there and punched him in his face.”
I kind of want to. Ant-Bot is a big part of the reason my game gets badmouthed. His show is cool though, so he gets a pass. Besides, I can’t hold it against the little folk for not being able to enter the goblin’s chamber. Their bitterness comes from their own stunted stamina. I turn my attention to a monitor behind the bar showing a live League of Legends eSports gaming match.
A thin man with box-frame eyeglasses drops two napkins in front of me and Mack. “Welcome to The Spirit & Game. My name is Anton T., at your service. What will it be, guys?”
Mack points to a row of taps and licks his lips. “An IPA would be wonderful.”
I look over at a shelf of gaming supplements and spy my favorite. “Frag Fuel for me.” I pull the drink tickets from my pocket. “We have these.”
Anton scrunches his lips and mumbles, “Kurht continues to drive me out of business.”
“Did you know him?” I blurt, ripping off two tickets. Time to start gathering information.