by Adam Drake
Assessing the monster gave me pause. He was more powerful than me but not by much. Still, given everything I'd been through, giving up wasn't an option. We fought for nearly an hour. He, with is club and innate Cyclops abilities (like the One Eyed Death Stare), and me with sword and bow.
My Shadow class granted me Shadow Form, the ability to effectively turn almost invisible. When he swung at me, I'd activate my Shadow Form and dodge away, only to reappear and strike at him from a different angle.
It was going great for a while, too. Despite the Cyclops' near infinite reservoir of hit points, I'd chipped away at his health until it dropped to roughly fifteen percent remaining. Then disaster struck – I got cocky. Which, it turns out, is a fatal mistake when dealing with an Elite monster.
I'd fired a Dazzler arrow that temporarily blinded him. But, apparently, the Cyclops race has a strong resistance to blinding attacks – go figure. When I switched to my sword and ran in close for a final kill-strike, the Cyclops had recovered. The towering humanoid dropped his club and, before I could even react, clapped his meaty hands together.
The result of using the Thunder Clap ability sent out a concussive wave which threw my little avatar pinwheeling across the clearing to splat against a tree.
My view-screen distorted to simulate being nearly knocked out and disoriented. When my vision cleared, I found the Cyclops towering over me and massive obsidian club descending fast.
I tried to roll out of the way, but not fast enough.
Now I stared at a death screen. Something I hadn't experienced in what felt like ages. Years, even.
With no more fight to engage in, I masochistically scrolled through the combat log at the bottom left of my view-screen. Here was a detailed statistical account of the fight. Just from these messages alone, things had looked good for me.
Vivian Valesh strikes Elite Cyclops in the left leg for 220 hit points of damage.
Vivian Valesh hits Elite Cyclops with an arrow in the right shoulder for 125 hit points of damage.
And on, and on it read with similar messages, all showing how I'd bled away the creature's hit points to almost nothing.
But then there was the final message.
Elite Cyclops crits Vivian Valesh with Obsidian Club of Smashing. Elite Cyclops critical damage bonus is x 5. Vivian Valesh takes 3,500 hit points of damage.
Vivian Valesh is dead.
3,500 hit points of damage. Yup, that killed me alright, considering I only had 800 to begin with.
I sighed and sagged back in my simulation suit its rigging and attachments pulling at my body. Normally my view was of the game's world and moving about in the suit went unnoticed. But confronted by the blackness of character death, its apparatus felt more prominent.
Now what? I thought, trying not to sulk.
Death meant I had to start all over again. Never mind the time wasted trying to locate the Lost War Banner of Y'Godda. All the progress my character made attaining levels over the years had been wiped out in one fell swoop of a crit-charged obsidian club.
Such is the fickle nature of playing the game.
Restarting my character meant suffering time in one of the dreaded newbie zones, areas filled with simple quests designed to coddle new characters through their first few levels.
I silently cursed myself for being overconfident. The image of the club filled my vision.
My frustration had gotten the better of me. I even considered slipping out of my simulation suit and just walking away from the game. (Sacrilege!)
But I was an addict. Even in death, I needed my fix.
I gave the view-screen my full attention. Sensing my eye movement the game faded the death message away in preparation for bringing up the character creation screen.
But it didn't.
Blackness, like a void, stared back at me.
I wiggled my fingers and made gestures with my hands. Nothing happened. Did the game get hung up? Although an incredibly rare event, the game did bug-out on occasion, sending players back to their login screens.
But no login screen appeared.
After a few moments of finger karate and arm flapping, I decided to make an angry call to Customer Support. But before I did, a new message appeared before me.
Amara Frostwalker has used a Ruby of Resurrection on you.
Do you wish to be resurrected? Yes/No?
Stunned, it was all I could do but stare at the screen. A resurrection. What are the odds? Me, way out in the middle of nowhere all on my own and someone walks by and offers to save me.
Amara Frostwalker? Didn't know this person as far as I could remember. But I'll remember now.
I selected Yes.
The blackness of my view-screen dissolved away.
Blue sky filled my vision, and I realized my avatar was laying on the ground. An elven woman's face peered down at me.
“Hello,” said the elf. “You should be okay now.”
I sat up, blinking in amazement.
“Wow,” I said and jumped to my feet. “Now this is a first.”
“A first what?” asked the elf. “First time dying, or first time getting killed by a Cyclops?”
“First time being resurrected,” I said with a smile. Then I looked about in alarm. “The Cyclops?”
The elven woman pointed to the edge of the clearing. A large body was splayed out on the grass. Its huge eye stared sightlessly into the sky.
“How did you kill him?” I asked while checking the icons on my view-screen. Health was at maximum and no indications of any permanent damage.
The elf shrugged. “While he was smashing your head with the club, over and over, I snuck up and back-stabbed him. Took him out in one go.” She smiled impishly. “It was easy because you'd taken his health down so low.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for that. And for resurrecting me. It was such a surprise. I'm not use to the kindness of passing strangers. Most players are pretty hardcore.” That was an understatement. Considering how high the stakes were in this game, you had to be really motivated to save another player. Especially when it might mean you could die, too. Instead of one person being sent to the newbie zone, it could easily become two.
The elf woman nodded and looked a little nervous. She said, “I'm Amara Frostwalker, by the way. But you'd already know that now from the system message.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “I'm Vivian Valesh, pleased to meet you. And I really mean that.” I laughed a little more and as we shook hands, I got a better look at her.
Like me, she was a Shadow class character, only her race was elven. She wore a nearly identical outfit as me; hooded cloak, leather leggings and vest. But unlike my solid black garb, hers was a muted gray, with different tones.
Across her back was a quiver which was full of arrows. On her thigh was a sheathed short sword. She stood a head shorter than me with a narrow frame which was typical elven bone structure.
Her eyes were a bright emerald green, with hair a snowy white which was pulled back under her hood.
“No worries,” Amara said. “It's not every day I get to rescue a legend.”
“Legend? Me?” I said, taken aback.
Amara's expression changed to one of disbelief. “Yeah! You're Vivian Valesh, the Shadow who defeated the Demon King and got the Legendary Cloak of Shadows.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “That.” Uh-oh, I thought. Did I have a groupie on my hands?
Amara beamed. “And you killed the Ogden Trite! The richest and most powerful player in the entire game.”
“I'd argue against him being the richest and most powerful. But I'm sure he thinks that. And still does.” I am not a Player Killer by heart, but Ogden Trite had put me in a position where I had to take action. Lucky for me, it worked out in my favor.
Amara nodded with enthusiasm. “Your exploits are all over the net. Engraved forever in the wikis, too.”
Not sure what was expected of me I decided to make her an offer. “Let me pay you back for the Ru
by of Resurrection. It's the least I can do.”
Amara shook her head. “No, not at all. I didn't buy it. It was a random drop on a Daily Quest awhile back. Just never had the need to use it until now. I'm a solo player, mostly.”
“Cool,” I said. Well, that would save me a huge pile of gold I couldn't really afford.
Amara suddenly said, “I've gotta run, so I'll leave you to your quest.” She turned to walk out of the clearing and into the forest.
Before she left I asked, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
Amara paused at the tree line. “Sure.”
“Why'd you do it? Why'd you save me?”
The elven woman raised an eyebrow in thought. Then said, “Because you never know when helping someone else might pay off in the future.” And with that, she vanished into the trees.
Huh, I thought. Okay, sounds reasonable. Kinda. But a little strange. What she had done was big, yet she wanting nothing in return.
I shrugged and turned to look at a large stone door set within a nearby outcrop of rocks. The door's surface was covered with a magical barrier which rippled like a rainbow as sunlight played across it.
My elation of being brought back to life morphed into an equally thrilling feeling: accomplishment.
This was the end of my long quest chain, the final stop. Had the stupid Cyclops not nuked me, I could claim to have finished it all on my own. But who was I to argue with luck? I stepped around the corpse of the Cyclops and stood before the sealed door.
With an outstretched arm, I placed a hand against the barrier. Having completed all the steps necessary to get here, I was now allowed to pass. The barrier dissolved at my touch. Gears thunked and turned from within. The stone door then slowly opened, sliding to one side and disappearing into the rock itself. A dark passage presented itself.
Finally, I thought. If nearly being sent to the newbie zone was the cost of getting here, then so be it. Totally worth it.
I crossed the threshold, then stopped. Something wasn't right.
I spun around to look back outside at the clearing. Grass and trees swayed with a breeze.
For long moments, I waited and watched. Nothing changed. Eventually, the corpse of cyclops faded away, the game's way of cleaning house. Bodies of opponents and monsters did not rot as they might in the real world. Of that I was grateful. I'd be responsible for a lot of dead bodies cluttering the ground across the gaming universe. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands, even.
I shook my head. There was nothing. I was just on edge after having my head crushed.
I followed the passage deeper.
It opened up to a large cavern, and I paused, stunned.
The entire floor was covered in skeletons, more than could be counted. Some were clad in armor while others clasped swords. They formed a macabre carpet of death. And each one held out an arm and pointed with a skeletal hand to the center of the cavern.
There, upon a rocky rise, stood a banner flag which billowed from an undetectable breeze. A shaft of sunlight fell from a hole in the ceiling to envelope the banner, causing it to emanate with a magical glow.
The Lost War Banner of Y'Godda.
“Sweet,” I said, impressed with the ambiance. Talk about a cool room to hold the final quest item. Gotta love it when the developers go the extra mile to make the game feel even more special than it already was.
A row of skulls formed a pathway through the skeletons from where I stood to the banner. With a quick look around I cautiously walked across it, wary of a trap.
I crossed and soon stood before the banner. Nothing happened. No traps, no worries. Time to cross off another quest from my quest log.
I sheathed my sword, grabbed the banner's wooden pole with both hands and pulled.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, I pulled again. The banner didn't budge. Not an inch.
What the heck?
I looked down to see someone else was also grabbing onto the banner's wooden pole with two hands.
I gasped in surprise. It was Amara
She'd dropped out of Shadow form and grabbed the banner the same moment I did.
“What the heck?” I blurted. Why was she here, and what did she want with the banner?
Amara's face contorted with anger. “This is mine, FILTERED. Let go of it!” My language filter kept me from hearing the colorful and nasty words some people threw at me.
Amara tried to pull the banner away, but it held fast, stuck in the rocks.
“This is not yours,” I said, confused. I tried to pull the banner away from her, but it still didn't budge.
For a few moments we both feebly tugged at the banner but it did not yield to either of us.
Frustrated with this nonsense I decided to unsheathe my sword, but was struck with a thought.
What would happen to the banner when I let it go? Technically, it was the final item to obtain in my quest chain, but could it still be claimed by Amara? She'd grabbed it the exact moment I did, and as a result the game hadn't assigned the item to either one of us, yet.
“What the heck do you think you're doing?” I said, anger flaring in my chest. “This is my quest item. I earned it.”
Amara, still holding steadfast to the banner, tried to kick at me with her closest leg. I blocked it with a knee.
“Open world quest, FILTERED,” she said, almost spitting out the words. “Why should I spend weeks trying to finish a stupid quest chain when I could just wait for an idiot like you to finish it for me?”
She kicked again, and I blocked it.
Unfortunately, she was right. This quest was open to anyone, and so its quest items were available to any other player. They didn't need to follow the entire quest to get the reward, they just needed the items.
This was an item based quest. I needed the Lost Banner to take to the final quest giver to get the reward. But Amara hadn't bothered to do the quest herself, she wanted to steal the final item and claim the quest reward for herself, without doing any of the work.
Then it hit me.
“You resurrected me so I'd open the sealed door!” I said, almost shouting.
Amara laughed, like a witch's cackle. “You dumb FILTERED. Now you figured it out. Well done, FILTERED.”
She certainly had a potty mouth, and the more we kicked at each other and tried to wrestle the banner free, the more likely I was going to start swearing, too.
For several moments we kicked at one another, and Amara would punctuate each one with a filtered curse.
This was ridiculous. The moment either one of us let go of the banner, the game would assign it to the other.
What could I do? Wait until one of us had kicked the other to death?
Turned out I did not have to come up with a solution. As chance would have it, the solution presented itself.
The cavern suddenly brightened, and a large figure materialized next to us.
Both Amara and I paused in our kickfest to look in amazement at the new arrival.
A dwarf stood next to the banner, frowning at us. He was clad in heavy white armor. A voluminous red beard hung down to his waist where twin hand axes were tucked into his belt.
Although surprised at his appearance, it was the name above his head which caused me to gasp in surprise.
Y'Godda the Warrior King (Spirit)
“Oh, FILTERED,” said Amara.
Y'Godda's frown deepened. “What do we have here?” he said, his baritone voice echoing around the chamber. “Two adventurers are trying to claim my banner? Yet, only one may have such an honor.”
He looked between us. “Who shall it be?”
Not realizing the spirit was asking rhetorically, Amara blurted out an answer. “Me! It's me that should have it. The honor should be mine.”
Y'Godda turned to fix his ghostly eyes on me.
Figuring he wanted an answer, I said, “I have been seeking your banner for a long time, sire. The quest has been difficult and fraught with peril. It was by my hand that th
e magical seal on the door to this place opened. Only the rightful quester could do that.” I swallowed hard when he didn't immediately respond. “The banner is mine by right.” I finished.
Y'Godda's eyes bounced between the two of us in contemplation.