by Domino Finn
I considered that. Trafford was the first real NPC I'd had a conversation with. If you could call what we had a conversation. But he seemed real enough. He seamlessly answered our questions. The fact that he had a personality on top of that was flat-out impressive. I'd always thought Kablammy programmers were posers, but the company must've attracted some real talent to achieve this.
Before long, Trafford stomped back into the room and dropped two sacks on the counter, one large and one small. "Here's your virgin kit," he said gruffly. "You should already have a knife, unless you've managed to lose it, but there are a couple of tools and some goods in here."
I kept my mouth shut and grabbed the big bag. If the tutorial had allowed me to lose items, Trafford would've been right.
"This pathetic sack here is your coinage," he said. "Don't get excited. It's only a few silvers. Not nearly enough to buy whatever vaunted bullshit you think you'll be wearing by day's end."
I grabbed that bag too. The items disappeared as they were absorbed into my inventory. I thanked the shopkeeper and went into my menu for a look.
"Not in here!" snapped Trafford. "I don't tolerate loiterers and slack-jaws."
"We were just headed out," said Kyle, clamping his arm around me. "Don't be too hard on Talon, Trafford. I've got a good feeling about this one."
"I get good feelings in my trousers when I visit the Scented Ladies, but I don't blab on about it."
We bit down giggles as we pushed outside. I had to admit, the guy was growing on me.
0100 Saints Row
The rest of the shops were more of the same. We stepped into a few but didn't browse too closely and kept our interactions with NPCs to a minimum. Besides weapons, armor, and equipment, there were clothiers and novelty shops and bakeries. Much of what could be purchased was somewhat useless strategically, status items for displaying around your house or around your neck. There were even premium versions of food and drink that did cost money. Kyle explained that having a healthy economy necessitated frivolous spending and recreational purchases. In a world of grinding and looting, it made sense for there to be limitless ways to spend your spoils.
The cross streets that divided the Foot and Front Street into separate blocks ran past the shops over bridges crossing the river walk. It was finally at this point that we left the Foot and headed into the city proper. To our west was a large wooden gate—open double doors that allowed access past Stronghold's impressive walls. We passed an oblong racetrack that was walled in like a low stadium. Kyle called it the Circus and said chariot races and other events were held there, but it was expensive to attend and he'd never bothered.
I forgot about the business of the rich and checked into the business of the poor. As we headed to the center of the city, I went into my inventory and opened my welcome kit.
[Welcome Waiver]
Gratis admission to the Pleasure Gardens.
[Flint and Tinder]
The tools to start and stoke a campfire.
[Torch] x2
Provides 1 hour of light.
[Sleeping Roll]
Grants the partial benefits of rest when used in the wild.
[Health Vial]
This tincture will restore 40 health over 30 seconds.
Ramped Cooldown: 10 minutes
[Spirit Vial]
This tincture will restore 40 spirit over 30 seconds.
Ramped Cooldown: 5 minutes
Ugh. Noob kit was right. The contents weren't exactly garbage but, besides the potions, the loot was only of minor utility. Kyle explained how health and spirit potions had a ramped cooldown, where the effects of repeated use of like items were anywhere from drastically reduced to completely useless. It was Haven's method of combating substance abuse, basically making sure deeper pockets didn't necessarily translate to infinite health and spirit.
Speaking of which, I did a silver check while I was at it. 13 pieces. It didn't seem like a lot based on my limited window shopping but it wasn't worthless.
I was increasingly feeling small and unimportant in this new world. The thought first occurred as I pondered my meager possessions, but then I realized the buildings around us had become more grand, to the point of gloating, almost. Heavy stonework. Two and three stories. The shops here were organized more like a permanent bazaar, an outdoor mall of connected space along a central cobblestone walkway as wide as a freeway.
"This is the Forum," said Kyle. "The center of commerce and civics in Stronghold." We weaved around other players in the street. "The best merchants selling the best wares in the city are here."
It wasn't overly crowded, but some shoppers did patronize the stores. "How can players afford anything right after a wipe?"
He shrugged. "Hell if I know. Most of them must be making plans or looking for quests. I also suspect there are stashes of silver or ways to make money much faster than I know about. In a week this place will be a madhouse. You'll see."
The wide corridor of the Forum continued some distance. Amazingly, the buildings grew larger and even more stately. These were the wonders of ancient Rome. Grand columns lined the path, each with red and yellow banners. Statues of half-clothed men and women stood high overhead, painted black and white.
The thoroughfare ended with a large building with a rounded dome. Six Corinthian columns, more massive and impressive than the others, lined up three to a side leading to the doorway. The figures atop these pillars had wings and were painted gold.
"The Pantheon," said Kyle. "Home of the saints. Well, I guess they don't really live in Haven, but they work through here. Believe it or not, this is where they held your orientation."
I was awed by the sheer magnificence of the palace. The domed building had an entrance portico with an arched roof. At its crest stood another golden statue. "What's inside?"
"Who knows? Us mere mortals don't get to go inside without a special invitation. Unless you wanna try your hand with the city watch."
Two guards marched across the steps to the portico. I figured it was a worth a shot and took a step toward them. Kyle grabbed me.
"Whoa, whoa. I was kidding. You don't wanna try them, bro. You'll just embarrass yourself."
I gazed at the grand dome and the high doorway and the columns leading up to it. Six columns and the roof. Five figures. "Why are two statues missing?"
"The Golden Seven," noted Kyle. "Or Seal Team Seven, as I like to call them. I hate to break it to you, but they're not statues. They're angels."
I watched them in stunned silence. I knew they were just ones and zeroes, not actual heavenly angels, but they were awe inspiring nonetheless.
"Angels are the real security force of Haven. Screw the watch. These bad boys are heavy-duty AI muscle. They only come alive when game-breaking events threaten Stronghold."
"I'm afraid to ask what the absent couple's up to."
Kyle looked around conspiratorially. "No one really knows for sure, but Trafford likes to brag when we drink. We hung out last night after the wipe. You could imagine how slammed he was, running the welcome shop and all. He had to blow off some steam."
We wandered away from the columns in case the holy watchers could hear us. "What did he say?" I asked in muted tones.
"He thinks there was a raid on the Pantheon. Says a few players snuck in and tried to access the core code. Word is all three terrorists were permanently deleted."
"I thought that was impossible."
"It's supposed to be, but apparently angels are the only in-game system that can do it. Not even the saints have that power. But here's the thing: angels are governed by complex checks and guidelines. Even with whatever threat the terrorists caused, only two of them activated. They must still be out tying up loose ends. I've only been here a month, but I've never seen anything like it."
We strayed into a side alley on our way out of the Forum. Marble arches loomed on either side of us.
"What did the terrorists do?"
"I don't think they did anything. But
they're infamous in Stronghold. They call themselves the Fallen Angels. Get it? Of course, they aren't really angels. None of the players are. The Fallen Angels were no match for the real thing. Trafford witnessed an active angel once and said they don't screw around."
"That's some story," I admitted. "Could it all be a world story line? Game level quests to unite players under?"
"Nah, bro. You know I'm not into game lore. This is the real deal. That's why it's so interesting. See, yesterday's wipe was unscheduled. It wasn't supposed to happen. If the Fallen Angels were part of the game story line, why would the wipe be necessary?"
I nodded.
"Me and Trafford figured it was done to avoid another attack."
I furrowed my brow. "Interesting. After permanently deleting the Fallen Angels, what does a wipe accomplish?"
"It resets all player progression."
I nodded. "That would imply there are more terrorists out there."
"Right on, bro. It's intrigue like we haven't had before. I don't take this game stuff too seriously but the Fallen Angels are hardcore."
As we cleared the Forum, the roads became more tangled and haphazard. Most of the structures reverted to single story, leaving us with a long view of Stronghold. I could see the hill where our house was in the distance, but it was partially obstructed by the monstrous Colosseum. Unlike the Circus track, this building was round, not as long but much taller. The only thing in the city that stood taller was Dragonperch.
"You're checking out the Arena." Kyle whistled out air. "Serious business, bro. That's the one place in town players are allowed to fight. I mean really fight. All the gloves come off. You get your armor bonuses, your weapons. All your skills are usable. People go in there to settle scores."
"Sounds harsh."
"It can be. I mean, the whole thing is set up for arranged duels so in theory it's not that bad. You respawn after the battle without missing a hair on your head. But I've seen some cruel stuff go down in there. City-wide public shaming."
I snickered. "You could afford those tickets, huh?"
"The Arena's open to anyone who wants to watch. Or fight."
We stood there with our hands on our hips, considering the gigantic structure. I wondered if I'd ever make it in there one day.
"There you are, frat brat!"
A husky voice caught us gawking at the Arena. We spun around to see an imposing figure in plate approach.
"Oh, great," muttered Kyle.
The dude was a good seven feet tall and wearing a matching set of heavy armor. The steel helmet, shoulder plates, and other highlights were brushed white and fitted over a chain mail tunic with shiny black straps. The name above the knight said [Lash] and it was clear to anyone with sense he was a soldier.
"How the hell did you get full plate already?" whined Kyle.
"Shut up, poser." The full helm concealed his face, but enough expression came through. The two eye slits lowered to Kyle and seeped disdain. Lash's voice echoed within. "I see you found a new friend. Wonder how long that's gonna last."
I arched an eyebrow. The voice was deep and heavily distorted but... "Are you a woman?"
The helmet swiveled my way. "More woman than either of you can handle."
Lash removed the full helm. Our LARPer friend turned out to be a Mexican woman in her late twenties. A small gold hoop cinched the outside of her right eye and a diamond studded her left nose. Her dark hair was pulled tight into a ponytail which was curly and hung to her shoulders. Bleached highlights streaked through the bramble.
Her makeup, too, was dramatic. Rose-petal-pink lipstick and black eyeliner and eyelashes. The dark lines extended outward from each eye in menacing stripes.
"Oh... Lash. I get it."
"Shut up," she snapped. "I don't know you but if you hang out with this loser, you're clueless."
"We're roommates," said Kyle.
"Yeah?" she mocked. "You ladies gonna have a tea party and trade beauty tips?"
It was an odd point to attack considering her ensemble.
"I have an idea," she said. "How about you tell the noob the shitfucker way you went and got killed?"
Kyle zipped his lips and backed up a step. Lash leaned down and shoved her face into him, making him back up even more.
0110 Bully
"Hey," I said. "Wait just a minute. You might have a nice set of armor and be level whatever but—"
"3," she said. "Didn't your guide here tell you how to examine people yet?"
I checked her again. In addition to the name [Lash] I now noticed [Level 3 Knight].
"Crap," said Kyle. "She already has a class kit."
"What's a class kit?"
Lash snorted. "Classic. This incompetent buffoon would've told you what a class kit was except he's never been level 3 yet so he's never gotten one. He's a loser who doesn't know how to quest. Weak. He can't handle the game."
I scowled. The irony wasn't lost on me. In the real world, people dressed in armor were the ones likely to be picked on by brainless clowns looking to score cool points. Kyle was a drinker, a frat boy, and—frankly—he didn't get fantasy. Not that he fit the bully stereotype, really. He was more of a live-and-let-live sorta guy. But seeing him the target of harassment puzzled me. It also pissed me off. No one deserved to put up with that crap.
I pushed forward into Lash, which wasn't as intimidating as I'd hoped because she was a good foot and a half taller than me. "What are you, the big bad bully? You're not impressing anyone, Lash. Nobody cares."
"Bully." She snorted. "You girls learn that word huddled in your safe spaces in your fancy liberal colleges? Fuck you."
"Stronghold's non-PvP. You can't hurt anybody in here, so all you're doing with your chest pumping and neck flexing is looking like an idiot."
Kyle slapped his hand to his head. He clearly wasn't happy with my choice of words. Lash only laughed.
"Noob here thinks he's safe, huh? Well, I just saw you ladies wetting your panties looking at the Arena. I've been daring this one to meet me face-to-face for weeks now. I bet even you know his answer. Maybe you'll have a different one?"
Lash crossed her plated gauntlets over her barrel chest and stood tall. Her pink lips fixed into a slanted smile, waiting expectantly for my answer. She was a formidable figure. And let's just say I was thankful Haven didn't include certain bodily functions.
I fired back with the first strategy that popped in my mind. "This is how you get off? Challenging brand-new players to duels before they've even had a chance to grind?"
She scowled. Maybe her armor didn't have chinks in it, but her pride did. "Course not. PvP's blocked until you choose a class kit, anyway. Probably why this pansy never gets that far. Go kill some mobs. When you're level 3, you're putting your puny weapon against mine in the Arena. If you're still hanging out with this douchebag."
Lash slammed her helmet back on. The eye slits lasered me a warning. "If you come to your senses and kick him to the curb by then, well, maybe I won't have a problem with you, noob."
She shoved forward through Kyle, forcing him to retreat awkwardly. As she stomped away, he released a nervous hiss.
"You shouldn't have stuck up for me like that," he said.
"Screw that. She has a lot of nerve."
Kyle nodded. "I get it. And I... I understand, Talon."
I smoldered and watched the white knight leave. "Understand what?"
"You know. If you don't wanna be my friend anymore."
"Screw that. We're roommates. If anyone deserves to be ostracized, it's her. What's her problem, anyway?"
Kyle glumly kept his head down. It was clear he didn't like talking about it. In truth, I didn't either. I'd never really had a problem with bullies before. Growing up had brought me face-to-face with occasional asshats, but serious cases were few and far between. Passing and irregular, like bad gas.
Lash? She was something else entirely. She was a sad after-school special.
I stomped toward the Arena, in the
vague direction of Hillside. I hoped what little I said was comfort to Kyle because I didn't want to dwell on it anymore.
The city of Stronghold was built haphazardly. The large landmarks made sense, more or less, but everything in between was a sprawl of huts and hovels; domes and walls; stone, wood, mud—you name it. The smaller roads winded and dead-ended abruptly. Some had names like Via Argo, Via Tempo. Others were unlabeled. The buildings, without the booming economy of the marketplace, lacked the fancy frescoes and brightly painted highlights of the Forum. As a result, everything blended into a homogenous sprawl. Without the notable landmarks marking the destinations, it would've been all too easy to get lost in the slums.
I ground my teeth as we followed the road. People roamed the streets with horse carts. Haggard women tended brown land. For a simulation, it was strangely moving.
"Spare a silver?" came a voice at our feet.
I eyed the man over. His face was hidden under the brim of a straw hat, his body folded under a filthy robe. The man's feet were blistered. The only other flesh he showed was an open palm reaching out to me.
"Uh, sure." I poked into my inventory, produced a shiny coin, and placed it in his hand.
It disappeared into his sleeve. "Much obliged, kind sir."
I nodded and waited. When it was clear the interaction was over, I said, "Wait, that's it?"
The straw hat tilted my way. "What's it?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I thought you were gonna offer me a quest or something."
"Quest?" I caught sight of his wispy beard and chin. "I'm not an NPC. I don't offer quests."
"Any priceless artifacts then?"
He looked at me like I was crazy.
"A turkey leg?" I hedged.
Kyle shook his head. "What's with you and turkey legs?" he whispered.
I sighed. "Well, at least offer me some golden advice or something. I'll even take useless advice. You know: 'You need a dungeon key to open locked doors.' Something like that."