by Alexis Hall
[Group][Efthalia]: she’s got long red hair and sort of looks like an elf anyway
[Group][Aconite]: When you say friend?
[Group][Efthalia]: no seriously just friends
[Group][Efthalia]: I think that’s why she hangs out with me
[Group][Efthalia]: It’s quite hard being a girl on a game art design course
[Group][Aconite]: I can’t imagine there’d be that many of them
[Group][Efthalia]: girls or courses?
[Group][Aconite]: Hee, both.
[Group][Efthalia]: Yeah just us, Teesside, Anglia Ruskin, Southampton Solent, and the UCA I think.
[Group][Aconite]: Who’s us?
[Group][Aconite]: Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to
[Group][Efthalia]: no its cool
[Group][Efthalia]: Leicester
[Group][Aconite]: University of Leicester?
[Group][Efthalia]: lol no I mean de montfort
[Group][Efthalia]: but we always call it leicester
[Group][Efthalia]: cos de montfort university sounds crap
[Group][Efthalia]: and simon de montfort was a total dick
[Group][Efthalia]: he like threw all the jews out of leicester
[Group][Aconite]: :(
[Group][Efthalia]: its like going to the University of Davros
[Group][Aconite]: Omg you just made me lol
[Group][Aconite]: And now I feel really bad
[Group][Efthalia]: sorry
[Group][Aconite]: :)
[Group][Efthalia]: so where do you go?
[Group][Efthalia]: i mean you don’t have to say
[Group][Aconite]: It’s fine
[Group][Aconite]: I, um, actually go to the University of Leicester
[Group][Efthalia]: omg
[Group][Efthalia]: your totally looking down on me now aren’t you?
[Group][Aconite]: No!
[Group][Aconite]: I wouldn’t.
[Group][Aconite]: I promise.
[Group][Efthalia]: its honestly the best place that does this course
[Group][Efthalia]: except Glasgow
[Group][Efthalia]: but I didn’t want to go to Scotland
[Group][Aconite]: I really don’t care what university you go to
[Group][Efthalia]: but Leicester’s like a proper university
[Group][Efthalia]: and you do a proper subject
[Group][Efthalia]: you’re like way too smart for me
[Group][Aconite]: :(
[Group][Aconite]: Don’t say that
[Group][Aconite]: A uni is just a uni
[Group][Aconite]: And you study what you like and what you’re good at
[Group][Aconite]: And you’re really good at what you do
[Group][Aconite]: I loved your drawing. You’re very talented.
[Group][Efthalia]: I don’t know what to say now [Group][Efthalia]: Thanks
[Group][Efthalia]: i just worry about this stuff
[Group][Efthalia]: my parents are really great but when I said I wanted to do this they were all like how does that get you a job
[Group][Aconite]: *hugs*
[Group][Efthalia]: sokay
[Group][Efthalia]: i'm not freaking out or anything
[Group][Efthalia]: hey I’ve just thought
[Group][Efthalia]: you’re just down the road
Shit. That looked totally stalker. He’d been so desperate to change the subject from “I think you’re way too good for me” that he’d changed it to “I know where you live.”
[Group][Efthalia]: do you wanna go kill some loonies?
[Group][Aconite]: You mean in the game, right?
[Group][Aconite]: Because out of context that sounds really weird.
You’re in a hole, Drew, stop digging.
[Group][Efthalia]: um yeah in the game
[Group][Efthalia]: I wasn’t inviting you to like come hang out with me
[Group][Efthalia]: and attack the mentally ill
No, stop digging. Stop.
[Group][Aconite]: Honestly, first you tell me you go to a university named after a famous anti-Semite
[Group][Aconite]: and then you invite me to come beat up some disabled people
[Group][Efthalia]: :( :( :(
[Group][Aconite]: Aw, don’t make sadface. I was only teasing. I’m sorry.
[Group][Efthalia]: :)
They pressed on to the next area and rained arcane death on their next batch of completely innocent bystanders. By the time they returned to the quest-givers, they’d accumulated enough XP to hit level two, which meant their quests sent them each off to talk to their individual class trainer. Drew got a baseline healing spell called Nourishing Soil, and Solace got Infestation, which turned out to be completely useless at this level because between the two of them, they could kill everything they met before the DoT had a chance to tick.
Over the next few hours they massacred most of the native wildlife, collected the lost personal effects of a thirtieth-level magistrix who should really have been able to deal with this shit herself, and tracked down a highly dangerous mad oracle who, when they met her, turned out to be level four. They also spent more time talking, overanalysing quest text, and looking at scenery than Drew had over the whole of the last three years. It kind of meant that by midnight they were still level ten, even with the XP nerfs that had come in with the last couple of expansions. But Drew honestly didn’t care. He was having . . . Oh, what was that word again? Fun.
And the more time he spent with Solace, the harder it was to remember his “don’t fall for imaginary elves” rule.
[Group][Efthalia]: shit i should probably be in bed
[Group][Efthalia]: do you ever sleep?
[Group][Aconite]: I’ve got a touch of insomnia
[Group][Aconite]: And I kind of like HoL late at night
[Group][Aconite]: It’s all quiet, so the game feels like it’s just mine
[Group][Efthalia]: except when orcs come and hang out on your rock
[Group][Aconite]: I like that too
[Group][Efthalia]: :)
[Group][Efthalia]: do you want to do this again sometime?
[Group][Aconite]: Definitely
[Group][Efthalia]: Tomorrow?
[Group][Aconite]: Oh, it’s the Masqueraid on Fridays
[Group][Efthalia]: Yeah I saw that on the guild calendar
[Group][Efthalia]: I have no idea what it is
[Group][Aconite]: It used to be our night for farming RP gear
[Group][Aconite]: But it’s just sort of evolved into a be slightly drunk, wear a silly costume and do something random night
[Group][Aconite]: It’s fun. You should come.
[Group][Efthalia]: Uh
[Group][Aconite]: We’re going to do Traitor’s Spire.
[Group][Efthalia]: I farmed that to death last expansion
[Group][Aconite]: But did you ever do it in a [Lovely Red Dress].
[Group][Efthalia]: I don’t think that’s Ella’s style
[Group][Aconite]: I can tailor you the tuxedo set
[Group][Aconite]: If you want to be all Radclyffe Hall about it
[Group][Efthalia]: I don’t know what that is but it sounds like a late vanilla dungeon
[Group][Aconite]: Early 20th century novelist
[Group][Aconite]: Wrote a really depressing book about how miserable it is being a lesbian in the 1920s
[Group][Efthalia]: how do you know about this stuff?
[Group][Aconite]: Well I do go the University of Leicester :P
[Group][Efthalia]: :P
[Group][Aconite]: Seriously, come to the raid tomorrow. It’ll be good.
[Group][Aconite]: Plus I bet you can do Maladreth in your sleep
[Group][Efthalia]: All right if you promise there’ll be drinking
[Group][Aconite]: Bjorn might even sing
[Group][Efthalia]: and that’s supposed to tempt me how?
[Group][Efthalia]: wait Bjorn goes?
[Group][Efthalia]: it
really doesn’t sound like his thing
[Group][Aconite]: Hanging out with his friends wouldn’t be his thing?
[Group][Aconite]: I know he’s a bit of a dick but that’s really harsh
[Group][Efthalia]: i just meant he seems all super hard-core
[Group][Aconite]: Oh he still gets to show off
[Group][Aconite]: But honestly it’s just how we hang out on our Fridays
[Group][Aconite]: Like other people go to the pub
[Group][Efthalia]: I guess I’ll sign up then
[Group][Aconite]: Yay! See you tomorrow
[Group][Efthalia]: yeah see you then
[Group][Aconite]: I had a really nice time tonight
[Group][Efthalia]: Me too
[Group][Efthalia]: nn
[Group][Efthalia]: *hugs*
Drew liked to keep Fridays clear just on the off-chance something came up, which meant, in practice, hanging out in the pub with his course mates because none of them had anything better to do. That said, he was pretty sure Sanee would still rip the piss out of him for going on a raid when he could, theoretically, have been at a trendy nightclub or gate-crashing an Embassy party. In Sanee’s estimation, raiding was basically one step up from speed-dating.
But he pushed all that stuff aside, got himself a six-pack, and settled down in front of his keyboard. He’d expected it to be a sort of undermanned, overgeared, half-arsed business, but actually, it seemed really popular. There were even people who weren’t on the raid hanging out in Mumble chatting as they levelled or played other video games or, in Caius’s case, worked from home. And, to his surprise, Drew found he was having a good time.
Solace had posted him an [Elegant Tuxedo] set, so for the first time since he’d started playing, Drew actually put something in Ella’s cosmetic slot. She kind of looked like a really angry butler, but he was glad he’d bothered, because everyone else was in an equally silly costume. Solace, as promised, was wearing a [Lovely Red Dress] from the Valentine’s event, Morag had a pumpkin head from Halloween, Ialdir was wearing a set of elven chain Drew suspected had some kind of deep lore significance, and Bjorn had somehow managed to polymorph himself into a mushroom, which Drew was pretty sure was one of the really heavy faction rewards from vanilla.
They made a strange party as they burst through the gates of Traitor’s Spire in pursuit of Maladreth the Betrayer, the elf responsible for the schism in the elvish people, who, to be fair, was dressed almost as ludicrously as they were. He was sort of this crazy bishi sorcerer with ankle-length black hair, swirly black robes, massive nineteen eighties shoulder pads, and an enormous pointy helm that had been the subject of many cock jokes down the years.
They scythed in a leisurely manner through what had once been top-tier raiding content, bickering affectionately over which drops looked coolest or stupidest or most like a wang. They were constantly stopping to take screenshots for the guild photo album, look at cool things, and listen to Bjorn and Ialdir trying to out-lore each other. People, including Drew, got steadily drunker and louder as the evening progressed. There was even singing, led by Bjorn, who had a surprisingly impressive baritone.
What there wasn’t, was anything from Solace. At least not on Mumble, at least as far as Drew could make out. But then it was hard to tell because there were a lot of people chipping in all over the place. It was something he’d been low-key aware of for a while. Different guilds had very different voice policies, and it was hard to keep track of who was saying what in the middle of a raid anyway, but it was getting to the point that it was A Thing. And he felt bad that it was A Thing. After all, it was pretty normal for some people not to talk in Mumble.
The truth was, Sanee’s jokes about chicks on the internet had opened up a whole can of gender-related worms that Drew had been very careful to keep closed.
Then again, maybe he’d been right to. Whatever was going on with Solace, they were just hanging out in a video game. And obviously it was better for Drew to imagine this cute, lonely gamer girl instead of, well, someone like him. But basically whether Solace really looked anything like her avatar was none of his business.
Also, Tinuviel would have pointed out that assuming everyone on the internet was a middle-class white dude was totally sexist. And, now he thought about it, SCDD had a pretty high proportion of actual women. Especially compared to Anni, which was a legendary sausage party.
So, really, there was no reason Solace couldn’t be a girl IRL. She was into, y’know, looking pretty and being quirky and having feelings about things. That was girl stuff, right? And thank God Tinuviel couldn’t hear him thinking like that. She would have torn him a new one.
Drew went to sleep far too late and woke up completely hungover. When he finally peeled himself out of bed and turned on his computer, his desktop was papered with screenies, most of which were him and Solace. He’d basically never taken a screenshot before that wasn’t for his course. He stared at them, feeling weird.
It had become blatantly obvious that the “don’t fancy imaginary elves” rule was kaput.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
In a panic, he scrambled into his clothes and ran down the hall to Tinuviel’s room. There was usually a message on her door if she had company or didn’t want to be bothered, but since there was only a picture of a happy llama, he knocked and stuck his head in.
Tinuviel was the only person Drew knew who actually decorated their college room. He had a couple of posters and a duvet cover that didn’t look like he’d nicked it from a hotel but that was about as far as it went. Tinuviel had things like throw pillows and a lamp. She was lying on a pink sheepskin rug, fiddling away on one of those razor-thin MacBooks, the sort Drew wouldn’t have been able to afford in a million years.
She waved him in, and he collapsed gratefully into the beanbag chair.
“Ramen?” she offered, bouncing to her feet and heading over to her goodies shelf. “Wagon Wheel? Biltong?”
“Uh. Pass.” Drew’s stomach churned unhappily. “Fragile.”
Tinuviel tore open a packet of noodles, emptied them into a rainbow-patterned bowl, sprinkled a sachet of flavouring over the top, and stuck the kettle on. “Good night?”
“Yeah, I mean, no. I mean, kind of. I mean, that’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.”
She blinked. “It does sound confusing.”
“Don’t laugh, okay?”
“Okay.”
Strangely, that was one of the things Drew liked about Tinuviel. She had this habit of taking the oddest things completely at face value. “I’ve kind of met this girl on the internet.”
She poured water onto her noodles and mashed them down. “We do walk amongst you.”
One of the things Drew found slightly harder to take about Tinuviel was that he couldn’t always tell when she was joking. “I think I really like her, and she goes to Leicester, so she’s close, so it’s like possible, but . . . I only met her a week ago, and like on the internet, so I feel like a crazy person.”
“Why does that make you feel like a crazy person?”
“Well, it’s the internet. And I don’t really know who she is or if she really exists.”
“Do you know if anybody really exists?”
Drew sighed. “That’s kind of the opposite of helpful, T.”
She curled up on the rug, with her noodles cradled in her lap, like a strange, redheaded Yoda. “Well, I think what you’ve got to remember is that we all sort of construct ourselves based on the identity we want to present to other people, so, in a very real sense, nobody can ever know anybody.”
“Still not helping.”
“Okay, let’s put it another way. If you’d met this girl in a bar or a nightclub, the only thing you’d know about her was what she looked like, and the fact you had no idea what sort of food she liked or what music she listened to or whether she was a serial killer probably wouldn’t have been a problem for you. So, really, your problem can’t be that you don’t kno
w anything about this girl. It must be that you’re worried she might be a munter.”
“Dude, how shallow do you think I am?”
“Well, if that isn’t your concern, I don’t see what you’re worried about.”
Drew thought about it for a moment. “She could be a serial killer.”
“Well, so could anybody. So could I. People on the internet aren’t more likely to be serial killers than people in general.”
“I get the feeling you’re not taking me seriously.”
Tinuviel pulled a pair of extendable chopsticks out of her top pocket and started on her noodles. “I’m taking this very seriously. I don’t understand why you think I’m not.”
“If you told me you’d fallen for someone you’d met on the internet, and especially if you’d met them in a video game—not, like, through a dating app—I’d be way more worried.”
“Why?” She frowned in a noodle-y kind of way. “The way I see it, when you meet someone in”—she did air quotes—“‘real life,’ all your initial assumptions about them are based on their physical appearance, but these are extremely likely to be ignorant, prejudiced, and misleading. When you meet somebody online, your initial impressions of them are based on what they say to you. This can’t be any more misleading, and it’s only social conditioning that makes you accept the validity of relationships initially based on nothing but physical response. Online relationships are based on intellectual and emotional connection. If anything, it’s a better way of doing it.”
This was all a bit much on a hangover. He worked through it like it was a particularly chewy piece of biltong. “Yeah, but what if what they say isn’t true?”
“My mum said she once had sex with a woman because she, the woman, not my mum, thought she, my mum, not the woman, played the alto sax.”
Drew was definitely way too hungover for this. “Uh?”
“That was long before the internet. People misrepresent themselves, consciously or otherwise, all the time.”
“Can we come back to the bit where your mum tells you stories about her lesbian affairs?”
“You know your parents have had sex right?”
He put his hands over his ears and rocked. “I don’t like to think about it.”
“It’s just sex.”
“It’s your parents.”
“Sometimes you have a very strange attitude to things, Andrew.”