by Adam Elliott
All of which made it frustrating for a young fourteen-year-old Cayden when he realized that the game did not permit players under the age of seventeen for quote, "Liability Purposes."
It was a cruel joke that had stuck like a thorn in Cayden's mind for over two years. He was forced to sit on the sidelines as the greatest video game in history played out on every television in the world. Millions flocked from across the globe, men and women of every nation, of every size, shape, and age imaginable all for one goal.
The wish.
Whoever, or whatever, made the Tower of Babel had unfathomable power. The terms and conditions alone appeared to rewrite the very laws of reality as they wished, and they were themselves only a fraction of the changes wrought by the developer. And he, she, it or they was promising one wish to the first person to clear the final level of the tower. No tricks, no limitations, no weird monkey paw shit. Just whatever you could imagine.
Two years, three months and sixteen days of waiting. He had his parent's permission, if not their blessing, though they couldn't stop him if they wanted to. Three more days and he could show the world what he was made of.
For now though? Pizza.
Chapter Two
The steps to the tower itself were a blessed relief after the crushing press of humanity in the bazaar that filled what was once Central Park, though they were unnerving in their own ways. The stone was too perfect, a marble without seams or blemishes to hint at the work of human hands. Simultaneously they were covered with very human markings, engravings so intricate and beautiful that a master artisan would have considered a mere handful of them to have been a life's work well spent. Each step was a work of art, a thing from another time, or the false memory of another time. An artist's rendering of antiquity.
Likewise, the few people who loitered on those nine hundred and ninety-seven steps wore the trappings of the past. There were swords and shields, robes and armor, but as with the steps, all of it was of craftsmanship that seemed improbable, if not impossible. Even players clad in the most basic, beginner level gear still wore robes of exquisite silk or armor made of a form of flowing, multi-colored steel that defied conventions both ancient and modern. If not for the fact that many of 'Player Characters' were specimens of less than physical perfection the whole scene would have looked perfectly at home in the concept art of one of a dozen MMOs.
Which was probably the point after all.
The tower loomed ever-present as he ascended the stairs. He had seen it before from his home in Iowa, and on countless streams and television shows. But up close, it was enough to send a shiver through him. This was a thing that should not be, that could not be. He felt like a distant ancestor might have felt if he'd stumbled across the Chrysler building, a thing built by someone he could not even begin to understand.
Before he knew it, Cayden had reached the top. A thousand steps sounded immense on paper but vanished in a moment as excitement welled up within. After so long he was finally here! Just through those doors and into the lobby and at long last he could join the ranks of the PCs!
Each door was a massive slab of onyx that stood some two hundred feet in height. It no doubts weighed thousands if not tens of thousands of pounds, but he knew they swung as easily as his bedroom door at home. In the open maw between them was a bank of unnaturally thick and immobile fog. The rolling mass of it churned within the confines of the doorway, small wisps lashing out here or there, but never more than a few inches away from the door itself.
This was the Veil of Beginnings, the Fog of Detection, the Instance Gate, or to many would be players, himself included "that asshole fog that keeps me from playing." Whatever name it was known by, the fog's effect was the two-fold.
First, it served the same purpose in reality as an Instance Gate had in most modern MMO games. When a player walked through it, he or she was deposited in an 'Instance,' a dimensional pocket unique to them or members of their party. Secondly, it served as a barrier to those attempting to break any of the Terms or Conditions. If Cayden had come here the previous day, he could have walked straight into the fog like anyone else, but instead of entering the tower he'd have simply found himself turned around, walking out the same door he'd entered.
Instance Gates such as this were somewhat commonplace throughout the tower, though they didn't always take the form of fog. Sometimes they were shadows; cobweb covered passages or stranger things still. Whatever form they took the goal was usually to section off players or to allow them to experience 'scripted' content.
In this case, it was both.
Two years and he was finally here. His skin was electric, and he wanted nothing more than to jump into that fog, to race through it to what he knew awaited him on the other side. But first, he had some fans to attend to.
Cayden fished into the pocket of his jeans and produced his cell phone. A quick press of an app and he was broadcasting live on periscope. Ten thousand people were watching, far lower than his record-setting days last week, but that was to be expected. His stream wasn't going to get interesting until he was inside.
“Hey folks, just wanted to give you a little update. I'm heeeeere!" Cayden laughed, detecting a surprising amount of nervousness in his voice. "I'm standing outside the Veil of Beginnings, and I gotta say... I'm a little bit on edge. But assuming all goes well, I'll be through creation in a little over an hour. I'll give you an update once I'm inside.”
Stashing his phone, Cayden drew a deep breath, shouldered his satchel one final time and reached out for the fog. He'd been told it was chilly, yet under the hot summer sun, he found the touch of it surprisingly refreshing, like a mist of cold water spritzed over his exposed skin.
In he walked, the fog enveloping him on either side. Within a few steps, the door, even the sunlight behind him was swallowed up in the gray haze. He'd turned to look, and now he didn't know whether he was facing forward or backward. Was he turned around? Instinctively he thrust out an arm, his steps more shallow to avoid bumping into a wall or some other obstruction.
A few more steps and there was light before him. A few more still and...
He was back outside.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
* * *
Three hours and a dozen more attempts had proven fruitless. Cayden wasn't sure if his mom had made the error on purpose, if she'd forgotten or if his birth certificate was simply wrong, but this was getting embarrassing. PC's had walked past him by the hundreds, and a few lingering on the stairs had taken to laughing at him around the tenth time the fog had rejected him.
Was he missing something else? The Terms and Conditions were somewhat loose regarding who was permitted into the game, limiting out only those with severe mental disorders, the underage, and those currently hexed for some other violation. Was he simply crazy? Enough of his fans had called him a narcissist after all...
"Have you tried getting a running start?" Quipped one of the men, a broad-shouldered brute with an oversized ax resting across his knees.
Cayden had tried that actually, but he flipped the guy the bird all the same. His reaction drew another round of snickers, and he felt forced to look away for fear of escalating further.
"Don't worry too much about it." The voice this time was higher in pitch and filled with a thick Japanese accent. "It happened to me too. It doesn't just have to be your birthday; the gate is accurate down to at least the hour. Probably more."
Turning to face the sound of voice he found himself regarding a boy who looked several years his junior. The face matched the accent well enough, a distinctly Asian tinge to skin and features, but it was all Cayden could do not to laugh at the bleach blonde hair that contrasted wildly with straight black eyebrows.
Despite his best attempt to hide his bemusement, it apparently failed, the burgeoning smile dying on the young man's lips.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Cayden said through choked down laughter. “You just weren't what I expected. I didn't mean to...”
"No, it's fine. I should get going."
"Please." He winced, lifting his hands up in apology. "You are the first person today to not make fun of me, and now I feel like an ass."
“You kind of looked like one coming out of the fog at a run.” The youth replied.
“Okay, now we are even.”
“Think so, huh?”
With the young man laughing and seemingly no longer in a hurry to depart, Cayden took a moment to study him. Though he looked younger than Cayden at a glance, a more steady look made clear that the newcomer was simply smaller. Half a foot shorter and narrower in the shoulders he looked like a gangly teenager in a decent cosplay.
An expensive cosplay. Cayden mused. The half plate he wore had the sheen of Adamantite, which dropped no earlier than the thirtieth floor. The two handed mallet draped over his shoulder, and the mithril hammer at his waist were even rarer. He wasn't a face Cayden recognized from the Progression raids, but he wasn't a nobody either.
“Well, it is a start. My name is-”
“Cayden Caros." The other finished for him, grinning at the stunned look that rewarded his interruption. "You're an incredibly popular live-streamer who just came to the city to start playing. It was on CNN, not hard to figure out."
“Oh.”
It was the other man's turn to laugh. “I'm Yamagi. Pleased to meet you Cayden.”
“The feeling is mutual. I'm not used to being the n00b.”
“I imagine you'll get the hang of it sooner rather than later.” Yamagi motioned to the tower. "If you ever make it to floor thirty-five stop by my shop. I'll give you a nice trinket."
“You're a smith?” Cayden cocked his head to the side with bemusement.
"Don't look the part, do I?" Yamagi glanced at his watch and frowned. “Certainly not a prompt one. Late again. Care to join me?”
Cayden scowled at the tower but nodded. "What the hell, it's been a whole five minutes."
The two set off side by side towards the open doors, and in moments the fog began to engulf them.
“Ja! Good luck.” Yamagi had been right at his side as they'd entered the tower, but his voice came as if spoken from fifty yards away, echoing off into nothingness.
He walked for half a minute, struggling to keep his bearings in a world with no landmarks. The light appeared before him again, and Cayden sighed in frustration, picking up speed to get the laughter of the onlookers over with.
Instead, Cayden heard the sound of his steps begin to click against tile and rather than outdoors he found himself in a small lobby. For all the majesty of the tower, the lobby could have been at home in the entrance of any skyscraper in the world. The only things that made the room stand out were the cryptic language that circled the two marble pillars which dominated the room, and the enormous violet crystal propped on a golden pedestal that lay between them.
The phone in his pocket buzzed an alert, but Cayden already knew not to bother reaching for it. Throughout the tower, there were a number of places that were considered off limits for outside technology. No wifi, no streaming or even photography. He had heard about this room from thousands of eyewitness accounts, but even Polaroid cameras spit out blanks for anyone who tried to snap a picture. The intent had always been clear to Cayden, “This is something you have to experience yourself.”
An odd sense of reverence washed over him as he left the fog behind. It looked simultaneously exactly as he had imagined, even dreamed, while at the same time somehow so much different. The edges of the crystal were more jagged than he'd expected, the characters carved deeper into the marble pillars. All the features he'd daydreamed about were here, but imperfect compared to the ones in his fantasies.
Cayden only realized his hands were shaking when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored surface of the stone. Even tinged violet he could see an unpleasant paleness to his skin as two years of waiting came finally came to a head. His outstretched digits bounced with adrenaline, wavering like a young lover as he reached out to touch the object of his affection for the first time.
Greetings Cayden Caros
The words sprung to life on the upper third of the mirror the moment the first of his fingers had touched it. Even expecting them, the sudden appearance was enough to make him jump. He could only imagine how the first PC's had reacted when they'd entered this room.
The crystal was more than just a mirror. It was, essentially, an eight-foot tall digital interface, a high-tech smartphone writ large.
Select Your Bloodline
The words appeared on the screen without any further prompting from Cayden and were soon joined two sets of archaic names, a list of seventy-two, severed by a line before the second list of twenty-seven.
He tapped his finger on one of the top seventy-two names, and was rewarded by the screen shrinking away from that list, replacing it with a detailed description of the creature he had selected:
Agares: Teacher of language and destroyer of dignities. Bringer of earthquakes. One of the Order of Virtues. Ruler of 31 legions of spirits.
Below that the system added, perhaps more helpfully:
Selecting Agares as your Goetic Bloodline will impart the following bonuses: 50% bonus progression speed to all language related skills. 25% resistance to all control and domination effects. 50% bonus progression to any skill with the Earth subtype. Brand of the Order of Virtues.
If the first players balked at the mirror knowing their names, what the hell did they think of this? Cayden thought with a chuckle.
Even with the benefit of a full Wikipedia, the bloodline system had confused Cayden at first blush. In essence, it was a stand in for the race selection found in nearly every RPG since the beginning of time. Whether it was outside of the power of the designer, or whether it had some implicit bias against demi-humans, Babel had did not allow PC's to alter their race. In fact, the game itself only included a single non-monstrous demi-human, the Elan.
In place of selecting a race, players chose a bloodline. According to lore that had been gleaned from NPC interaction, texts and other sources within the tower, Player Characters were supposed to be the returning descendants of the scattered people of Babel, called back by the Great Emperor's challenge. Each player could trace their lineage to one of the seventy-two lower houses of Babel, the Goetia, as well as one of the twenty-seven high houses of Babel, the Thrones.
In game terms, the Goetic bloodline allowed for specialization in a particular area, focusing on Ice magic for example, or a certain type of crafting. The Angelic background, by contrast, focused almost entirely on altering the players beginning stat block, in some cases determining what classes would be available to the new PC.
With twenty-seven to choose from, the thrones provided a strong selection of stat blocks for a typical player to choose from. But not for a min-maxing munchkin like Cayden. Fortunately, the designer had accounted for that.
Tabbris – Angel of Self-Determination
Selecting Tabbris as your angelic bloodline will provide the following: 40 stat points to be distributed as desired.
Frankly, Cayden had no idea why anyone picked any of the other twenty-six thrones. Tabbris provided the same number of stat points overall, but where the others typically had a dump stat no lower than six, Tabbris didn't require him to waste even a single point beyond the default one that was already included in his stat block.
You have selected Agares-Tabbris as your Bloodline. This selection cannot be changed at any point after finalizing your character, even if you Wipe Your Fate Clean. Do you wish to proceed?
That last dire warning was just one more reason to choose Tabbris as far as Cayden was concerned, wiping Your Fate Clean was Babel jargon for re-rolling a character and starting from scratch. The fact that the game didn't allow a player to switch their bloodlines was an odd choice, and there were a ton of theories why such an arbitrary restriction was imposed, though few of them held water. There didn't seem to be any known exploit that would have been made possibl
e by re-rolling a character with a different bloodline, and all NPC reputations were reset to their starting point as well, so it couldn't be used to game reputation. Just one more strange mystery in a game full of them.
Cayden tapped the large, pulsing 'yes' icon on the screen, and the text upon it melted back into the darkness of the mirror, only to be replaced by a new heading.
Select your Starting Class
Instead of the barrage of options from the previous screen, the mirror presented him with only four on the right-hand side of the screen:
Warrior
Wizard
Priest
Rogue
The sight of them made Cayden smile in spite of himself. No one knew who the designer was, but Cayden had never bought into the idea of the designer as some inhuman figure. This was no god, or alien, no being from beyond the comprehension of mortal men. No, this was a nerd making a 2nd edition D&D reference in his real world MMO.
An outstretched finger pressed against the word Warrior and it spilled open into a list of over two dozen classes. Fighters, Barbarians, and Rangers. Warlords and Monks. If it fought without treachery or guile, either hand to hand or at range, it belonged to the ranks of the warriors.
The mirror presented a glut of options, and in spite of his willpower on the issue, Cayden found his eyes raking across a half dozen possible classes and the other three tantalizing menus. He had spent much of the last six months painstakingly researching attributes, playstyles, strengths, and weaknesses to narrow down his possibilities. Ultimately he had settled on a class, but even now he could feel the arguments to be made for a necromancer build, or the holy priest he had spent weeks researching.
"Okay, none of that." Cayden spoke to the empty room, shouting down his inner voice as a fingertip stabbed at a class halfway down the list.