World War VR

by Michael Ryan

  Rohini: God, it’s like a bad romance, isn’t it?

  Indeed.

  “What else can you tell me?” Rohini asked.

  “I cannot summon their help. The Nagant Monks, I mean. I know your enemy will be as fierce and dedicated as you are, my lady. They, however, will not be helped by the Nagant Monks either. Both sides will only be judged on the battlefield according to their skills and bravery.”

  “I see. Tell me, witch, do your spirits give you guidance about what our mission is about?”

  “They tell me that your instinct to find the mines and enter them is smart. If we’re successful, we’ll discover a safe haven. The route, however, goes through dangerous caverns and tunnels. We’ll face many risks – being lost, captured, and attacked among them.”

  “Do you know what dwells inside the mountain?” Rohini asked.

  “Dragonlings, bats, lizards, snakes, scorpions, and all manner of beasts. And there are other things, deep in the ancient caves, things you don’t want to speak of, much less face.”

  “We’ll camp here tonight, then. Tomorrow will be a new day, and we’ll enter the mountain after first light and a good meal. Inform the others.”

  A Quest has been offered: [Enter Mines]

  Existing Open Quests: [One]

  Accept? [Y/N]

  Chapter Nine

  You’ll Be Afraid of Dusk.

  ~ Tagline, Assassins of Boulder Town, Rhith Corporation

  On the weekend after he’d been offered the dream scholarship, Dale entered a conversation pod with a group of high school friends. Graduation was less than a month away, and everyone was excited.

  Summer had nearly arrived, and by the fall their lives would be different than they could imagine. Dale chatted about trivial matters with Brian and several other gaming friends.

  “Have you guys seen the preview of Assassins of Boulder Town?” someone asked the group.

  “No,” Dale said.

  “I have. It’s awesome,” Brian said. “Play the preview.”

  One of the group brought up a full-sized Rhith-scope screen, and they watched the game trailer.

  A desert came into view.

  Cactus, turkey vultures, and cattle appeared. Off in the distance, a steam locomotive sped down iron tracks pulling a train towards an old Western town.

  The next shot that appeared was of the inside of a saloon.

  “A whiskey?” the bartender asked. He had a long dark beard and spoke with a Western accent. He poured a shot of whiskey into a dirty glass.

  The view of the saloon panned across the bar to reveal poker players, ladies of the night, and a man playing the piano. The atmosphere of the game was dark and gritty. The saloon’s double doors flew open, and an ugly man wearing a black hat entered the room.

  “I’m here for Charlie,” he growled.

  The game’s preview jumped through a rapid set of clips: gun battles, buffalos, cattle, more gun battles, and views of canyons, mountains, and vast dark forests with elk, deer, bear, and wolves.

  The final shot showed a group of Native American scouts looking over a bluff towards the town while the sun dropped behind distant mountains.

  A voice-over declared, “Be afraid of dusk.”

  Before the preview faded to black, the title appeared again.

  Assassins of Boulder Town.

  7.7.43

  You’ll Be Afraid of Dusk.

  “That looks like a great game,” Dale said. “But I’m more of a fantasy guy myself.”

  “I love historicals,” someone said.

  “It’s the only time you pay attention to history lessons,” one of the girls teased.

  “He only likes them because prostitution is always legal in historicals.”

  “Shut up,” he countered.

  “Make me, fool.”

  “I can’t wait to get to college and get away from children,” Dale whispered to Brian.

  “Me too,” Brian said. “I like the look of that game, but I think you make better wolves.”

  “When’s it coming out?” someone else asked.

  “I think in a month,” another said.

  The girl laughed. “Don’t you guys read? It said right on the trailer, July seventh.”

  “I quit paying attention when the pictures ended.”

  “Is anyone else worried about this government thing?” Dale asked.

  “I’m not,” someone said.

  “Me neither,” said a second person.

  “You should be,” the female said. “But you’re too stupid.”

  “My parents are freaked out,” a third said.

  “It’s stupid,” someone else offered.

  “The government has controlled the press since forever,” the female said. “So it’s all bullshit.”

  “Everyone knows that already,” said another girl who Dale recognized from one of his classes.

  A senior who played on the football team and had barely graduated spoke up. “What about these Nagant War rumors and–”

  Someone interrupted him and called him a name.

  Then a louder argument started.

  Dale wished he’d never said anything.

  In reality, he was worried one second, but not the next.

  He went back and forth, like a bee going from a flower to its hive and back again.

  It was a no-brainer, of course, to officially accept the PTU scholarship. His parents had agreed, and they’d gone to the administrative offices to sign all the paperwork.

  Dale only had to finish the final three weeks of high school, avoid being sucked into a volunteer program – or a war – and not get hit by a bus.

  Dale decided he wasn’t going to worry about the government, the press, rumors of war, or public transportation. He’d received the offer of a lifetime, and he fully intended to avoid being sidetracked, delayed, or sent to Afghanistan on a “voluntary” peacekeeping mission.

  A month later, Dale Brown graduated with a ranking that put him in the top two percent.

  He avoided being hit by a bus.

  The only thing floating around in the back of his mind was the possibility of being forced to delay his studies at PTU because ultimately the government could call him into service, scholarship or not.

  The gossip mill surrounding the war had mostly died down. Nothing had changed. The same nightly news with the same anchors continued to report as they always had.

  When the big day arrived, he had a final dinner with the family.

  “I’m going to miss you, son,” his mother said. “Don’t stay away too long.”

  “I’ll sort of miss all of you,” he said.

  “I won’t miss you,” his little brother said. He stuck out his tongue. “Are you leaving your game for me?”

  “No, I told you. I need my Rhith–”

  “That’s not fair!” he complained.

  “You’re too young to play,” Dale reminded him.

  “I am not. Mooooom! Dale is teasing me.”

  “You’ll be old enough in a couple of years,” Dale said.

  “Enough bickering,” their father ordered. Earl picked up a bowl of mashed potatoes. “You’re ruining this nice dinner. I’m having seconds. Boys?”

  “I’m full,” the littlest Brown declared. “Can I have dessert now?”

  “I need to order a car,” Dale said, “and make it to the train on time. And I hate long goodbyes.”

  He kissed his mother, shook hands with his father, and rubbed his little brother’s head.

  While riding the train into downtown Cincinnati, Dale received a text message.

  Brian: So you’re going?

  Dale: Y.

  Brian: You promised. We shook on it.

  Dale: I can’t pass this up.

  Brian: You made a deal. If you were my friend, you wouldn’t go.

  Dale: This is a dream come true.

  Brian: You’re being selfish.

  Dale: I need to go.

  He made it to school with only
a tiny remainder of guilt.

  Cole greeted him and showed him to his new dorm room, where all of his belongings had already been delivered.

  “That’s efficient,” Dale said.

  “Things are like that around here,” Cole agreed.

  “Great. Anything else I should know about before I unpack?”

  Dale inspected the room. It was bigger than his bedroom at home, and it had a small window with a real view to the outside.

  Not that there was much to see besides another building, but it was real.

  He was excited to be on his own, but a little uneasy too.

  “Nothing else to worry about tonight,” Cole said. “Just be on time for the orientation tomorrow at ten. I know that’s early, but someone thinks it’s efficient.” He pointed upward and grinned.

  Dale gave him a quizzical look.

  “I’m not saying there isn’t any privacy here,” Cole said, but he was shaking his head and smiling.

  Dale nodded.

  Cole left him alone, and he discovered a gift his mother had secretly packed – a framed family photo taken the previous summer. The shot had a classic, old-fashioned look. A father, a mother, and two boys in a small fishing boat.

  The Browns had vacationed at a man-made lake. It had been a fun trip. He’d complained at the time about being offline for three days as if that disconnection was going to cause him severe trauma.

  Well, it might have, he thought.

  Time to set up the Rhith Console.

  Chapter Ten

  All life sprang from the sea.

  ~ Incan Goddess Mama Cocha

  Princess Rohini accepted the quest to enter the mines.

  During the night, she slept uneasily.

  She first dreamt of dragonlings and dwarfs.

  Next, her dreams cascaded with scenarios revolving around the complex decisions she had to make in real life as Lia. Universities, government-run volunteer programs, and whether she should accept the intriguing advances of a particular American all influenced her dreaming. Lia lived in Medellín, Colombia, and she wasn’t sure where the world was headed.

  She believed that serendipity was a factor of life, and not just in random number generators and loot drops.

  Love was often found in the most unexpected places.

  The next morning, ready for an adventure, Princess Talargo entered the mines on foot with her troop.

  Riding on mounts was forbidden in the mines and tunnels throughout the Arodian Mountains, or at least was prevented by the game mechanics.

  Any attempt to sit on a mount led to having your head bashed into the ceiling. It was one of those rules that stubborn players figured out the hard way.

  Pets, however, were allowed in the mines.

  The Waltores were useful, both as guards and trackers. What Rohini wished for was an Arodian Red Molerat. Unfortunately, they could only be obtained in rare loot drops.

  She’d only seen one in action so far.

  “Does anyone have a pet similar to a Red Molerat?” she asked the group. They were walking along a straight passageway that seemed to lead to the center of the mountain.

  “I have a pet, my lady,” the witch said, “that may prove useful.”

  Rohini had decided that she had no choice but to trust the witch, so she’d spent time getting to know her better. Her name was Kelty, and her race, when in her professional avatar, was Zuharah. The Zuharah were a tribe of wizards, warlocks, and witches – the distinction of which nobody on the outside seemed to be able to make.

  Kelty’s class was Magisk, and her professional guild was an Elidar clan, so she’d stacked her skills in favor of spell-casting damage.

  Although they’d hired her as a guide, she was the best DPS-ranged attacker in the group.

  Rohini hoped she was loyal.

  “What kind of pet?” she asked.

  “A Yoltian Albino Volerat,” Kelty answered, and summoned it.

  The otherwise all-white creature had pink eyes, paws with broad, stiff claws designed for digging, and long whiskers on its narrow snout. It rooted at the ground, continually smelled the air, and darted around like she was on amphetamines.

  “She’s not as rare as a Red Molerat, but nearly as useful. If dwarfs are near, she’ll smell them, and her body will change from white to pink to red the closer they get. She’s also immune to black, red, and green pit adders, so she can tank for us if we run into a pit of snakes, which, around here, is quite likely.”

  “Very good,” Rohini said.

  “Also, my lady, she’s a rooter. If she smells useful herbs, she’ll dig them up. I try to keep a wide variety of herbs on hand, especially in dangerous spots like this. Healing herbs could mean the difference between life and a painful death.”

  “It is as you say, Kelty,” Rohini agreed. “I’m glad you’ve joined us. And please, call me Rohini. All of this ‘my lady’ formality wears on me.”

  “As you wish,” Kelty said.

  Rohini studied the walls, floors, and ceilings as they walked through the cavern. Whenever she noticed an anomaly, she stopped and investigated. When she discovered a loose stone, she pried it out with her hunting knife, and a hidden scroll appeared.

  Congratulations!

  You’ve discovered your first Lore Book, The Mines of Queen Zerynthia.

  New skill tree opened: Lore Knowledge

  Level: Inept.

  As you grow in this skill, you will be able to decipher ancient secrets that will help increase your abilities in the magic arts. Lore Knowledge Skill will also help you to solve puzzles and riddles.

  Hint: Not all gods are real, and not all legends are true. But remember that myths can be truthful lies, and spotting deception can uncover spies.

  She read the lore book out loud to the others, hoping it might help in some way, but whether or not it had any useful information, she had no idea even after reading it twice.

  The mines of Queen Zerynthia were once the primary producers of diamonds, gold, and emeralds on Almaach. Myths have surrounded the hidden treasures of Queen Zerynthia since her demise. The seeker of treasure is granted this poem; may its ageless wisdom help in the quest for the queen’s lost riches:

  The Poem of Sorrow

  The greedy seek where desire leads

  The wealthy store treasure beyond their needs

  The wise dismiss ancient myths

  The true seeker finds more than gifts

  “What does it mean?” Ruthann asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rohini answered. “Maybe nothing.” She put the scroll into her inventory and returned to walking along the path. They took turns lighting torches, walking point, and occasionally stopping to rest.

  After they traveled for many more hours, the surroundings changed. The walls had carvings and reliefs of figures, animals, and battle scenes. The pathway remained dark, but moss and ferns began to appear. They glowed with yellow, green, and blue phosphorescence.

  Their path opened into an elaborately decorated cavern. In the center of the space was an unadorned stone throne.

  “A dwarf king throne, perhaps,” Kelty said.

  Rohini began to ask a question. “Does your–”

  But it was cut short when one of the soldiers touched the throne, sending it into a downward slide. When it disappeared below the floor, a loud crash echoed through the room. A massive gate dropped from the ceiling, blocking the entrance tunnel behind them with thick iron bars.

  They were trapped.

  The cavern walls began to glow from the light cast by red and purple glyphs carved into the ceiling. The colors throbbed as if the symbols were beating hearts.

  Wind blew through the chamber and their torches went out. The mini-storm intensified and created a whistling sound that distorted their voices when they tried to communicate.

  Each member of the party transformed into fighting avatars the moment the action started. Rohini’s avatar was the race called Isca, a jaguar-like creature. Lia had been fascinated wit
h their history and the Aztec legends that were their origin. Their abilities were based on duality: cunning versus naïveté. They were easily deceived by gods and magic, sometimes to the point of foolishness, but they were also brilliant strategists and good at solving puzzles.

  Rohini’s vision was excellent in the dark, but not every race had night vision. “Quickly, we need a Glow Orb!” she cried.

  The command wasn’t needed; Kelty had begun an enchantment the moment the wind blew out the first torch.

  A sphere of glowing light appeared in her hand, and she set it on the floor. It created no heat but lit the entire cavern as if it were noon on a cloudless day.

  The cavern’s wall symbols began to move as if they’d received a breath of life enchantment, and they formed into faces. Once complete, they laughed with a hideous, mocking cackle. Adders slithered through carved mouths and dropped to the floor. Red, green, purple, blue, and black snakes poured into the room and attacked.

  “Each color indicates a unique venom, Princess,” Kelty warned. “And every race has different susceptibility towards each type.”

  The fighting turned into chaos and confusion.

  Kelty’s pet moved into position to tank. The witch concentrated on killing the purple adders, which was the only color her volerat wasn’t immune to.

  Rohini chopped and hacked snakes with mechanical precision, but as they killed the attacking adders, more poured from the walls.

  Every dead creature gave experience points.

  +10XP!

  +7XP!

  +10XP!

  +5XP!

  +7XP!

  At such low amounts they’d wear out their arms before achieving anything worthwhile. Snake killing wasn’t tricky, but swinging a sword took energy, and stamina wasn’t endless. Without a way to replenish themselves, even the lowest of mobs would eventually kill them if the enemies kept attacking in large enough numbers.

  Each adder dropped loot, but it was usually a centrie coin, barely worth the energy it took to pick it up. They were in a battle of attrition, and they were losing.

  “Could we use a binding spell to make something to plug those holes?” Rohini asked. One of her soldiers was especially fond of obscure enchantments. She asked him if he could think of a way to seal the chamber against the reptiles.