by Charles Dean
“I need more heads,” Tepes muttered to himself as he continued to work on the display set up behind Darwin’s rocker.
“Do we have any more heads?” Kitchens inquired, lazily enjoying the back-and-forth movement of his chair and looking over at Darwin as they heard the rat-man working.
“I mean, I get a feeling we will be acquiring more, but . . .” Darwin trailed off as he turned around to look at Tepes’s work. Every man, woman and child directly related to the Panda King’s old empire sat with their heads on display, the fresh blood Tepes had added still dripping from the necks and open eye sockets onto the earth below. The scene was truly horrific, but Darwin had already grown numb to such sights since coming to Tiqpa. “Do we really need more?” he completed the question.
“I don’t know. We might. We might not . . . but one way or the other, you’re probably right, and we’ll have plenty soon enough.” Kitchens shrugged and then went back to rocking slowly and sipping his drink.
“Don’t the heads of dead players despawn? Wouldn’t it be weird for the NPCs if they saw fifty identical dead bodies?” Darwin laughed. “It would be like a scene out of a clone war or something. If they didn’t already have suspicions that something was wrong from the way players usually behaved without any mind for roleplaying, then they would after seeing the same person dying multiple times and with the bodies to prove it. The undertaker would have to know something was up.”
“Yeah, but with all the dead bodies the players would generate, you’d think he’d keep his mouth shut. I mean, it might not be the noblest profession, but a gravedigger in a video game centered around blood and violence is probably a heck of a lot richer than the standard furniture salesman.”
“I guess the players coming into the town would artificially inflate certain parts of the economy without contributing anything to others. I mean, most players probably only come back to town to logout or restock weapons.” Darwin tried to think about how the players would impact the city's standard economy. “You know, with every mob always carrying some sort of tradable or equipable item, and those guys dying at rates of at least one per player per minute, what do you think that does to inflation? I wonder if that’s why they always make repair and training costs so expensive, to try and curb the influx of resources into the town.” Darwin felt the influence of his pencil pushing days start to surface, his love of numbers bubbling up as he started to put together the pieces of how certain game mechanics had to exist to reduce inflation--game mechanics that weren’t in Tiqpa. Why aren’t they used here? The developers--or, well, Charles--had to have known they would be essential. What am I missing? With countless other online games out there, in-game inflation isn’t something they could possibly not have been aware of in their industry.
“Maybe? But I think you’re going too far off topic. Let’s stick with the main concerns: like how come the Panda King Robin had plenty of milk and cookies, but they claim they don’t have any available when we need them the most? It’s left me a bit disgruntled, I won’t lie.” Kitchens frowned as he looked at the sake in his cup.
“Does anyone actually say the word ‘gruntled’? You hear ‘disgruntled’ all the time, but is ‘gruntled’ even a thing anymore?”
“Maybe? Maybe not. Language changes, and people twist and change words often. Just look at the word ‘nice.’ it came from the word ‘nescius’ which basically means ‘ignorant.’ It used to mean ‘idiot,’ but now it’s supposed to have a real positive denotation,” Kitchens elaborated as he continued to poke his rice cake unhappily.
Darwin paused a moment and thought of all the times someone had used the word ‘nice’ in reference to him. “I think it still means ‘idiot,’” he laughed.
Kitchens joined in his laughter, replying, “Yeah, when you hear someone is a ‘nice’ guy it might as well just mean ‘sucker.’”
They continued to laugh and joke for a while, but as time wore on, so did their patience. When Darwin had finished his third cup of tea, he finally started to voice his frustration. “Do you think they’re going to get here anytime soon? I don’t know how much longer I’m comfortable waiting. I thought we’d be pressed for time, but does it really take that long to pick a team? Alex didn’t make the mistake of asking them to name their teams, did he?”
“If it’s Daniel, he probably did just to stall them. That kid thinks well on his feet.” Kitchens nodded to himself. “I wouldn’t be surprised if, once the groups were formed, he did that just to put the heavy brakes down on them getting here before sunset.”
“Well, here’s the big question: After we finish up here, what do you want to do?” Darwin stood up and stretched his legs. The rocking chair was nice, but after sitting in it for almost an hour, he felt a strong need to move around and get his blood flowing.
“There is the town to the north . . . Jotunnheim? Or something? We already talked about it. Is there really a discussi--” Kitchens was cut off by the appearance of Daniel and Alex walking in front of hundreds of players with what looked like ten yellow snow cones escorting them. “Looks like they finally decided to show up.”
“Yeah, it does at that,” Darwin said, signaling Tepes to stop his work and take away the chairs. “Showtime?”
“I think so. You got a plan for this, right?” Kitchens puffed out his chest and tried to look intimidating, causing Darwin to mirror it to the best of his ability.
Yeah, I do need to look scary, don’t I? “Of course I do, I always have a plan,” Darwin lied. He had been kicking around what he was going to say in his head the entire time they were drinking and eating snacks, but he still wasn’t confident about where he would begin.
For the most part, the soldiers were in a tight formation, one that wouldn’t normally lend well to traveling through a forest, but they had somehow managed to stick together without a problem. As his army marched into sight, Darwin also noticed that everyone was paying unusually close attention to Alex and his sword. That is, of course, until they caught sight of the heads. Their heads swiveled from side to side and their mouths and eyes opened slowly, one after the other, like retail workers on a Black Friday facing down a mob of unruly and impatient shoppers. Darwin couldn’t help but grin as he saw their terrified and awe-inspired stares.
Alex raised his sword, and the entire group came to a stamping halt. “Great Lord Darwin!” Alex exclaimed, bowing his head and lowering his sword. “We apologize for the delay. It took me some time to whip them into shape so that they wouldn’t embarrass the name of the StormGuard Alliance. It’s a good thing we did too. We’ve had to kill almost a hundred foolish soldiers who were on their way to assault Mt. Lawlheima in the most pitiful and disorganized band I’ve ever seen.”
“So that explains the delay: an unsatisfied perfectionist,” Kitchens quietly whispered to Darwin.
Yeah, that will do it. Darwin almost nodded in agreement, but then caught himself. He needed to be scary, and there is little frightening about an agreeable man who goes around politely nodding at people. “And tardiness is any more acceptable?” Darwin glared at his new followers more than Alex. “I grew so bored in your absence that I had to devise ways to entertain myself,” he bellowed and gestured at the heads without ever turning his glare away from the army of players. “And then, when I couldn’t find any more royalty to kill, I had to start killing their families, their servants and their neighbors. Do you see how many people had to die because you made me wait?” Darwin made sure to project his voice as he laid shame upon Alex’s feet. Please don’t take this seriously, Darwin wanted to say. You did great. I just need to be the villain to keep this plan in motion.
“I’m sorry, Great Lord Darwin. I won’t let it happen again.” Alex bowed even deeper. “Please forgive me.”
“I might be able to, but” --Darwin did his best to cast his gaze across every single player-- “I think I need a sacrifice first. I ordered you all here to take a city, but by the time you arrived, I had already done the hard work myself. How are they
to prove themselves if there is nothing left to kill?”
“There are still the civilians, Lord Darwin. Perhaps these new recruits might still have a chance to pay for their tardiness and prove themselves?” Kitchens drew his sword. Darwin half-expected him to lick it with the way his voice creeped across his ears.
Note to self: Kitchens could easily be a video game voice actor. Darwin swallowed a laugh before it reached his throat. “Will civilians leave them hardened for combat? Will civilians train them in the ways of war? Do you think this lot could wrestle a city from its possessors with the skills they learn by butchering civilians?” Darwin tried to make each question boom out of his chest with feigned anger as he faced Kitchens.
“No, Great Lord, but they can prove their commitment,” Kitchens bowed.
“Their commitment? Is there still doubt?” Darwin continued the questioning and then turned to the army. “Demons, is there still doubt concerning your commitment to the cause? Is there doubt that you want to lay waste to your foes?” He waited for them to cheer a resounding ‘No!’ before continuing. “Is there any doubt you want to see their blood run in rivers before you?” The cheer came again. “Is there any doubt that you want to listen to the wailing cries of their families before your boot crushes them too?” The ‘No!’ grew even louder. “Then prove it! Burst through those doors and murder every man and woman who does not serve me. Go through every alley and spill blood. I have told those citizens loyal to me that they are to stay inside with doors locked, so, if they are outside, they are traitors, and we know how to handle traitors, don’t we?” They cheered. This is why they signed up. They didn’t join for the robes: They joined for the fun. They joined for the mayhem. Inside that city, there are probably hundreds of enemy players logged on too, wandering through the streets, clueless as to why the merchants have barred the doors and the guards aren’t around. Darwin lifted his flaming zweihander up and slammed it into the ground in front of him. “Preach my word through steel! Convert or kill them all!”
Everyone stared at him for a moment, not moving. “I SAID GO!” he yelled as loud as he could, baring his teeth as he did, and it worked. They all started sprinting through the doors.
“What about the barbeque?” Kitchens looked over at the laid-out meat.
“I . . .” Darwin tried momentarily to think of an excuse and then gave up. “I just forgot.”
“So are we going to let them have all the fun?” Kitchens asked, brandishing his katana and then re-sheathing it in one quick flurry.
“Well, we can join, but I think it’s more important for us to get Alex, Daniel and the others together and either level . . . or maybe just stand around and look like menacingly-evil generals to complete the picture.” Darwin looked over the horde of players storming through the open gates to ‘preach his word through steel.’ We took an entire city and barely had to kill a few dozen NPCs, and then we offered it up for our players to raid without having to worry about anyone but immortal players dying. This act, this is something I can do, but it will only work so long as we can find enough white-knight, up-in-arms-style players to fight against us so that we can feed these guys’ hunger for violence while moving the battlefield away from the NPCs at the same time. But how do I do that at Jotunnheim in the same clean way I did it here? Darwin bounced his concerns back and forth through his head without ever actually answering Kitchens.
“What about our levels?” Kitchens asked. “We’ve been sitting here for what feels like half a day. We need to always be ahead of the players in levels and gear, or we won’t be able to maintain authority. How about we let Alex wrap things up here, and you and I go tackle another dungeon? Or do the snow cone dungeon again? That one seemed easy enough.”
“That’s . . . not a bad idea.” Darwin looked towards the gate Alex had barreled through with a hundred players behind him. “But how would we let Alex know that we won’t be coming back until it’s time to sack the next town?” And we still haven’t touched the NPC problem. Killing a few corrupt officials is one thing, and taking out the heirs-apparent is necessary, but how do we stop the next sacking from creating needless victims if we don’t already own the town when it gets sacked?
“Well, one of us could stay behind and let him know.” Kitchens looked around. “I think Mclean and Minx were supposed to be somewhere in the group of players that went into the city with Daniel. I could go find Minx really quick if you don’t mind waiting. Ever since she started using Fuzzy Wuzzy as a mount, she’s been pretty easy to spot in a group.”
Darwin continued to stare at the gate. His mind was in an entirely different place. “Yeah, sure, that sounds fine.” Darwin was still in a daze as Kitchens darted off to find Minx, half-drunk on victory and half-sober with contemplation as he faced the looming dread that this might be the only smooth victory. With the average rate of gameplay, he would have to sack one to two cities a day to keep up the momentum. An opposing faction . . . if we make ourselves evil enough to players, or we find a way to get Eve to rally enough players to attack us in the open fields every day, then we could have all of the bloodshed needed to pay our army of players and still maintain zero NPC casualties, Darwin thought hopefully. Well, unless-- His stream of consciousness was suddenly diverted by the familiar ding of a Tiqpa notification message.
A party member has been killed.
What the . . . Kitchens died? Was I in a group with anyone besides Kitchens? Is Daniel in my group? Darwin frantically looked for the status menus he had grown accustomed to when playing MMOs on a computer, the ones that had his party members and their health conveniently listed, but was even more confused by the next notification.
It was Kass.
Kass died? But she’s not even in the game right now. How could she die? Darwin couldn't make any sense of what was going on. He was bewildered by the Tiqpa system informing him of a party member’s death, let alone answering his thoughts and questions. His mind raced as he tried to make heads or tails of how Kass could die when she wasn’t even supposed to be logged in. She was supposed to be . . .
Yes, that’s right. She was supposed to be seeing me. She was shot for her betrayal.
The gentle thumping of his heart grew faster and louder. It went from a simple, steady thud to a rapid succession of beats that would leave a skilled snare drummer impressed. Before the text box even faded, Darwin turned and started sprinting towards the portal. With each step that drew him closer to the portal, he grew more and more anxious about the situation, desperate to get to the real world and find Kass.
Why are you running so fast? It’s not like you’ll miss the funeral . . . Or are you coming to kill me?
I’m going to do more than kill you if you’ve hurt Kass! Darwin yelled inside his own head. I’m going to rip you apart! He felt the violent pounding of his heart. He felt his blood and anger grow with each thundering beat and pulse into his head as his vision slowly turned redder in time with the war drum in his chest. Each passing second caused the crimson tint to darken just a little bit more.
That’s it, isn’t it? You’re coming to kill me, aren’t you? How noble. Darwin the Butcher, eagerly jumping at the first opportunity to murder someone with a clean conscience. What a senseless beast you are, always looking for an excuse to murder someone--maybe it is best Kass will never have to see this side of you.
The words on the pop-ups slowly needled their way into Darwin’s psyche, the taunts causing his face to almost bust a blood vessel as he grew ever closer to the obsidian gateway.
You’re like a child throwing temper tantrums left and right because something didn’t go your way. You’re pathetic. You think that you can save people, that you can lead them to victory, but all you’re capable of is leading them to their death.
If you’re just trying to make me angry, it’s working, Darwin grumbled with great vexation. He wanted to murder Charles, to rip his throat out and beat the man to death with his own vocal chords, but he didn’t know what to do past that. While the t
hought kept crossing his mind, lapping his madness like a hare circling a race track, he couldn’t see past the red, the bloody pall of fury that was creeping across his world.
Would it help you to know we didn’t give her the quick death? My bodyguard always said, “A well-kept corpse is more important than a quick finish,” so he left her to bleed out on a cold floor. He left her to die alone, suffering and crying like a sniveling brat as she begged for help. If it makes you feel better, your name was the last one she called out before she died. She actually thought, even in her darkest hour, that you would help her. I wonder how painful it was to die like that. I hear it’s agonizing.
And that was it. The baiting taunts had won, and the slowly ebbing ire turned into a wave that washed across Darwin’s consciousness, purging him of sanity and control. He didn’t know how much time passed until he regained it, but he did know that, when he finally came to, he was in Mt. Lawlheima, fighting Alex, Kitchens and Daniel as they did their best to restrain him without hurting him as he flailed about on the ground.
As his eyes narrowed in on the ground before him, regaining their focus, he saw that he was on his belly again, his burning blade over ten feet in front of him, with Kitchens and Daniel holding his arms as he struggled to throw them off.
“This was a lot more difficult than last time,” Kitchens noted as he did his best to hold Darwin’s left arm twisted behind his back.
“Well, you’re the one who told Fuzzy Wuzzy not to sit on him again,” Daniel complained as he struggled with Darwin’s right arm. “How long do you think we have to hold him for anyway? Do you think he’ll get ahold of himself again anytime soon?”
Oh, look, you’re awake. You’re wondering how you got where you are? Did they come save you, or did they only get to you after you killed a few bystanders? Go on, check your hands. Are they red with blood?
Darwin quickly looked up at his hand, the one on his right arm that Daniel was holding in front of him since the one Kitchens was wrangling behind his back was impossible to see. Clean. No blood. Darwin sighed in relief.