Riptide Publishing
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Hillsborough, NJ 08844
www.riptidepublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Player vs Player
Copyright © 2014 by Amelia C. Gormley
Cover Art by Kanaxa, www.kanaxa.com
Editor: Danielle Poiesz
Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [email protected].
ISBN: 978-1-62649-183-0
First edition
December, 2014
Also available in paperback:
ISBN: 978-1-62649-184-7
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Pushing for change can be dangerous when change starts pushing back.
Video game writer Niles River loves the work he does at Third Wave Studios: creating games with mass appeal that feature women, people of color, and LGBTQ characters. To make his job even better, his best friend is his boss and his twin brother works beside him. And they mostly agree that being on the forefront of social change is worth dealing with trollish vitriol—Niles is more worried about his clingy ex and their closeted intern’s crush on his brother than he is about internet harassment.
But now the bodies on the ground are no longer virtual and someone’s started hand-delivering threats to Niles’s door. The vendetta against Third Wave has escalated, and to make matters worse, the investigating detective is an old flame who left Niles heartbroken for a life in the closet.
No change happens without pain, but can Niles justify continuing on with Third Wave when the cost is the blood of others? If he does, the last scene he writes may be his own death.
Dedicated to the women and men who were injured and killed during Elliot Rodger’s rampage in Isla Vista, CA, May 2014, and to all the victims of sexist male entitlement everywhere.
“Misogyny actually kills people.”
—Laci Green (www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPFcspwbrq8)
About Player vs Player
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Author’s Note
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
Also by Amelia C. Gormley
About the Author
Enjoy this Book?
“Check that out.”
Niles’s gaze followed to where Rosena Candelaria, CEO and lead producer at Third Wave gaming studios—and, not coincidentally, his boss and best friend—had gestured, pointing out a cosplayer in the autograph line. A stacked woman in a form-fitting, yet combat-practical, brown leather catsuit stood amid the crowd beside another cosplayer. He whistled appreciatively. “Great costume. That must have taken some effort.”
Rosie nodded. “Yeah, but notice anything about her specifically?”
Niles narrowed his eyes and looked closer. To her credit, the girl in the leather hadn’t made any attempt at darkening her skin to portray Issis, who was a tall, ebony-skinned powerhouse of a mercenary in-game. The care she had taken with her outfit showed in the minute details and quality of its craftsmanship. The neckline over Issis’s not-inconsiderable rack was squared off, rather than the plunging vee the marketing dickwads at EEU had slipped past them for the promo images, and hanging from her shoulder was a bandolier of ammunition, lockpicks, and various tools of the character’s mercenary trade. “Oh, hello, looks like we have a beta participant. Lucky lady.”
“She had to have busted her ass to get that costume completed. The limited beta just went live two weeks ago, and no one knew Issis’s look was different from the promo shots until we released it.” Rosie turned back to attend to the next fan in line at the autograph table, though Niles continued to watch for a moment longer, his attention drawn to Issis’s companion.
The other cosplayer was shorter, and so convincingly androgynous that Niles wasn’t entirely sure if the person under the dark blue-gray stage makeup was male or female. His money was on female, given the height and the fact that there weren’t a lot of guys who would show up in public dressed as Gairi, Phoenix Force 3’s unapologetically queer character. Gairi’s costume wasn’t as eye-catching as Issis’s, but then, there wasn’t much the cosplayer could do with the homespun peasant-wear Gairi first appears in-game wearing.
The pair were still quite a ways down the line and Niles glanced at his watch, hoping they’d make it to the table before the autograph session ended.
Normally, a lead writer and CEO wouldn’t have been signing autographs at all. That sort of fan interaction generally went to the voice actors doing convention appearances, but this year, Portland GamerCon had a feature aimed toward gamers wanting to break into the industry, and specifically focused on gaming companies in the Pacific Northwest. It was exciting for Third Wave, and he and Rosie were getting a little bit of celebrity treatment for the way they’d taken an unlikely start-up and managed to produce a franchise of platinum titles. Of course, the downside was that everyone who stopped by for an autograph had an idea to pitch to Rosie, which meant each autograph was taking longer than it should and their handlers had to keep urging people to move on.
Between signing mint-condition collector’s edition boxes of the first two Phoenix Force games and a handful of other Third Wave offerings, Niles monitored the two cosplayers’ progress in line and took in the rest of the convention-goers. Amid a mass of T-shirts bearing logos for countless TV, movie, comic, and game fandoms were many other cosplayers, and Niles wished he had time to wander the floor and get a better look at them. Through the open doors of the autograph room, the main convention floor bustled, clusters of tables hosting pen-and-paper role-playing games. Booths for other electronic gaming companies lined the walls, complete with computers and consoles offering passer
sby a chance to sample upcoming titles.
The number of guys wearing fedoras at the gaming tables and in line at the booths and exhibits was disheartening. With the hat having been adopted by the regressives who were misleadingly styling themselves as men’s rights activists, he found he couldn’t see a fedora anymore without making a snap judgment about the wearer. How many of these guys here today were making a political statement with their headgear, and how many just thought they looked cool?
The autograph line continued to inch forward. The third time a ubiquitous dude-bro gamer asked “Issis” to pose for a picture with him, he noticed the young woman’s smile was beginning to look a bit strained. Predictably, the guys ignored “Gairi,” no doubt concerned that if they took a picture with someone portraying a gay character, the gay would rub off on them. It was the female fans—and a lot of them—who wanted their picture taken with Gairi, or with Gairi and Issis together. Equally predictably, the shots with the female fans generally featured the deadly bombshell Issis in power poses, while the guys who asked for pictures sometimes were simply looking for an excuse to cop a squeeze.
“Funny how people watching at one of these cons pretty much encapsulates every single issue with gaming we try to tackle at Third Wave,” Rosie observed under her breath. To all appearances her attention was on the first edition Phoenix Force comic she was signing, but Niles could tell by the tension around her mouth and eyes that she hadn’t missed all the interplay involving Issis.
Niles nodded. While it was the most blatant bit of harassment they’d seen, he had no doubt there was plenty happening out of their line of sight, as well. The Portland Convention Center was packed. The scent of food brought in from the outside mingled with body odor from people who had been sitting at the gaming tables or wandering—and definitely sweating—all day, making the air stifling. He’d never dare admit it publicly, but he was one geek who really didn’t care for conventions.
“I’m trying to figure out how to take some of the pressure off her without creating a scene. Looks like she could use a break,” Niles murmured back, refraining from checking his watch to see how much longer they had to be here. He smiled at the next fan as she stepped up to the table.
Before Rosie could respond or Niles could greet the fan, a broad-shouldered body inserted itself between their chairs. Not in a pushy way. Quite the opposite, actually. There was a questioning hesitation to the interruption. “Ms. Candelaria, Mr. River, Mr. . . . uh, the other Mr. River asked me to see if there was anything the two of you needed.”
Rosie stopped signing autographs long enough to look at the stammering young man, then over to Niles. “I didn’t know you’d brought an intern along to help out today.”
“I didn’t.” Niles chuckled, giving his new intern an amused look. “Patrick, it’s okay to call me Niles. And I promise, my brother doesn’t need to be called Mr. River any more than I do. I didn’t know you were working today. Did Jordie bring you along?”
And if so, just what was Jordan doing co-opting Niles’s writing-staff intern?
“Uh, no, Mr.—um, Niles. I’m here with my stepbrother and some of his guild-mates from his old MMO. They’re around . . . somewhere.” The intern frowned. Patrick Rutledge was a nervous kid, Niles had noticed, even here in a social setting. He glanced around the crowded meeting room with the same discomfort he normally exhibited every time Niles tried to get to know the skittish intern. The kid’s anxiety seemed to get worse when referring to his family, especially his stepbrother or stepfather. “I just bumped into Mr. River on the floor, and he asked me to check on you.”
“Leave it to your brother to wrangle a hapless convention-goer into free labor.” Rosie shook her head. “Tell Jordan he can bring us a couple more bottles of water, and he can do it himself. Don’t you dare let him make you do it for him. If you paid admission and you’re not on the clock, go have fun.”
“Oh, I don’t mind helping out,” Patrick protested, blushing. “I’m not sure where Mr. River is just—”
“He’s there.” Niles jerked his chin toward the line of people still waiting for autographs, which was steadily creeping along. A fedora-wearing dude had hit Issis up for a picture, and judging by the way she stiffened and jerked away after the flash had gone off as the guy’s friend took the picture, Niles was willing to bet the kid had tried to grope her. He saw her face flush and her mouth twist as she struggled with the impulse to retort angrily. But just then, Jordan appeared beside her, his voice loud enough to carry across the ever-shortening line.
“Hey, I just have to say I love your costumes!” he gushed to her and Gairi. Niles blinked at the amount of camp in his tone because that wasn’t Jordan’s style at all. He managed to sidle up to Issis without actually disrespecting her space and turned to give a salacious look to the handsy guy she’d posed with. “Who’s your friend?”
Never had a dude-bro backpedaled quite so quickly. He practically fell on his ass in his rush to put several steps between himself and Jordan, as though Jordan were going to launch himself at the guy and shove his tongue down his throat at any second. Gairi looked wryly amused as the guy righted the fedora on his head and stammered defenses of his masculinity, but Issis seemed peeved with the display. She stepped away from Jordan as soon as she could politely do so, and Jordan dropped the camp act.
“Thanks,” Niles heard her say, looking from Jordan to her accoster and back. “But I was about to deal with it.” She paused for a moment and gave Mr. Hands a stern look. “Dude. Not cool. Grabbing someone like that without consent is considered assault, you know. If you grope anyone else, I’ll report you to security, and maybe the police.”
“Oh, good girl,” Rosie whispered.
Mr. Hands scoffed, his alarm turning quickly to indignation. “Whatever, bitch. Don’t bother dressing up if you don’t want the attention.” He thumped his companion, the one who’d been wielding the iPhone, on the chest. “Come on, let’s go. There’s fucking fags and bitches all over this place.”
They walked away before Issis could answer, and a dozen or so frustrated responses played across her face, stuck on the tip of her tongue. Niles could still hear the guys complaining—and not discreetly—about “crazy sluts” halfway across the convention center. Gairi laid a consoling hand on Issis’s arm.
He didn’t really even need to glance at Rosie to know what her reaction was. Her knuckles whitened around her metallic Sharpie, and he wondered if it could actually be used as a stabbing implement if wielded with enough force. She seemed ready to give it a try. She jerked her head in a “come here” gesture to Jordan, and he got the cosplayers’ attention without invading their space.
“You two want to jump to the head of the line?” he asked with a reassuring smile. “Ms. Candelaria wants a better look at your costumes.”
The two cosplayers grinned at each other, Issis’s irritation with Jordan melting away in an instant, and they nodded eagerly, following Jordan to the autograph table. Niles heard a sigh behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Patrick staring at Jordan with stars in his eyes, as though Jordie had just single-handedly rescued the ladies from a whole army of boss mobs. He continued staring the entire time Jordan guided Issis and Gairi past the queue.
Biting his lip against the urge to smile or say something that might embarrass Patrick, Niles murmured, “I thought Rosie told you to go have fun? We’re okay here. I’ll see you later.”
Patrick nodded, swallowing as he tore his eyes away from Jordan, and left. Niles sighed and turned around to accept the next game box to autograph, exchanging a few words with its owner until Jordie and the cosplayers reached the table. Jordan gave them a friendly nod good-bye and slipped away, leaving them with Niles and Rosie.
“What’s your name, Issis?” Rosie asked when they arrived, giving the young woman a smile as she produced a booklet of concept art that had come with the collector’s edition of PF2. Niles smiled at the young woman—on closer inspection, it was obvious his assumption
regarding the sex of the player had been correct—cosplaying Gairi, who had a copy of a trade rag Rosie and Niles had done an interview for after the original Phoenix Force had gone platinum.
“Charity Anspach,” Issis replied, glancing sideways at her friend, and Gairi eagerly stuck out her hand somewhere between Niles and Rosie, as if she couldn’t decide who she wanted to shake hands with first. She looked ready to bounce off the walls.
“Lakshmi Agrawal,” she said as Niles set his pen aside and came to his feet to accept the proffered handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Lakshmi,” he said, smiling in an effort to encourage her to relax. “We’ve been admiring your costumes from up here. You did a great job.”
Rosie likewise stood and shook their hands before sitting again, with Niles following suit. “How are you enjoying the beta, Charity?” she asked as she began inscribing something on one of the glossy pages of the booklet. Niles lifted an inquiring eyebrow, and Lakshmi spelled her name for him as Charity effused over her play-through so far. Niles and Rosie traded off the items to autograph while the girls bantered.
“I’m still so freaking jealous you won that drawing for the beta key,” Lakshmi interjected, nudging her friend. Then she gave Niles a long-suffering look. “Don’t worry, she’s following the NDA. She won’t even give me spoilers.”
Lakshmi grumbled, and Niles laughed. At a fleeting glance from Rosie, he produced a card from his shirt pocket and offered it to Lakshmi. “Here. Your very own beta key, for having such an awesome costume.”
Her dark eyes grew huge, and she and Charity beamed at each other. Niles and Rosie handed their memorabilia back and stood to shake their hands again, Rosie adding an extra pat and a squeeze when she clasped Charity’s hand.
“You did good, standing up to those guys out there,” she said sincerely. “Keep it up. Don’t let them win, okay?”
Charity nodded eagerly, and the young women hurried away to make room for the remaining fans to slip in before the autograph session closed.
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