PWNED: A Gamers Novel
Page 17
A level-capped toon ran up to the trio and jumped up and down for their attention. He was a guildless human rogue named Boon.
“Hey,” he said in Reid’s voice. “It’s me. I still had your GroupSpeak line.”
Mansex stopped dancing. She and Bandaid glared. The Truth just turned back to his fishing.
“Boon, huh?” said Mansex. “Surprised that name wasn’t taken.”
“It was. I paid some Fillipino kid $200 for the name.”
“You had another 100?” asked Bandaid.
Boon shook his head. “Boy Howdy deleted my main after Greef took him for a spin. Dude downloaded an illegal mod that let him go PVP against his own faction, and that was enough for a death sentence, so…” he shrugged.
“So this is an alt?” asked Mansex. “Doesn’t it take like 500 hours of gameplay to hit 100? Or did you find another guild to fuck over?”
“I did it solo,” said Reid. He was glad they couldn’t smell him, or see the compost heap his apartment had become
Bandaid whispered something to Mansex. The two got up and left without a glance Boon’s way.
“It’s okay that you hate me,” Boon said on the GroupSpeak line. “That’s entirely justified. But it’s not too late—I know how to fix things. About the sword, I mean. We can still get the Godsword back if we hurry.” They kept walking.
“They can’t hear you.” The voice was one Reid hadn’t heard before, strong and smooth, supple as a pair of weathered leather gloves.
Boon wasn’t sure who’d spoken. The voice was teasingly familiar. “They can’t?”
“They’ve switched lines. It’s the only reason I’m talking to you now.”
The only nearby player tranquilly cast his line into the lake. No, it couldn’t be. “The Truth? Is that you?”
The Truth nodded.
“All that time?” said Boon. “All that time, you were listening? Hearing every conversation, every word?”
“Words are distractions,” said The Truth, “Man’s attempt to encapsulate the ineffable. People hide behind them, even past the point where what they want is patently clear. Actions are where to look for truth and character—they’re one and the same. As it was when you betrayed us.”
Reid wasn’t going to argue. “I don’t have any excuses. I screwed you. All of you, and I’m sorry. I… didn’t have my head on right, not that that matters.”
“What has been done cannot be undone. The past is gone, lost to us all. The future is unwritten and unknowable, a blank canvas.”
Ha, thought Reid.
“If you want change,” said The Truth, “take action in the present. Only the now is within your grasp.”
“That’s…” That was very much like what his grandmother would have said. “Thank you.”
The Truth turned back to his fishing.
“Okay,” said Reid. “Here’s what I came to say. Please just hear me out, and please pass this on to Yanker if I can’t find her today.” I always seem to be looking for a woman in this game. “We’ve still got a chance to get the Godsword back.”
The Truth cocked an ear.
“Greef doesn’t know how to use the Godsword. He wasn’t there when the First God spoke, so he didn’t get the directions or the quest he needs to redeem the reward. The quest giver he’d have to turn the Sword in to is still there—I’ve checked—and I’m guessing that means he’s got to go back to the moon to get the quest, right? But the only way back is through another Moongate, and I know where the next one is going to be.”
When he hadn’t been leveling Boon, Reid had spent the month combing forums and rumor sites. He joined pick-up groups for dungeon raids and helped other players find the clues, and took notes instead of his share of the loot. He’d pieced together where and when the next gate would open along the way.
“And that’s where Something Wicked will be,” he finished, “camping the dungeon until the Moongate opens. That’s where we hit them and take back the Sword.”
“And where’s that?” It was Bandaid who asked. Boon turned to see her and Mansex standing atop the hill by the lake. They must have started listening in again.
“Our backyard,” he told them, “the Moonhollow Ruins, straight through there.” Boon pointed towards Inkwood, the zone Yanker warned a Level 1 Noob to steer clear of ages ago. “What do you say? Are you in?”
“Mm.” Bandaid pursed her lips, regarded Mansex. “I’m in if Yanker is.”
“That’s good enough for me. Where is Yanker?”
Bandaid and Mansex looked at one another. “We don’t know,” said Mansex. “Haven’t seen her since you turned coat. So hooray, we don’t have a ranger. Or a leader. Don’t tell her I said that, okay?”
“She hasn’t been answering messages or guild chat,” said Bandaid. “I don’t know if she’s even playing any more.”
Boon grunted. “If she is, I think I know where.”
Reid found Yanker watching the dragon from the edge of the glen, and sat Boon down beside her. “I figured you’d be here.”
She didn’t look at him. “Thought you were leaving the game.”
“I did.”
“So what brought you back?”
Boon rubbed his hands. “I’m gonna assume you’ve been listening in.” She didn’t contradict him. “Tonight’s the night the new Moongate opens. The Wickeds have already gone into the dungeon by now.”
“And you know that how?”
“They burned down the monastery on their way in. It’s kind of their thing. Also, I’ve got someone on the inside. If we hurry, we can still catch Greef before the Moon Door opens. It’s not too late to get the Godsword back.”
She scoffed. “I don’t really care about that any more.”
“You should.”
“Oh, and why’s that?”
“Because it’s not a weapon. It’s not a trinket, not an artifact, not anything you can equip.”
“Whoop-de-shit.”
“It’s an invitation.” She blinked and turned to look at him. “A Guest of Honor invitation to the next HowdyCon.”
“Is that all?”
“No. The Godsword’s literally a seat at the table with the creators of the game. A two-hour window to talk Fartherall Online with the people who are making it. It’s your chance—share your philosophy, impress them, and get yourself hired. They’ll listen to you—you’re the person who got to the Godsword first, with a five-person team. They’ll listen. And even if they don’t, other companies will be there. It’s a foot in the door. No bullshit.”
Her eyes were huge.
“But,” he continued, “if the Wickeds get to the Moon and Greef carries that sword into the First God’s casket, that’s it—he’ll know where to turn in the sword, and the Wickeds will get the seat at the table.”
“What about your girl? The one you needed the sword for.”
“Turned out she hadn’t been my girl for a long time.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s for the best. So—we get the Sword from the Wickeds before they get to the First God’s Tomb, you’ve got a shot at your dream job. A shot—it’s only a meeting; you’ve got to do the rest. And you’ll never have to see me again. I mean it this time.”
Boon stood up, smoothed his garments. “If you’d like to help, we’ll be in the Moonhollow. Be careful in Inkwood. It’s absolute death in there.” He strode back up the path.
Yanker watched him go, and went back to watching the dragon.
“You’re sure they’re here?” asked Bandaid. There were no other guilds around, no one killing each other to be first through the portals. “It’s dead out here.”
“No raids killing each other,” said Mansex. “I kinda miss that.”
“And no extra security,” said Bandaid. “No titans, golems or whatever.”
“As far as the player base knows, the Godsword’s claimed and gone,” said Boon. “And I’m gue
ssing Boy Howdy isn’t going out of its way to advertise that it isn’t.”
“True dat,” mused Mansex.
“Even the people finding the Moonchart clues think they’re leftovers from drop tables that haven’t been updated.”
“Maybe I’m missing something,” said Bandaid, “but how are we even supposed to follow them in? We’ll get our own instance of the dungeon and be in a completely separate space.”
“Normally, yes,” said Boon, “but I downloaded the mod the Wickeds used to follow us.”
“Oh, great. So we’re cheating.”
“And if we get flagged—and I’m guessing we will if we pull this off—”
“That’s pretty much a certainty,” said Mansex.
“—then only my account will get nuked. The rest of you will be fine.”
Mansex nodded. “Works for me. Bandy? Truth?” They both nodded.
A rustle from the woods.
Boon grinned. “And that’s everyone. Let’s do this.”
Finding them hadn’t been hard. Boon just followed the trail of dead cultists to the circle of stones at the dungeon’s end. The Wickeds had been thorough—The Pwnies didn’t pass a single patrol on their way in.
Boon peered over a mound of collapsed wall at the horde of Wickeds.
“Looks like they’re feeling confident enough not to post sentries,” said Mansex.
“Who needs sentries?” said Bandaid. “They’ve killed everything in the dungeon.” Greef was pacing back and forth in front of the dead Wendigo.
Something wasn’t right. Yanker spoke up. “Is it just me, or are there way too many Wickeds over there?”
“Shit, she’s right,” said Mansex. “This is a five-person dungeon, but the Moon was a raid, so you can get fifty toons through an instance for that.”
“But that’s more than a raid,” said Bandaid. “There’s got to be a hundred players over there.”
“More than that,” said Mansex. “That’s their entire guild.”
“Everyone?”
“Yerp. I’m on their guild forums now. The place is a ghost town. Every last member of Something Wicked is here. They’re using that cheat mod to follow themselves in and bulk up their numbers.”
“Right,” said Yanker. “We’re leaving.” She started back down the hall. The rest of the guild trailed after her.
Boon unstealthed in front of Yanker and blocked her path. “Where are you going?”
“Somewhere safe. I don’t feel like getting killed and camped today.”
“We can still get it back!”
“Look, he stacked the deck, okay? Not even we can fight those numbers. They’ve got us beat thirty to one. We’re a tiny guild. We’ve got 500 levels to their 15,000 plus. It’s suicide.”
“Then… we’ll get monsters to fight for us!”
“What monsters?” She pointed to the nearest dead patrol. “Those guys? That dead-ass Wendigo? They’ve wiped the entire dungeon. There’s nothing left in here to kite.”
“You’re right,” said Boon. “Nothing in here.”
“This might not even work,” said Yanker. She and Boon peered through the curtain of trees. The great dragon had nearly completed its latest circuit through the glen.
“If it doesn’t, I’m out of ideas,” said Boon. “You’re the genius strategist. I’m scraping the barrel here.”
Yanker grunted. She nocked an arrow and took aim at the dragon.
“… Jodie?”
She slackened her grip and glared at him.
“I told you not to call me that.” She didn’t lower the bow. “I don’t want to be called that. My name is Yanker. Jodie’s pathetic.”
“Why do you do that?” asked Reid. “Why do you beat up on yourself?”
“Oh, like you care, now. You wouldn’t understand. This is all I get. This is where I’m real. Jodie’s life in the meatspace is just baggage.”
“You’re talking like this is the only place you have any value.”
“Sounds right to me.” She turned back to the dragon. Her bow arm was shaking.
“But it’s not! Most of the people in this game are assholes!”
Now she lowered the bow. “Did you just call me an—?”
“No! No, just listen to me! Oh, this isn’t going well.”
“I’ll say.”
Boon stepped in front of her bow. “What I’m trying to say, is that you don’t need the game to be amazing.”
“You have no idea who I am.” She drew back the arrow.
“You’re right!” yelled Boon. “I don’t! And I thought I did. I actually thought for a while that I was falling for you because I’m so inexperienced at actual human interaction that I can’t tell a woman being nice to me from flirting.” This hadn’t been what he was planning to say, but it call came out in a rush. “I don’t know, I thought maybe we’d do that bullshit romantic comedy thing where we ‘save each other with our magical love’ or whatever. But the truth of it is this. You were nice to me, and took me in, and I’m a terrible and selfish little shit who screwed you. And I’m really, truly sorry for that, and I really want you to get that meeting with the designers, because if there’s anyone Boy Howdy needs to hear from about their game, it’s their best. Player.”
Yanker stared at him. Blankly? Incredulously? It was hard to tell with the game’s limited animation trigger sets. “You thought I was falling for you?”
“Yeah. And that it was mutual. And we’ve never even met. Crazy, huh?” He tried not to let his voice shake.
She shrugged. “Not as crazy as this.” She fired, and the dragon stormed toward them with a bloodcurdling roar.
Boon fell in to sprint alongside Yanker as they tore back through Inkwood, the enraged dragon at their heels. “You just shot the dragon.”
“I totally did,” said Yanker. “Never done that before. I’ve aggroed her a couple times when I got too close, but never intentionally. That was awesome.”
“I guess sometimes you have to shoot the dragon.”
“Yep. Mind the fire.” She jumped and pulled him over a gout of dragon flame that set the woods ablaze. They dove through the black circle an instant before the flames would have hit.
Nothing came through behind them.
Boon and Yanker peered back out the instance. They could see Inkwood swirling there in the inverted colors, but no dragon.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” Boon told Yanker. “She’s probably on her way back to the glen by now.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Yanker.
“Do you want to try again?”
“Nah, not really.”
“You won’t get the Sword.”
She shrugged. “I’m out of ideas. So much for the game’s best player, eh?”
A scaly tail lashed through the instance and slapped Boon down the corridor. He pulled himself up just in time to see a supremely pissed off dragon squeeze through the instance, shooting fire like a drunken volcano.
Yanker backpedaled past him through the hall, firing ice arrows at the dragon. “I think it worked!” she yelled, and vanished around a corner.
Yanker was taking the long route, leading the dragon around a side loop to the heart of the Moonhollow. Boon sprinted back to the boss chamber—if he hurried, he should be able to beat her there. The rest of the
“It worked, I take it?” asked Bandaid.
“Get ready,” he told them. He dropped into stealth and snuck around the corner into the heart of the ruins. Not that he needed to stealth—Wickeds were killing time, with no idea that they’d been followed.
“Just about there,” Jodie said in his ear.
Boon ducked behind a pillar. Wickeds milled in the chamber before him. Greef was dancing over the dead Wendigo, b
obbing occasionally to teabag it. Standing next to him was Redstar.
* * *
Reid opened a chat window on his desktop.
CheeZeus: I’m in position. Behind the pillar.
A few seconds later came the reply.
RedStar89: About fucking time.
CheeZeus: Sorry, getting her to come along took some
convincing.
CheeZeus: Thanks so much for helping.
RedStar89: Any time. We’re on line 4455169.
CheeZeus: Package is almost here.
RedStar89: This had better be awesome.
Reid grinned.
CheeZeus: Oh, it will be. When have I ever let you
down?
CheeZeus: Don’t answer that.
He switched back to the game.
“Okay,” Jodie said in his ear. “Go.”
Boon stepped into view, put fingers to his mouth, and whistled. The action broke his stealth.
With all eyes on him, Boon gave a wave, stuck his butt in their direction, and slapped it.
The Wickeds raised bows and guns and readied spells. I certainly hope this works.
There was a deafening roar behind him. Yanker bounced past just as the Wickeds fired.
Boon dropped into stealth, and Yanker hit the floor. Magic and missiles screamed through where they’d just been and straight into the dragon.
In a millisecond, the dragon had swiveled to target the greater threat—the guild that just shot it in the face—and belched a river of napalm into their ranks. Burning Wickeds flailed in all directions, setting untouched comrades on fire and perishing before their healers could react.
“Dear God.” Mansex’s voice was quaking with emotion. “They should have sent a poet.”
Boon unstealthed behind his former guildies. “Hold back a tick. Let the dragon do the work.”
“You think I want to miss this?” Mansex sounded like he was wiping away tears. “Thank you, Reid. It’s perfect. How did you know?”
Greef staggered about in the middle of the chaos, shouting at his guild to fall into ranks.
The dragon slammed her tail to the ground and shattered the floor. The shockwave toppled the nearest standing stones onto the front line of Wickeds. A quick gout of fire took care of any survivors under the stones.