Beta 1.0 Test

by Harley Vex

  Candi continues into the changing room and closes the door behind her. Her laptop sits on a small table beside the door. I piece together the scenario. Candi saw me struggling so she wasn't in the game during the time. She must have been about to go into the game herself when she did one last check on me.

  And now apparently, not learning how to cook could ruin everything.

  I wait for Candi to get changed. Don continues his hike, oblivious that I'm right there.

  I get out and wait. She emerges from the changing room a moment later, dressed in her professional suit that still adds curves in all the right places. Her green eyes invite me to say something while also warning me to be cautious. Then she flicks her gaze to the ceiling.

  And for the first time, I notice the round, black globes that hide cameras.

  "Thanks for checking up on me. How long was I in there?" I force a stupid, cringe-worthy smile.

  She crosses her arm and smiles. "Eight hours."

  "Eight hours?" My jaw falls open. Good job, Mike.

  "We cut people off after that amount of time," Candi says, acting as if she hasn't just told me that I'm one step away from a cliff. "Otherwise, we'll be breaking out adult diapers and that is not in my job description."

  "You'd need to demand hazard pay."

  Candi laughs. "Well, we have the minibar. Salvosera has no way to warn players they're spending too long in the game yet. The devs really need to work on that or they're going to deal with damage control. I've been watching your gameplay for the past few hours, off an on. You were getting involved. I was about to log into my own world, but I've already got in my twenty hours for the week, so I figured taking a break tonight might be a good idea."

  "Yeah. Maybe." Then I shake my head as I realize what she's saying. We can talk away from the hidden cams. "Um, Candi? Were you thinking dinner tonight? I'm starving, in Salvosera and in real life."

  Silence falls.

  We stare at each other.

  I've just asked Candi out to dinner. I might not have said date, but the meaning is there. She's hot. Out of my league, as Mike and Don warned me. There's no way—

  "Sure. I'm starving myself."

  —she'll say yes.

  She's just said yes.

  But before I can gauge the full situation, she whips out her phone. "How about Pizoli's?"

  * * * * *

  I've got no car so have to rely on one of the Salvos Corporation's Mercedes to get there. At least Candi and Don are authorized to use one of the four vehicles in the underground garage. She drives and we finally arrive at the restaurant, a fancy Italian place I've never dined at before.

  Just me and her.

  Out of your league, man.

  "I haven't been paid yet," I say, eyeing the fancy string lights and the elegant tables. "I don't think I can buy us—"

  "Don't worry about it. I have this." She flashes me a credit card in Anthony Anton's name and an evil grin at the same time. "The big cheese knows the testers need to get out once in a while."

  Candi has the CEO's credit card? Who is she, his long lost daughter? It's clear that we testers aren't on even ground, then. I haven't figured out this new world yet and I have to start now.

  Candi gets us seated at a small table in the far corner of the room. "How did you get that?" I ask, feeling small.

  She thumbs through her phone. The chances of this being a date? Currently five out of ten. "I've been with the testers for a few months. You get perks once you prove yourself." Her tone warns me not to press further.

  Chances of this being a date: now four out of ten, and it'll plunge to one or two if I keep asking prying questions. Maybe Candi signed a contract stopping her from talking about her role here. I hold back a sigh. Maybe she brought me here only to discuss how screwed I am if I don't figure out all of Salvosera's game mechanics by tomorrow. At least she gave me the clear signal on that. "So, I take it corporate is watching us all when we play."

  "Yes. I get access to the feeds, though they're not that interested in my opinion of the other players. They're all business types. Anthony Anton. Nate Hicks, the co-founder. And Robert Gratt, Andy's son-in law. I talked to them on the phone earlier. They expect more out of you, Mike." Candi leans forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. She taps her closed phone as she speaks as if it's very important. "I pitched you, but I agree you need time to figure out Project 93." Her gaze flicks to the surrounding diners. "The thing is, and I didn't know this, but Miriam was not supposed to alter your contract."

  I swallow as the chatter of the other diners seems to go up in volume. It fills my head and I get what she's saying.

  "Corporate doesn't like that they're paying me now," I hiss.

  Candi nods. "Miriam is on probation. You didn't hear this from me." She sits back and turns her gaze down to her menu. Almost as if she's ashamed to face me.

  Corporate never wanted to pay me.

  That's the mistake.

  But why is it a big deal? Anton's a millionaire. An eccentric recluse, but a millionaire. And I signed the contract. They can't go back now. But with the phone still sitting on the table, possibly monitoring our conversations if we're loud enough, I don't dare ask.

  I grab the edge of the fancy menu and pinch it between my fingers. I've got to change the subject. She's made it clear that I need to wow Salvos and all I can do is move to the next step. "I think I'm coming along in the game. Back in Creationist, I took forever to learn everything. I took my time." Candi had pitched me, that was for sure. I just hoped she hadn't made me sound like a charity case, trying to get dough for my sister.

  She swallows. "I explained that as well. You need time. We all do. But time is of the essence."

  I sit there as a waiter walks up and asks what we want to drink. Absently I order some root beer. Once he leaves, I say, "I understand. I need to step up my game." I can do that, but I might need some hints. Salvos wants that guy who made that auto mummy farm. A thousand drops per hour, max efficiency.

  "Beta testing is supposed to go into a new phase soon. I don't have all the details yet, so stay tuned." Candi takes her drink from the waiter, a glass of water. "Just don't cause any stinks."

  She means telling the other testers I'm getting paid. "I won't. You've got total cooperation out of me." A heavy feeling settles into my chest.

  Chances this is a date: currently two out of ten. Candi doesn't seem mad but she's not giving me any lovey-dovey vibes either. She's here as a friend, giving me advice.

  My root beer sucks and tastes watery. Despite the disappointment, I need more answers.

  Candi nods. "You get how it works."

  "I'm from a call center. Everston Hosting."

  She already knows that, though. "By the way, you did great against that Dreadmoth. And everyone dies to a Lavaworm early in the game. Consider it a rite of passage. Just don't forget your special obligations."

  "My what?" I don't remember reading that in my contract, but it had been late at night. "Special obligations?"

  Candi looks at me, all confused. "Yeah. Where you need to display your special skills?"

  "I swear I never read that." Did I miss a page? A hollow feeling fills my chest.

  "You might want to look at your contract again. I had Liz slide your copy under your door. Oh, she's another player," Candi said.

  "I will. But it just seems weird. All games have wikis. Why don't we have one we can share just amongst ourselves? I used the wiki for Creationist all the time when figuring out my builds. Salvos is making this very hard."

  "It's all new ground and they don't want any information online for competitors or hackers to find," Candi said, and not without regret. "I think you just need a bit more time. You're working on the farming, which should turn out to be a very good source of resources, and you're on your way to some mob traps."

  I drop my shoulders, glad she seems confident. "Hey, how the heck do you make an oven or campfire, by the way?"

  The waiter returns for our f
ood orders. We let him know what we want but Candi flashes me a frown as soon as he's gone.

  "Players aren't supposed to exchange advice," she says. "We can talk a bit, but pure advice is against the rules. We're all supposed to mold Salvosera in our own unique way." Candi fixed me in an intense stare and I know she's trying to tell me something. Each word might be important. "That's why they keep us all in the dark. Where the monsters are, so to say."

  "That makes sense. Maybe I need to take a break when I'm getting frustrated. Think over what I'm doing." Candi might not be interested in me in that way, but she's given me some help and some possible clues. She's still on my side.

  And I'm going to sleep on and mull over every single one of her words.

  Natalie's life might depend on it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I crash in my new apartment that night, landing on my bed and going over Candi's words. Shoving aside the disappointment that our dinner hadn't been a date, I eye the brown envelope Liz slid under my door that contains my copy of the contract. I should go over it again, but I need to deal with a couple of things first. One, I've got to fill in Natalie. Two, I need to figure out Candi's clues.

  We're all supposed to mold Salvosera. The monsters are in the dark. I've figured out that darkness spawns them already but Candi's provided confirmation that it might be usable for mob traps. I either have to find it or create it. The molding part just might have to do with making my first oven which I'm leaning towards instead of a campfire. But what about the farming? I'll have to explore that once I log back in tomorrow.

  There's something there beyond what I've suspected, then.

  I call Natalie from my position on the bed. "How's it going?"

  "Had my first treatment today. I feel like crap." Her voice is strained and tired. "Well, I've got two sick days left."

  "Don't worry. I get paid this Friday. Direct deposit, and then I'm sending most of it to you. Even if you lose your insurance, three grand per week adds up to well, a lot of cash."

  "It does. Mike, you're a literal lifesaver. And I should be fine so long as I get this treatment. I've got the more chronic form of leukemia."

  "But you don't need medical bills to ruin your life."

  She forces a laugh. "Well, some people say dying is easier than medical bills."

  I gulp. "Sometimes, it is. I've heard horror stories. And I still need to put in a word for you. See if Salvos needs a PVP person. I guess beta is supposed to go into a new phase soon and they want a certain lineup of players." So far, I've met a few of them, but not everyone. I'm guessing there are a half dozen players in this mostly empty apartment complex.

  "Well, I might not be up for it for a bit. So take your time. I've got a Last Man Standing tournament in half an hour. Gotta go."

  "Send me the link and I'll watch." I smile, glad Natalie is still able to play.

  I spend the rest of the night on my bed, watching the GameTube stream that Natalie's set up. I'm one of fifteen viewers. She's plays another one of Vox's awesome adventure maps, The Barrens, which is full of ruins that a dozen players raid for weapons and scarce resources. For the first hour, Natalie dodges other players scattered around the map, loots ruins for resources, and skirts death by Phantoms several times. Once the horn sounds at the end of that hour, she's teleported to the center of the map with the eight other players who are still alive, and I tense as I watch her dodge and shoot her Crossbow, taking down three people in a row.

  Natalie earns a few small donations and a new subscriber. Her side feed briefly fills with praise and emojis as she takes out the second-to-last opponent using an enchanted sword she found in a Loot Crate. But then the last player slays her from behind, leaving her in second place. Not bad.

  Only rarely does she place less than third.

  I give her a thumbs-up in the comments section, a donation of fifteen dollars (all I can manage at the moment) and go to bed, feeling hopeful for her.

  But I'm also sad to notice that neither of her new subscribers are CandiofSummer or AASalvosCorp.

  * * * * *

  Ding dong. I have my very first Salvosera mob trap.

  And better yet, it's only taken me a few more in-game days to figure out.

  The mob farm is even uglier than the House of Mediocrity and not super efficient, but for now, it works. My stomach rumbles as I look at the square, Damp Soil mini-skyscraper. It's dark inside but open at the front, but into a roofless chute made of more Damp Soil and filled with Common Leaves.

  "And behold," I say, "the Mike Wattles Swamp Ghoul Factory Farm."

  Since I've determined that I hate Swamp Ghouls (turns out they're tougher than Common Ghouls), they're my first target.

  And I've also discovered a handful of tips that I might add to a wiki in the future.

  1.) Swamp Ghouls have twice the health of Common Ghouls, but also twice the drops, making them more valuable than the wimpy type. And yes, they do only spawn in swamp water.

  2.) Monsters try to spawn all the time, judging from the sounds I hear underground. They're always limited to dark places, and some die in the sun.

  3.) Swamp Ghouls can spawn on the surface during the daytime so long as there's darkness over a body of swamp water. And yes, I built this eyesore over a pond of swamp water.

  4.) Higher Hostility levels make mobs spawn like crazy. Right here, it's 70. Which is good.

  5.) Swamp Ghouls are dumb enough to push through Common Leaves to get to me, even if they're, say, ten meters thick.

  6.) Mobs won't spawn less than twenty meters away from me, meaning I have to stand twenty-one blocks from my Factory Farm for it to start cranking out the livestock.

  "And during the day, I kill three Swamp Ghouls a minute just by standing here," I say, satisfied, from my spot at the end of the Slaughter Chute. "And that won't get annoying."

  The constant tune of Ghouls taking sun damage assaults my ears, but none make it to me before dying. All I have to do is stand there and wait. One by one, the monsters march out into the sunny arms of death.

  Before I really figured out my first trap, I had just one tiny problem: the Bones and the Putrid Flesh I need for compost would end up sitting deep within the leaves, jittering around and not glitching out at me like I'd hoped. That meant I had the choice between cutting the leaves away and replacing them each time I wanted my drops, or just accepting defeat.

  I needed a filter.

  So the in-game night before last, I went to the House of Mediocrity to think it over.

  Glass Panes.

  They're flat, easily placeable...and can be walked on like solid blocks. And no matter what I tried, they always placed vertically.

  I now had a way to separate items from dying monsters.

  The downside? Since I don't yet have an oven, I had to anger and explode a couple of Lavaworms and then attack the results with Pure Sand, but it worked.

  Once I had my resources, I dug a three-meter deep trench under all the leaves and replaced the Ghouls' walking surface with Glass Panes.

  And that brings me to my last point:

  7.) Glass Panes are great for mob traps and act as item filters. They even float when the dirt is dug out from under them.

  I stand back from the Slaughter Chute and watch as two Swamp Ghouls trudge towards me, turning red and taking damage. They fall over, deep in the leaves, and from this angle I see their drops fall through the Glass Panes and into the trench. I climb down my Common Plank Stairs and collect them, realizing that I've now got sixty Putrid Flesh and sixty-three Bones.

  This had better get me farming.

  Because my stomach has been rumbling for the past several in-game days and my limbs are still shaking from what turned out to be Fatigue. And my health is still crap. The only thing that's saved my life so far is the fact that Lavaworms are slow to burst into fire and lava, and they stay still while doing so, giving me time to dodge. The risk is having them sneak up behind you. Or having them burst close to your wooden house.


  Cursing the fact that I have no automatic way to collect drops yet, I walk back to the House of Mediocrity in the setting sun. It's visible between all the Common Trees, though my hastily-planted Mike Wattles Tree Farm blocks part of the view. Two rows of ten trees, planted from the somewhat-rare Common Tree Sprouts that drop from broken leaves, have already grown there.

  I've figured out what Candi meant by the darkness. It's the key to mob traps. I know I can probably do better once I explore and conquer some caves, much better, but I'm in no shape to do that right now.

  First, my health is still terrible and these mobs are tough.

  Second, I need to eat.

  Third, I haven't figured out how to light the Peat Torches I've managed to make.

  My knees shake as I enter what I call my yard. I've managed to make a Flint Backhoe and till some land next to my house, and was shocked to have a few Barley Seeds pop out of the grass when I did, which I planted. The crops are slowly growing, appearing as green dots in the tilled land, but at this rate I won't be eating for the next week. Clearly compost is something I need, so I place all my Putrid Flesh in the Compost Bin and enter my house.

  There's nothing I can do but wait on this front, so I turn my thoughts to my next issue: how the heck do I get an oven?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Okay, Candi. I get the darkness. I get the farming. Sort of.

  "What was that about players molding their experience?" I mutter, keeping my voice low in case Salvos is listening.

  I pace around the empty house and past a Storage Crate (made by filling a Crafting Grid with Common Planks.)

  "Molding. Experience. Sounds like an art class," I grumble. Then I stop, facing my front door. "Wait."

  Does clay exist in Salvosera? Clay, or mud, or something?

  Well, if mud existed that swamp would have had a massive inventory. Damp Soil's the closest and I've already caused enough ugly with that.