Quest - Shovels to Swords

The world enveloped his senses before he fully comprehended the shift. Sounds like chirping birds and distant, flowing water slowly washed away behind the chrous of hard labor that went into rebuilding after some major conflict. As light filtered into his eyes and the disjointed scene came into focus, Ayl felt his breath catch in his throat.

"I'm not in Brookings anymore," he managed to gurgle as his body synched up to the Dive, and he started to feel previously numbed appendages as though they were his very own. His body ached only for a moment before the augmented reality corrected it and optimized his condition.

"Oi!" came a guttural call from nearby. He realized that the voice had attempted to call him multiple times already, as though his body were waiting to be filled with a spirit before he ever created the character. "Get over here and fall in line, recruit. We have work to do if you're going to keep this land safe!"

As he jogged toward the indicated position, Ayl opened his menu and toggled his skills. Various melee options and statistics he had hand picked were there- thankfully- and despite the departure from traditional RPG, the youth felt at peace with his new surroundings.

Every breath was warm, and filled with life. "First thing, Lancers, to arms!" The master-at-arms plucked a handful of Spears from his sizable collection and tossed them at a variety of people. Ayl caught his in a tight fist.

"Next, swordsmen...!"

 

Immediately, Bast knew something was wrong with his setup. He could move but he wasn’t moving right and sometimes there were unexpected pauses between his actions and his avatar’s appropriate reaction. What was this? Lag? Calibration error? It was definitely something he would have to look at but after spending hours setting everything up, he just wanted to play the game. Admittedly, this was his first foray into the world of VR and due to the fact that he was a poor guy with a low paying job, his equipment probably wasn’t ideal for the needs of the full dive technology.

The cool-haired warrior was trying to get the hang of the controls and their intricacies, doing his best not to be overwhelmed by the raucous shouting and busy goings of that initial starting area. Unfortunately, he didn’t get long before he heard the thunderous call above all the noise, calling for the swordsmen to join the ranks already falling into line.

“Oh geez,” he muttered quietly as he sidestepped then shuffled forward in a half strafe to join shoulder to shoulder with the other new players. Bastille was quickly introduced to his starter weapon which, with the heft you’d expect from a two-handed sword, crashed into the barely protected expanse of his chest before dropping to the ground at his feet. Now scrambling, he dropped to the ground and wrapped his hands around the handle of the mighty weapon, heaving it up and onto his shoulder. The additional weight offset his poor stance and caused him to stumble back a large step.

He rejoined the line after his last misstep. His sweeping gaze washed over the others at his sides, wondering just how many had seen that poor display of coordination. Either way, he straightened his back and pulled his shoulders square, drawing that six foot plus frame up to his full, imposing height.

Bastille had no idea what he was doing.

@Aylwerd

 

"Alright, maggots!" the instructor sounded almost like a drill sergeant from the fifties, albeit with a drawl that sounded more comical European than anything American. The handful of NPCs did not seem amused, so Ayl deigned not to laugh, either. "Listen up. These weapons are your livelihood from this day forward. Without them, you are most assuredly dead men."

He brandished his sword proudly and it glistened in the soft sunlight that radiated from above. "Astorean soldiers are new in terms of tradition, but we are a fiercely proud, strong bunch. It was the strength of our people that held off Falderen, and every ounce of that strength lies dormant within every one of you."

Ayl glanced around and noticed another player nearby, one with a sword instead of a lance. He discreetly greeted him when the Master-at-arms looked away.

"Do you understand any of what he's saying?" Ayl whispered.

"A swordsman has two tasks," the master explained, "the first to draw in and intercept the enemy, and the second to assure no harm befalls his brother soldiers. It is your duty to become skilled, because when you fall, the line falls with you."

He turned to face Aylwerd and Bastille, the first of whom snapped quickly back to attention with a bead of sweat at his forehead.

"As for spearmen, your skill lies on a more aggressive path. You will learn to glean and exploit the weaknesses of your foes, and you will be taught a myriad of destructive attacks that will make you among the most feared in the Astorean ranks."

He leaned in to Ayl, and his gruff voice belched out. "Fewer still of you will go on to truly master your craft."

 

These weapons are your livelihood…

Bastille was greeted with memories of the old military movies his father watched on repeat. He hated them for the most part but could appreciate the camaraderie often displayed by the soldiers on the battlefield. That is what he yearned for – to be a part of a team that depended on one another. Granted, this was a video game and far displaced from reality but still, it was likely something he could find within Terrasphere without the terror that went hand and hand with actual war.

Bast zoned back in from his reverie when the player character next to him, a teal haired man with a lance, addressed him with a question.

“Huh?” he quietly questioned initially. The words finally settled into him. “Oh, no, I didn’t read anything about the lore before jumping in. I probably should have picked up the manual or read a wiki before getting this far. I’m probably going to regret it.”

The Master-at-arms made his way back down the row and explained, rather shouted, the importance of a swordsman’s role. Bastille could only nod his head enthusiastically as the description resonated with him. That is exactly what he wanted. He wanted to be that guy – the imposing tower that stood between his allies and the enemy, ensuring that no harm would befall them. Delusions of grandeur danced in his head already and he wasn’t afraid to admit, those daydreams got Bastille fired up.

He looked to Aylwerd as the boisterous master went on to talk about spearmen.

“Awesome. So, I’m the tank and you’re the DPS? I really should have read about the classes before making a decision. I just saw a big sword and – well – I was sold at that point. I’m Bastille, by the way.” He was probably talking over the NPC at this point but as he figured this was like any other game, the NPC was just a dummy on a routine spouting the same script on repeat as new warriors wandered in.

“I'm used to just skipping quest text so this is a change of pace... Listening to this guy drone on.”

 

"Same here," Ayl began to reply, "I got the client in an Email from a friend, and-" just as quickly as he spoke up, the trainer NPC cuffed him upside the head with a swift slap

"Talk later," the suddenly-much-more-real man asserted, "what you're learning now may very well save your lives." He looked between the two players and assessed them wordlessly, then nodded slightly when he seemed to approve. "Now then, break into pairs. I'm going to teach you how to utilize some of your basic defensive maneuvers."

Aylwerd predictably broke away with Bastille, and the two men faced each other awkwardly for a moment as Ayl fumbled with the in game chat client. If he couldn't speak, maybe he could convey the words secretly, through text.

This isn't quite like any Roleplaying Game I've dealt with in the past. The in game content is immersive and interactive like nothing else on the market. He even slapped me for not paying attention.

"Now," the Master Warrior chimed in, "first, dodging, then parrying, and last, the counterattack..."

 

It was enough for Bastille to witness Aylwerd getting hit upside the head for him to cease conversation. He wasn’t about to get slapped, too – although, he was pretty much the instigator of the initial chat to begin with. However, a part of him was curious to how the game registered pain. He figured he would find out soon enough.

Soon after they split off into pairs, Bast received a message as indicated by the little popup now showing in his HUD. He clearly wasn’t well-versed in the mechanics of this game judging by his overall lack of information regarding Terrasphere, so he was struggling with finding out how to actual open up his menu. Bastille was dragging his fingers through the air, trying to touch the fabricated indicators and icons of his display without success.

“How the heck do I open my menu?” he said in a hushed whisper, trying his best to be quiet.

Not quietly enough, it seemed. The nearby Master-at-arms approached him quickly from behind and swiftly knocked his legs out from underneath him with a firm leg sweep. Bastille’s whole world was flipped on its head as he crashed to the ground with a tremendous groan. There was that pain he was hoping to experience. Now, he was wishing he didn’t. It felt... exactly as he would expect it would in the reality beyond this one. Perhaps a bit muted but it was shocking and painful none the less.

“That—“ the Master-at-arms emphasized, “is a failure to dodge in the highest regard. Take lesson, warriors, that is exactly what you don’t want to do.”

By pure accident, as he was attempting to find his way to his feet, Bastille pumped his fingers into his palm and spread them wide, managing to open his menu. From the ground, he read through the message that Aylwerd had sent. Haphazardly, as he staggered back to a standing position, he replied to the message. It was simple. It was brief. It said everything it needed to.

Ouch.

 

Ayl stretched out a hand to aid the swordsman in finding his feet once more, but maintained a watch on the NPC in his peripheral vision. The game was quick to teach them that the experience was "role-playing" in the truest sense. They were no longer whoever they were outside Terrasphere. He was Aylwerd, an awkward, fledgling lancer.

And his newfound friend, fresh off the floor- his name was...?

"Aylwerd," he spoke quickly as he pulled the Swordsman to his feet. "And- watch it!"

Just as quickly as Bastille found his footing, Ayl wrenched him along as he danced out of the way of a stray stroke from one of the NPC's swords. "Excellent reflexes, recruit," the Master-at-arms praised," but you'll need to pay better attention than that if you expect to survive outside the city walls!"

Ayl let Bastille go with a huff. So much for the social aspect of the game coming naturally! The Lancer gripped his weapon tightly and stood upright, easing into a fighting stance with the weapon just out in front of him.

From what I've gleaned, opening the menu for skills is actually only programmed into the game for reference purposes. Everything now is directly transmitted from neural impulses captured by the headgear.

Simple though he made it sound, Ayl knew it was anything but.

For the sake of experimentation, imagine like you're doing everything with your own hands and feet. Start acting it out. It's almost like moving the limbs outside the game, only...

Not?

 

Bastille took Aylwerd’s hand and moved with his own strength as to not burden the other man with the bulk of his weight. Before he could respond to the lancer, he was given a strong tug out of the way of an incoming sword strike. Bastille hobbled a few steps forward once Aylwerd let me him go before quickly, and awkwardly, pivoting to turn and face the NPC that took a swing at the both of them. Now, stepping up to join at Aylwerd’s side, the warrior gripped his weapon tightly in two hands and brought it up in front of him in a defensive manner.

“Bastille,” he replied. “Bast for short. Either one works for me.”

He read over the messages quickly and a little more efficiently this time. He absorbed the information like a sponge but the thing about sponges, the moment you put the squeeze to them – they let everything go. Again, the NPC took a swinging charge at them and momentarily, Bastille froze. However, rather than let himself get clobbered with a full force slash attack, he instinctively reacted by taking a step forward while simultaneously lifting his great sword to cross paths with the incoming melee strike. It wasn’t a hard thing to do when your sword was nearly the size of your own body.

The blades engaged one another with the familiar sharp sound of metal striking metal. Bastille could feel the NPC’s blade as it slipped down the long edge of his great sword but before the swordsman could disengage, he twisted and wrenched his body in a manner that allowed his sword to secure dominance and force the NPC’s blade point toward the ground.

It also opened up a moment where Aylwerd could take the initiative to strike and possibly even bypass the swordsman’s defenses.

If they were lucky.