Chapter Four – This World: Two

Visgar tried not to act awed by the city as they walked through, but he was. Everything was new. Everything was incredible. Buildings, roads, trees, fences, sidewalks, parks, taverns, inns! All of them were things he’d been able to see from his balcony but never had he experienced them so closely. People wore all sorts of cloaks and tabards and robes and shoes, and all manner of articles. They were, one and all, new, but that didn’t even take into account everything other than the people!

“So weird to see the city without all the players,” Barringer murmured as they walked.

“Players?” Visgar asked, confused.

The man stopped walking and blinked. “You… jeez, I’m really starting to think I underrated this game in my review. How come you didn’t talk to me on my first toon? You know what players are?”

The king took a moment to contemplate his answer, ignoring the first question entirely since he didn’t understand it.

“Players are people playing a game, as far as I understood the word,” King Visgar said. “I get the sense that you’re speaking about something different. Something a bit more important.”

Barringer eyed the king sharply then. “Are you… one of those A.I. experiments Gypsenergy was doing? I thought there was only the jellyfish girl, and she doesn’t look anything like you.”

Visgar narrowed his eyes, annoyed. He didn’t know what an A.I. was and had no interest in drawing still more attention to his ignorance. “Answer my question, adventurer.”

“Whoa, hey, easy there, gramps. Just asking. Uhm. Players. Right. People who… enter this world and you know. Play the game. Go on quests?” he said awkwardly.

“You mean adventurers,” the king said, knowing for a fact that he gave adventurers quests. He did it every cycle. He was doing it in several separate instances of himself at that very moment.

“Uhm. Yeah. Players, adventurers, like me. Same diff,” the boy said.

His understanding of the language was sometimes lacking. Most of the words he’d discovered had been from reading the books in his chambers, or listening to the adventurers. Many of them continued talking as he accomplished his task, so when they said things like, ‘Same Diff,’ or ‘Jeez,’ he’d picked up their meaning from context. Still he found himself more and more annoyed by the difficulty he had in parsing their strange butchery of the words he’d spent so much time trying to learn from his books.

Aristotle, Odysseus, and even King Baratheon never used words like “Toon.” Fortunately, with thousands upon thousands of instances of himself, he’d had plenty of time to learn. A question here. A small request there and any answer he needed usually came from the adventurers. ‘Gramps,’ made no sense to him though, but he’d already revealed how little he knew of the world to Barringer.

He thought it best not to appear too uniformed to any single adventurer. Instead of asking Barringer what the word meant, another instance of him staying far more true to the original Task, asked a young girl what the word ‘Gramps’ meant.

Grandpa. Grandfather, as it turned out. Well. He supposed that sounded regal enough as he focused his attention back to Barringer and let his other instances continue unabated while stroking his long beard in thought.

So, adventurers, or players, all came to his city in order to do quests. His Task was giving quests to them. Facilitating their needs. A good king served his people. Made their lives better. His books were quite clear on the matter.

Bad kings created strife, poverty, and nations of unhappy people, so it pleased him to think that he had already been acting as a good one, without even knowing it.

“I am glad to know that my Task has aided my people,” he beamed.

He frowned at the man when he began laughing.

“This amuses you?” Visgar asked, offended.

“Nah nah. It’s fine. You do you, my King dude. Anyway, the Wilderlands are right through this gate,” Barringer said as they walked through.

The world faded to black momentarily. Sudden terror gripped the king but it disappated as brightness returned to the world. Instead of being just outside the city walls, he found himself nearly two hundred meters away from them at the edge of a vast plain. A long path wound through the rolling hills and from his position he could see for what felt like an eternity.

Even so, his view from the balcony in his castle was better still, and he found himself underwhelmed by the distant horizon, so similar to what he always saw. The near, however, was another story entirely.

Men and women ran around the outskirts of the city, the edge of the wilderlands, fighting and slaying tiny bug creatures that repulsed him the moment he saw them.

“Wh-what are those… things!?” he hissed.

“Trash mobs. These little guys are where all adventurers start out usually. They respawn almost immediately so you’re never fully rid of them, no matter how many players attack them,” Barringer said.

The name hovering above most of the creatures heads was “Screm Beetle.” The little things had black shells that opened out into wings that allowed them to hover near most of the adventurer’s heads as they fought.

Idly, Barringer pulled out a bow and arrow and drew the string. The sharp twang that emanated from the weapon made the king jump when Barringer fired. He watched in awe as the arrow neatly pierced one of the disgusting bugs. A number appeared above the creature’s head while the beetle itself dissolved into nothingness.

-21 hp. Critical!

“Oneshot. Nice!” Barringer exclaimed.

“So… adventurers spend their days killing these bugs?” Visgar asked, uncertainly.

“Ah… kinda. So, listen, I’m all for good world building but aren’t you supposed to give me a quest? Kinda hoping to unlock the labor menu before bed tonight?” he said.

Visgar had to think a moment before he realized what the man was asking. “Oh! You want your quest? Yes, of course. I’m sorry to have kept you for so long. Thank you for this though. I have longed to see this place for many cycles.”

“Whatever dude,” Barringer said dismissively. “I’m just ready to start shooting things.”

The king scowled. Was a king not supposed to be afforded respect?

“Indeed…” the king murmured. He began reciting the lines the Task always had for him, but somehow felt that the whole script was… awkward now. Silly. A fairy-tale, told to a child grown old.

He felt strange after he finished with the Task. The instance of himself in the wilderlands disappeared after he gave Barringer his quest, returning his awareness to the many other instances of himself interacting with other players.

He began to question more. Learn more. In fact… since each adventurer visiting his home created a separate instance, would it be so hard to make the Task include…?

Almost as he thought it, a new instance of himself appeared. The only difference was that this one had no adventurer to pander to. No unknown deeds in the wilderlands to laud. No. This instance was simply himself.

Free to do as he wished. One permanent instance of himself that would never be beholden to adventurers. And he sought to learn.