Post by Tucker Brice 8:45 PM April 4th, 20XX

Did you all know that this so-called godlike Passivity thingy don’t work on farm animals? Yeah, that’s right. Apparently, it’s not gonna force us, good hardworking farmers, out of business. And All you vegan folks saying this is the end for us meat lovers can go take a long walk off a short cliff. I love my steak and I'm not givin' them up.

The familiar white room appeared before me like a wind from the past. The last time I’d been here, I was a desperate young fool, just trying to escape a calamity of my father’s making. A death. It didn’t work the way I hoped it would, and I was paying the price for that now. A price I was attempting to avoid by replacing my original character with a new one, letting me bypass the need to even go through with the heist and possibly upset the Crimsondahlia family.

A smiling elf sat before me and I could tell by a certain black bar that he was completely nude.

He cleared his throat. “Greetings Player Lorvinel Silvercat. What do you want?”

My fists clenched in my lap. “I want freedom.”

He nodded happily. “That’s true, but not all of it.”

He was right, of course. The Passivity Precept, while not perfect, while not without rules governing itself, was always right when it came to things like this. I closed my eyes and thought about it.

“I want to kill Jethia Ravenborn.”

Her avatar in the sim appeared standing beside me, frozen while condescendingly smiling. She wore a light tunic and pants and not the armor she usually had on while facing me.

“Go ahead, kill her.”

I stood and a knife appeared in my hands. I had imagined doing this thousands of times. This woman had tortured me. She’d had others torture me. And she’d forced me to do things I would regret. Forced me to betray and lie.

She snorted and threw a lock of hair over her shoulder. “What are you going to do, Lore? You can’t hurt me.”

I took a step forward and thrust the dagger into her heart. It wasn’t enough, so I did it again. Then I looked into her eyes. Shock, anger, and a hint of madness. Her hands lifted to wrap around my throat. Someone was yelling. My blood raced. Since my first two stabs weren’t enough to bring her down, I stabbed her again and again until she lay dead. I looked down at her as my breathing calmed but felt nothing. Not the satisfaction I thought I would or the horror of murdering my twisted jailor. Just empty.

Her body disappeared and so did the knife and the blood on my hands.

“Would you like to do it again?”

“No,” I said, voice hoarse. Had I been the one screaming?

“What about some of your other torturers? Would you like the opportunity to murder them as well?”

A woman appeared before me with blonde hair twisted into elegant roses. A cute pink dress fitted her thin form and pink sapphires glittered along her pointed ears. She had the face of a perfected being but her eyes gleamed with malicious intent. Evil.

Without my consent, my body started shaking. It remembered. Oh, it did. If I hated Jethia Ravenborn, then I feared that thing. Just as my vision started to blur her form disappeared.

“Forgive us. It appears that it’s too soon for that, after all. Do us a favor and forget.”

I found myself sitting back in front of the Passivity Precept Administrator, after having just killed Jethia. My mind felt hazy. Was I missing something?

“Are you certain you don’t wish to kill anyone else?”

“And waste more time with a false revenge? No. I’m fine.”

He nodded. “But freedom and revenge is not the only thing you want.”

A memory came to the forefront of my mind and I swallowed.

When I first entered the PPVS... when I escaped my death, the Ravenborns found me inside my clan’s ruined and captured in-sim estate along with most everyone else. And since they couldn’t find my father, they arrested me, using their highest quality prisoner’s collar while they used a normal one for everyone else within the estate, except a few lucky escapees. But despite their lack in quality, the collars were effective. And demeaning. Then, very quickly, their clan started “remanding” their prisoners into other clans’ custody who would then send “gifts” of high-level gear or things in real life. Many of those people were just as innocent and stuck in the PPVS as I was.

“I want to find and free my clan members.”

He nodded. “Correct. Now that we have that settled, what would you like your starting stats to be?”

A menu appeared before me showing a list of empty stats and an array showing 2.5, 3, 4, and 5 to put towards Athletics, Social, Health and Magic. The array that every race started with regardless. I pondered for a second then decided to create a bard again. 5 in Social, 4 in Magic, 3 in Athletics, and 2.5 in Health. Just before I hit accept I froze and stared at the Administrator whose broad smile had too many teeth.

“What is the price of creating a new character?” Because there was always a price.

“Ah, we would have gotten to that towards the end of the process when you chose your new Species, World, and Location.”

A bad feeling crept across my spine as he continued.

“You see, replacing your old character has a steep price, even with the discount you received. You know, since you’re essentially giving up on your past life.”

I glared. “Just tell me.”

His smile sharpened. “At this point in time, giving up, running away, replacing your original character like this, will cost you the following: the option to create another Elf Avatar — you’ll just have to choose something else; the possibility of your freeing your imprisoned clan members — we’re sorry, but by giving up on your old avatar, you’re essentially giving up on your goal to save them; and while we won’t remove your ability to get revenge on the Ravenborn Clan, we will move you to a far off newbie area that will prevent it from happening for a hundred in-sim years.”

The urge to stand and punch the administrator overwhelmed me... I would have done it too except that he had my limbs locked in place somehow.

“That’s too harsh for what I’ve been through!” I clenched my jaw.

“Perhaps, but we’d let you keep your gear, money and levels. We’d even allow you to be a bard again.”

If my glare could kill this administrator would have been paste on the floor. “I’d rather lose my levels than give up like that!”

His smile changed into one beaming with happiness and pride. “Good.”

And I fell.