The easiest path is to simply acquiesce, go along quietly with whatever your rulers demand. Let their calculated lies and your creature comforts mislead you into a convalescent, false peace.

The other path is more intense and difficult: organizing oppressed people to replace the systems they've come to rely upon. The systems which have been used to make them unconsciously complicit with the greedy and corrupt.

Ava clutches her wrist where Horst's shackles have rubbed her raw. She looks around at the villagers. They think Horst has been keeping them safe, protecting the village from the Simulacrum. They look scared shitless now that he's mad.

But not Ava. She's not scared anymore. This is probably just a game, after all. She's just pissed that villains like Horst and her mother exist at all – even if only in virtual worlds.

And what does it matter, anyway? Real or not, there are people here who need her help.

The villagers mill in the road, murmuring. The energy is anxious and could turn to anger any second. Ava and Bach and Ellie stand in the middle of the thoroughfare, caught in the eye of the argument. Darby and Ostby Channing climb down from the butcher's rooftop.

“Relieved to see you're okay,” Ava tells Darby.

“Likewise.”

But the crowd couldn't care less. They're starting to blame these strange others for disturbing their long stretch of peace.

“Ostby!” shouts the man Ava knows is called Joffi, “just what the feck do you think you're doing? Did you maybe think to ask if we wanted to go to war with Horst?”

“We don't need to fight him,” cries a shrill voice, “let's just pick one of these three and let him have his hanging. I vote for the ugly ape missing his hand – what's his kind got to lose, anyway?”

“I have a family to think of, Channing!” shouts another angry citizen.

“I know, I understand,” the Deputy-turned-Sheriff tries to soothe the crowd, “I really do – I'm doing this for my own.” He looks down at Darby by his side.

“We don't even have means to fight him! You see that Clydesdale? That single machine could stomp this entire town flat.”

“If only we could contact Victor,” someone suggests, “maybe they'd have some weapons left from the old days.”

“If they have arms,” Darby shouts, loud to be heard over the squabbling adults, “they've already been shared with Horst. I've seen signs of their cooperation with my own eyes.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are no Scum in the mine,” he explains, “Horst and Victor have been working it together – I bet they never stopped. They just cut us out.”

“Bastards!”

“I never trusted 'em.”

“They aren't like us,” an old woman next to Ava croaks, “they're dirty, violent, diseased.”

“So what's the plan, Ostby?”

It's Remmick. He's sneering, re-emboldened by the town's despair.

“You're still here?” Ava snarls, suddenly intensifying the glow of her hand.

He shrinks back but so does the entire crowd. They're scared of her.

“You see what you're siding with?” Remmick cackles. “Freaks from No Man's Land. Outsiders! Probably Scum – certainly killers.”

“Better than collaborators,” Darby growls.

“You'd better rein that boy in,” Remmick warns Ostby, “or I'll do it for you.”

The murmur of the crowd is beginning to shift. Remmick is winning—the trepidation of the townsfolk is turning to anger—and it probably didn't help that Ava had to go and scare them all.

It's also not as if their anger is entirely unjustified. Ava and her companions did start all of this. They did come and disrupt what had been a peaceful arrangement – even if Horst has in fact been stealing the materials the town needs to thrive. At least they've been getting by. At least there haven't been Scum raids every night.

Suddenly two men in the crowd start to fight. Others are shoving and cussing. Just like that, Horst has divided them. Ava looks at Ellie. She looks as scared as some of these villagers. And next she turns to Bach. He just looks pissed. She'll take it. It's better than morose and apathetic like he has been during recent days.

“This is our fight,” she says to her companions, but Bach in particular “we put these events in motion. We're responsible for what happens to these people now.”

Ava's ears ring, mystical trumpets playing a reveille no one else can hear. It's disorienting at first, but then she smiles. As bizarre as it is receiving telepathic quest text from some invisible Dungeon Master it at least offers her some guidance. A blueprint on how to proceed. And first things first, it would seem prudent to try and rally some villagers to their cause.

But first Ava has to convince Ellie:

"How is this our fight?" She shakes her head forcefully. "We never intended to make trouble."

"But we did, anyway," Ava explains, "and we need their help, too."

"For what?" Ellie wonders.

"For Uri – he's going to need someplace to heal and rest."

And that settles it. Ellie clenches her jaw and nods.

"You're right. That sonova bitch Horst has to pay for hurting Benjamin."

"Who?"

"Uri. I meant Uri. Horst has to pay."

Ava smiles and claps her on the bicep. Was that manipulative? Maybe. But that's where they're at now. It's a battle for hearts and minds, and these people need to be reminded that they aren't ruled by their fears alone. They have agency, if they want to claim it.

Optional Goals: 1) Rally three townsfolk

Just any three? Ava wonders. And how will she choose? There must be close to a hundred townies milling here in the road alone.

She scans their faces: a lot of bared teeth, bulging eyes and flaring nostrils. But even as she begins to despair—wondering who she can convince to fight Horst instead of their neighbor—she catches a young man staring at her from across the thoroughfare. He flinches, embarrassed he's been caught staring, but Ava just waves him over with her weird, metallic appendage and he follows her command and crosses the road.

“Hi,” he says, kicking the dirt and blushing.

“Hi, I'm Ava.”

“I'm Paul,” he pauses, “and I don't know what to do. But I don't want to die.”

“We will all die,” Bach begins, “eventually.”

“But you're scared to be killed fighting Horst, right?” Ava clarifies.

“Yeah,” Paul says, “I mean, he's got everything. I've heard he might have a dragon, even. I just don't see the point in resisting if we're all going to die.”

“I heard something once,” Ava says, “it goes, 'a coward dies a thousand deaths; a hero dies but one.'”

[Pithy Statement] has been added to YOUR [Diplomacy Deck].

The heck does that mean? Ava wonders. There's no further explanation, but she can tell her words have had an impact. Paul looks distant for a moment, and then he begins to nod – slowly at first, and then a little quicker.

“You know what?” he says, suddenly resolute. “I don't want to die a coward. Fuck Horst.”

Optional Goals: 1) Rally three townsfolk – (1 of 3 complete)

“Fuck Horst!” Ellie screams, swept up in the moment.

The crowd answers back with louder murmurs. But louder on both sides, and Ava is encouraged. Paul smiles and there is fire in his eyes now. He goes off to join in the debate, having become an agent of resistance. Ava understands now. If she can convince two more villagers that fighting back is the right choice then the others will come around. She understands that if she can sway just two more townies it will allow them to form a militia.

“Who's next?” she scans the crowd and whispers – but Bach overhears.

“What's that?” he asks. “You say something?”

“Who's next,” she repeats. “We've got to get more of them on our side.”

“We've got to get them on their own side, really,” Ellie adds – and she's right. Horst is a conman. He's been robbing Cripple Creek of the materials they need to thrive. And who's suffered the most as a result?

“The blacksmith,” Ava mutters. She grabs hold of the nearest villager—a maid in a peasant dress, just trying to navigate passed the crowd on her way to work someplace—and asks, “who was the smith before Horst shut the mine?”

“Uh,” the maid trails off, brow furrowed, struggling to recall his name. “I can't remember. Forgive me – I've never had business at the Smith.”

“Where is his shop?” Bach asks, and the maid points down the thoroughfare.

There's only one structure down that way with a chimney sticking up through its roof. That must be it.

“Thank you,” Ava says, and she hurries off in that direction with Bach and Ellie close behind.

The blacksmith is drunk. His shop is in disarray. Nothing remains but the furnace, a single large anvil, a hammer, and the splinters from several smashed casks. He has no other wares. He has no other prospects.

“Do you intend to drink yourself to death?” Ava asks.

Sitting in a rocker beside his cold furnace he stares at her with glossy eyes and swigs from a skin of hooch.

“Say I do,” the blacksmith burps, “what fuckin' business is it of yours?”

“Well, I mean I just assume you weren't always this pathetic.” Ava crosses her arms.

“Well I assume you weren't always this pathetic,” he mocks, doing a poor but supremely irritating impersonation.

“There are no Scum in the mine,” Ava says.

“Bullshit.”

“It's true,” says Ellie.

“Horst has been lying to everyone,” Ava continues, “but you he's done even dirtier. He's stolen your entire livelihood.”

“I don't know who I am anymore,” the blacksmith blubbers, “without my work.”

“Horst is still working the mine. He's just cut Cripple Creek out. Cut you out.”

“You mean it?” he says, “you have proof?”

“We've seen it with our own eyes,” says Bach.

“Contemptible cocksucker,” the blacksmith curses. He wrings an invisible neck.

“We're going to fight him,” Ava says, “and we're going to win.”

“You really think so?”

“You're damn right I do. And when he's gone you can get back to doing your work. You can get back to being a vital part of this town.”

[Appeal to Ego] has been added to YOUR [Diplomacy Deck].

“I could be somebody again....” the smith sets his hooch-skin aside. Suddenly there's a clarity to his purpose. He squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them next he is steely and sober. He turns to Ava and asks, “what can I do to ensure that motherfucker gets what's coming to him?”

Optional Goals: 1) Rally three townsfolk(2 of 3)

“For now,” Ava says, “helps us convince your neighbors that resistance is the answer.”

“Yesh ma'am,” he slurs and stomps out of the smithy to argue in the street.

“Two down,” Ava says under her breath. And Bach is listening, and he smiles.

Time Remaining: 47 hours 39 minutes

Back outside the tide might be turning. The opposing sides have formed rival mobs, clearly delineated by a swath of road between them like street gangs on the verge of a rumble.

Lucky no one in Cripple Creek has a switchblade to pull, Ava morbidly muses.

The front-lines stand separated by only a few feet, screaming at one another. No one can hear to listen. It's all just noise.

In the center of the lines exists a microcosm of the larger conflict – the deposed Sheriff in a standoff with his former deputy. Ostby looks calm and confident. Remmick smirks smugly, his arms crossed. He loves the chaos.

All around them both, the rival mobs scream and slobber. Ava and Bach and Ellie watch from the sidelines. With tensions this high, wading to the center where Ostby and Remmick wait might provoke violence.

“This division will end us,” says a gray-haired, bespectacled woman standing beside Ava. She's holding a thick book against her hip with one hand and a canvas purse in the other. Ava looks closer and sees that the binding of the book reads: Lessons in Civics.

“It is sad that so many of your neighbors seem dead-set against their own best interests,” Ava says. The woman looks down at her—puzzled, at first—and then she smiles.

“Hello, young lady.” She kneels to be on Ava's level, to look her straight in the eye. “I'm Miss Sessions. And you are?”

“I'm Ava.” She gestures with a head nod, indicating, “this is Bach, and she's Ellie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintances. It would seem you're quite perceptive for your age – having already determined what qualifies as the 'best interests' of complete strangers.”

“Well it ain't too hard to figure out. Just like it's obvious you're the school teacher – it's plain to see that half these people just want to remain under Horst's boot because they're used to it.”

“And they're scared,” says Miss Sessions. “They don't have a lot, but they don't want to lose it.”

“But maybe they already have,” Ava argues, “maybe Horst has been taking it from them so slowly that they don't even notice what's already gone.”

“They have their homes,” Miss Sessions counters, “and they have food most nights.”

“But what about dignity? And couldn't they have food every night if the farmers could fashion proper plows?”

[Logic] has been added to YOUR [Diplomacy Deck].

Miss Sessions pauses to think. Ava nods slowly and lifts her eyebrow as if to say, “you know I'm right.”

“You are a talented litigator.” The schoolmarm smiles. “How old are you? Are you enrolled in school? The debate team certainly would benefit from someone with your talents.”

“Thank you,” Ava says, “but my calling is on the battlefield – not the debate stage.”

“Could be both.” Miss Sessions laughs. “The classroom is sometimes not so different from a warzone. Solidarity is required to triumph in either.”

Optional Goals: 1) Rally three townsfolk(3 of 3) COMPLETE!

Miss Sessions steps forward into the aisle between the opposing factions. She's making a beeline for the center – where Ostby Channing is locked in his standoff with Remmick. As she passes, the crowd on both sides calms, showing her uncommon respect. When she arrives at Ostby and Remmick she just stops and suddenly the crowd is completely silent, waiting for her to speak.

Ostby tips his hat. Remmick spits in the dirt and chews his tobacco.

“Gentlemen,” she says, “for the sake of our town it is time to resolve your differences. Each of us has more in common with each other than we do Horst. And only together can we hope to free ourselves from his oppression.”

Ostby looks Remmick in the eye and nods. He offers his hand. But Remmick just laughs and slaps it away.

“Thanks for the pep rally, Teach',” he jeers, “but you ought to go back to reciting your little lessons and leave the decision-making to the men-folk.”

The townsfolk aren't impressed. Those standing closest to Remmick shrink back like they smell something foul. He's just a coward and a bully. They turn their backs. They start to go home. Some line up to shake Channing's hand.

They say, “congratulations on your promotion, Sheriff. Please don't get us all killed.”

“I've lied. Taken bribes,” Remmick confesses, “I've covered up crimes and I've committed even more. And the worst part? I can live with it. I'm happy to. You wanna know why? I've done what I've done to protect every single one of you and I don't regret a thing. Without me appeasing Horst, every last one of you is already worm-food!”

He stomps to where his horse is tied, steps into the stirrup and spurs his way out of town.

The Channings meet Ava and Ellie and Bach in the road.

“We'd better come up with a plan of defense,” Bach says, “and we better make it believable. Or they will turn on us.”

“What about some Slayer Traps around the perimeter?” Darby asks. “Many can be fashioned without any nails – and a pit full of shaved timber spikes kills just as well as a pit of iron spikes.”

“Yes, and we should mend the palisades,” says a carpenter.

“Do we have any bullets?” Bach asks. He's suddenly engaged and Ava can't help but grin a little.

But there are no bullets, according to the villagers.

“We would be wise to attack from range,” Bach says, “what about bows and arrows?”

“We have enough for the hunting party,” a wiry man steps forward to explain, “but no metal cams.”

“You're a bowyer?”

“I am. But I lack materials to produce any bows for defense.”

“What do we need?” Ava asks, the gears in her mind turning.

“I know what it will take,” says Bach, “and everything can likely be found in the woods.”

The fiend-infested woods.

“We'd better get moving,” Ava says.

Time Remaining: 46 hours 53 minutes