Strong Arm Tactics

Prologue - Part One

In games where you can distribute stats points yourself every level there are generally three main schools of thought.

The first is to spread points into all stats equally. This may sound good but what would your mage need with fifty points of strength. Compared to others at higher levels you lose out in terms of base stats and you end up becoming the worst time of jack of all trades.

The second is the polar opposite of the first; you put all points into one stat. By level 100 you have a God level of strength that allows you to one shot Boss monsters but the rest of your stats are that of a level one character so you can barely hit your foes or take a hit for that matter.

The third, more widely accepted, school of thought is to cultivate your stats to compliment your class. Physical fighters go with strength, agility and stamina while spell casters tend to lean towards intelligence, wisdom and stamina. Of course the ratios will be different between a rogue, a warrior and an archer or a wizard and a priest.

Some players however dip into others stats.

A paladin will need more intelligence and wisdom then a warrior and a battle-mage may put a few points in agility to increase his evasion or their physical defence.

In the ground breaking world ranked #1 VR-MMORPG: Royal Road; Mandeok( Profit Margin)was definitely the worst type of Jack of All Trades. While Aristole(

Royal Scholar)was the middle road having balanced his stat build in line with his chosen class.

Ogre on the other hand was a Purist.

*********

Jonathon Cyr was an average 28 year old man. He had his share of worries and problems like anyone else.

"Bills to pay and women to lay. Cashing cheques and breaking necks." as his ex-brother-in law, the investment wan....banker, would always say while alternating between pelvic thrusts and spanking the ass of some invisible woman.

Jon tended not to care what other people thought. The weight of the world however had been really getting him down lately.

Divorced; now living back with his parents in the same room he grew up in, while slaving away at a dead end job in an economy, that was frankly in the toilet and all while rapidly approaching thirty.

Thirty was the expiration date (or so he had seen on some day time TV garbage) for men.

Unless of course you were wealthy and then the shelf life seemed to extend right up until the deathbed. Too bad his harpy/succubus hybrid demon of an ex-wife had wrung him of all his life savings.

During her very acrimonious legal slaughter-fest.

The one joy he had now in his life was playing a game. Not just a game but the game.

Experts and critics agreed that this could be the only game you may ever need: Royal Road. a Korean VR-MMORPG that had destroyed everyone's concepts of computer games, virtual reality, societal norms and life itself and it had barely been out for close to two and a half years.

He hadn't expected to find both his parents so deeply engrossed in this game when he was forced to return to the nest.

Their twin capsules had been setup in the basement and as they had blown through his inheritance purchasing them it was decided the least they could do is add a third one to their collection; the gesture spawned a new found appreciation for his long suffering parents.

The strange egg shaped capsule was a gateway that transported you to a place where you could almost do anything. To the point of echoing clichéd taglines like "Makes your dreams a reality."

Jon however had no need to become an Emperor or whatever.

He would use this game like all the other beat'em ups, shoot'em ups and dungeon crawlers he'd played in the past. He would use it to vent his slowly growing frustrations; Cathartic Mob slaying had always worked for him before.

'Got built up stress that you let stew inside; fermenting. Then lose yourself in a button mashing marathon before you go postal on your friends and co-workers'

He would tell himself, strangely it would always be narrated in his mind by a voice that sounded like a greasy Late Night Shopping Channel Salesman.

But it worked as Pixelated End Bosses had been the outlet for all his teen angst.

Never more was it needed than today. Today had been an unprecedented disaster of a Moanday. The college surfer cashier had called in sick.

'Symptoms: a serious hang over and a bad case of the munchies. Diagnosis: The patient is suffering from Frat Party Syndrome. Please ladies and gentlemen tonight we make this appeal on behalf of the thousands of students affected by FPS across college campuses everywhere.' A voice from a Telethon said in a sombre tone when Jon heard the news.

He had no idea why his inner monologues tended to sound like TV personalities but it made for some interesting commentary.

The next crushing blow came when he found out the new (attractive) female cashier had (flirted) persuaded the manager to get the afternoon off, thus leaving the small burger joint down to just a skeleton crew.

But the hits kept on coming.

The walking Health and Safety violation working the fryer somehow managed to give his back third degree oil burns and just after the ambulance left several customers complained of stomach cramps.

Which lead to Carnage (explosive vomiting and diarrhea) as they ran the gauntlet to the broken two stall restroom; the ambulance made a quick U-turn and picked up the five new cases of food poisoning. By now the Manager should of had the good sense to close but the high-school dropout with the golden handshake demanded they work the remainder of the shift under penalty of "immediate dismissal".

A four day intense managerial seminar had taught him far too much in Jon's opinion.

So the geriatric cashier manned the front, the manager ordered food from another branch and Jon was unceremoniously handed a mop and bucket. In a futile attempt to bring the restrooms back up to code.

Somehow they survived.

And as soon as the sign was reversed he was gone, barrelling out the door and down the street to shower at the Y. His mothers self defence classes were on at the same time so he at least managed to scrounge a lift.

She could tell by the less then subtle expression on his face that he had had a less than stellar day and their car ride home passed quickly in silence.

It was only as she was pulling into the driveway of the families suburban semi detached did he finally say something.

"Think I'm going to start playing tonight."

She flashed a warm motherly smile.

He had wanted to wait until his next holiday, the weekend after next, so that he had ample time to get to grips with the game but after today he doubted he could last another day let alone until then.

Back to Main Page