[ZERO SPACE]

An army of rats descended on Shae, swarming out from hundreds of tiny holes. Bullets ricocheted across wooden barrels, piercing through cobwebs, and shattering dirty windows. Rays of dusty light illuminated a dark tavern basement, glimmering across puddles of blood and booze.

This wasn’t Shae’s first time dealing with these rats. When he wasn’t raiding castles, Shae was on pest patrol. These jobs weren’t challenging - they just required time and patience. Rats weren’t as exciting to fight as dragons, but weak opponents were a nice change of pace from Zero Space’s greater horrors.

Shae entered a zen-like state, delivering three or more bullets to any hint of movement. Each dead rat rewarded Shae with a satisfying ding, and a small quantity of Rep Points.

Rep Points were a social currency. Zero Space players earned them by doing anything. Killing monsters gave lots of rep, but it could also be gained by sitting around. This made it impossible for Zero Space players to waste their time - some uses of time were just more profitable than others.

Even low-tier players like Shae could contribute to their guild this way – the guild gained a portion of every member’s earned-rep. This must be why they tolerated Shae. He wasn’t a great player, but he was always online. “Reliably bad,” they would say.

Rats in Zero Space couldn’t be taken lightly. These rodents were fast aggressive creatures, with curved horns and jagged teeth. If Shae’s focus wavered for even a moment --

[THE HAVEN]

-- Anton ripped off Jay’s Zero Space headset.

“Jay, seriously!” yelled Anton. “Take off that stupid helmet, and help me patch you up!”

“I’m in the middle of something,” Jay pleaded.

“You can’t just show up looking like you did, then jump right back into the game!” yelled Anton, wrapping a bandage around Jay’s shin. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Jay insisted.

“You’ll tell me now!”

Jay stole his Zero Space helmet back --

[ZERO SPACE]

-- Pain shot through Shae’s legs. Hungry rats exposed the bones in his ankles. Shae was lucky to still be standing.

Health in Zero Space was a loose metric. In a traditional video game, player health was represented by a number. In Zero Space however, things were more realistic - player-facing math wasn’t involved. One good hit to the wrong spot could decide any battle. Monsters however, didn’t always play by the same rules.

Shae tip-toed around angry rats, retaliating with a volley of gunfire. Pain in the real world was worse than it was in Zero Space, but walking on two broken ankles was still intolerable.

Over thirty rats had fallen to Shae’s bullets. He didn’t remember there being so many rats last time. The rodents were more aggressive than ever before. A change to Zero Space must have occurred. Shae would need to check the Zero Space forums after, to see --

[THE HAVEN]

-- Anton swiped Jay’s Zero Space helmet again.

“Stop it,” yelled Jay. “You can’t keep doing that!”

“I’m bigger than you,” Anton replied. “I can do what I want.”

“You’re going to get me killed!”

“You clearly don’t need my help for that,” Anton said, dabbing Jay’s leg with a cotton gauze.

Furious, Jay swiped his helmet once more –

[ZERO SPACE]

-- Shae’s entire body was in rough shape. Numerous bites across his chest. A missing ear. And something terrible had happened to his left thigh – he didn’t even want to look at it.

Gore settings in Zero Space were adjustable. Shae’s were set to Standard, and even that was too much for him sometimes. Setting gore to None resulted in flowers and candy exploding from open wounds. And Excessive gore was overkill. Watching someone explode was fun the first few times, but it grew tiresome. Why bother wearing flashy clothes if they were just going to be stained red all the time?

Shae prioritized the rats that were currently eating him. At least while the rats were feeding, they were easier to hit. Still, he couldn’t take much more of this. Only a few more bites would --

[THE HAVEN]

-- The green light drained from Jay’s computer. Pushing Anton to his limits meant Anton pushing the power button.

“Nooooo,” cried Jay.

A sickening snap made Jay cry even louder.

“Your toe was dislocated,” explained Anton. “Now it’s not. I’m not sure how you even made it back here.”

Jay fell limp in his chair, his mind recalibrating to his real-life injuries. His nerves came back online, reminding his body that it was in agony. Haven-dwellers fled to Zero Space to escape the pain of real-life, and that included physical pain as well.

“Jay, I’m begging you,” said Anton. “Tell me what happened.”

Jay groaned. Until Zero Space rebooted, there wasn’t much else to do.

He recounted his journey to floor fourteen, taking care to omit certain incriminating details. Jay relayed the tale of a tragic hero: a hero that had negotiated with the wicked Marcen, then ran away from corrupt enforcers, before finally having his medicine stolen by a dozen deserter crooks. It was a tough sell, and Anton wasn’t buying it.

“So after all that, instead of heading to an infirmary floor, you decided to come here and play video games?” asked Anton.

”I figured you could patch me up,” said Jay.

“I have minor medical training!” Anton yelled. “I’m not a doctor!”

Anton’s dream had once been to become an enforcer; he had acquired first aid and fighting skills in pursuit of it. Halfway through Anton’s enforcer training however, Jay had fallen ill. The enforcer life would require Anton to be away from Jay for long stretches of time – it just wasn’t possible. Maybe someday, Anton would protect everyone in the Haven. For now though, he was content protecting just one.

“It doesn’t hurt as much as it looks,” Jay lied.

“One of your ribs is broken,” Anton said. “Broken ribs hurt.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“Jay, all I do is worry about you! You say things like that, and then you come back looking like this!”

Jay had no response. He knew he was in the wrong.

“You’re the only family I got,” said Anton. “I would blame myself if anything happened to you.”

Anton pulled Jay into a gentle hug. Something small and metal in Jay’s hoodie pocket brushed against his fingers.

“What’s this?” asked Anton.

Jay froze. The mysterious zero disc - he had forgotten all about it! His journey back had taken several hours. A trek like that made it easy to forget important things.

Anton withdrew the zero disc, twirling it across his fingertips.

“A zero disc?” Anton asked.

“I can explain,” Jay said.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Anton said. “Deserters? Chased by enforcers? You return with no medicine, but you have this? Is this where my credits really went?

“No, you don’t understand.”

“What’s on this one? Some sunglasses. New shoes?”

“Anton, wait…

“I hate it when you lie to me Jay. This shit makes it hard to trust you.”

Anton slipped the zero disk into his own pocket.

“Get your ass to an infirmary floor,” Anton demanded. “Until then, this is mine,”

Anton slammed the door to Jay’s room, leaving Jay on his own. Jay was too tired to throw a fit. The nearest infirmary floor would require a trip to the elevator line, and several nights in an infirmary bed. It could be days before Jay saw what was on that zero disc. His curiosity wouldn’t let that happen.

Getting that zero disc back wasn’t going to be easy though. Especially with Anton at home. Jay had a plan, but it involved waiting a while. So, until then --

[ZERO SPACE]

There wasn’t much left of Shae’s body. More rats joined the Shae buffet, picking away at whatever was left.

Death in Zero Space was disorienting, even for experienced players. In one moment, you were fighting for your life. In the next, you were disconnected from your body, watching yourself from afar. Dead players were like ghosts – able to float around the battlefield freely, but unable to interact with the living. Shae often wondered if this is what death was like in real life. On most days, he didn’t want to find out.

Resurrecting was an option, but without a healer, players had no control over where they respawned. There was no healer here, so Shae’s mission was over. He was tired of this dark dingy basement anyway. It reminded him too much of his real home.

Shae chose to resurrect. Green restorative particles formed around him, gathering up his remains, before whisking them away through the walls of the tavern, and into the bright blue sky beyond. His particles travelled through a lush green forest, soared above a dark stormy castle, and tore through the alleys and crowds of a bustling medieval city. Finally, they settled into a rickety mansion, built into a mountain’s peak.

This building teetered on wooden supports, high above the clouds. There were no doors leading in or out of it, and the windows were sealed shut. Only players that belonged here could enter it, or even see it. This was Shae’s Zero Space home - his Guild HQ.

Shae’s particles reconvened on the bottom floor, warping and expanding until his image was coherent once more. He awoke with a groan, rubbing where his wounds used to be. Respawning meant a full recovery. No more injuries. No more sickness or poison. And most importantly - no more holes in his clothing.

Bander leaned against a wall, polishing a brand new staff. A look of bemusement crossed his face. It was always satisfying to watch Shae suffer, assuming he didn’t have to heal him afterwards.

“Wow, Shae, what a surprise,” said Bander.

“Shut up, you weren’t there,” Shae said.

“If I was, you wouldn’t have died, idiot,” replied Bander.

“You have no idea. I was fighting two dragons at the same time. I would have won too, if a ninja didn’t get me from behind.”

“Uh huh. Let’s see about that...”

“No wait…”

Bander’s eyes glazed over. Though his body remained standing, there was no one home. Bander had gone AFK – he had left the game.

It was easy to tell when a Zero Space player had gone AFK. Basic artificial intelligence kicked in, keeping the absent player upright. The AI wouldn’t do anything to defend them however - AFK players were easy to exploit. Bander’s mandial body for example, was light enough to lift, and just the right size for a trash can.

Before Shae could make a move, sentience returned to Bander’s eyes. The mandial grinned.

“You died fighting rats?” Bander asked.

Most players wouldn’t have access to that sort of information. Bander however, wasn’t a normal player – he was a hacker.

Hackers had a bad reputation, and for good reason. Developers of Zero Space didn’t want players rewriting the game’s code to gain an unfair advantage. Zero Space could be unfair enough on its own. Bander had to keep his abilities low-key. Little changes to the game could result in big consequences. Cheaters faced Zero Space bans. Extreme cheaters could expect a knock on their Haven door…

Bander’s extra-curricular activities were unknown to all but his inner circle. This wasn’t supposed to include Shae; Shae just had a bad habit of eavesdropping at the right time. Fortunately, Shae wasn’t the snitching type.

“There were millions of rats,” Shae explained. “You have no idea.”

“In Shae-speak, is that like, five?” asked Bander.

“I swear, there were way more than last time.” Shae said. “Someone up there’s been balancing things. Everything’s way over-tuned now.”

“Shae,” interrupted Dalli, a high ranking Guild officer. “Chief wants an audience.”

Bander forced a laugh at Shae’s expense. Summons from Chief meant something really good or really bad. Shae had a hunch it was the latter.

“Did someone report me?” asked Shae.

“Not that I am aware of,” said Dalli. The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” The word flew out of Shae’s mouth. It could have been any number of things. He didn’t want to speculate.

Dalli groaned and gestured Shae to follow, leading him through crowded hallways, stuffed with idle guild members, and a random smattering of furniture. Guild Rep Points could be used to decorate an HQ’s interior, but leadership here had clearly delegated those resources elsewhere. Likely, on themselves.

Dalli was one of the guild’s eldest members. He’d been here longer than some guild members had been alive. This gave him an excuse to act high and mighty. He settled most arguments by citing his seniority.

He was a leggoid – a form of humanoid with slender bodies, long legs, and lizard heads. Their legs could extend like a pair of stilts. Dalli utilized this feature often. Being the tallest guy in the room made him hard to ignore.

“You know what this is about?” asked Shae.

“I don’t,” said Dalli. “It’s not my business.”

“You’d think an officer would know these things. Chief probably hates you.”

Dalli’s spear smacked Shae in the side.

“Watch it human,” Dalli snarled. “I don’t know why Chief keeps you around.”

“Probably because I’m pretty,” Shae said. “And technically, you’re human too.”

“Not in Zero Space,” said Dalli. “People don’t like to be reminded they’re in a game. While on guild property, try and stay in character.”

“I am in character,” insisted Shae. “My character likes breaking the fourth wall.”

Dalli rolled his eyes. The sooner he delivered Shae to Chief, the sooner he’d be rid of him. How did Dalli end up in a guild like this? With his skills, he could be doing much better. Top guilds however, were too competitive. Here at least, Dalli could live a life of comfort without having to work for it.

He wouldn’t want another guild anyway. This guild was his home. And most importantly: Chief was here. Some people feared Chief. But not Dalli - it was the opposite for him. He had been at Chief’s side since the guild first formed. He was her most loyal servant. And someday, maybe something more…

Two double doors swung open, leading into a large room. It was clear where the guild’s furniture funds had gone. Lavish decorations were arranged here without reason or style. The only consistency between them was the price tag.

Dangling cages housed a variety of exotic birds - living trophies from expeditions to the far reaches of Zero Space. These creatures weren’t other players; they were non-player characters - NPCs, for short. Even backed by an AI mind, these creatures seemed miserable. The room echoed with their cries and reeked of their droppings. Their only appeal was visual.

They were a suitable decoration however. The guild’s name was the Feather Birds - that name was one of the worst parts of the guild. Why not “Birds of a Feather?” Or “Birds of Prey?” Shae could think of at least a dozen suitable bird puns off the top of his head.

A large hole in the ceiling cast a sunny spotlight into the room’s center. This wasn’t a real hole – it was a decoration. Holes like this could be found throughout Zero Space, sometimes in ceilings, and sometimes in walls. They were especially problematic when placed in enemy territory – players attempting to retreat through one would smack their head against an invisible wall.

And in the center of it all: the guild chief, “Chief” – that was her actual name. She was flanked by her two strongest guards. These guards were only for show; other players or monsters couldn’t actually attack Guild HQs. Shae wondered how much these guards suffered - imagine, working your way to the top of a guild, and then being forced to stand in one place all day. Especially a loud, stinking room. Maybe Shae was better off being a loser.

Chief was covered with an outfit of colorful feathers and the most extravagant accessories credits could buy. She was an armoroid, a large beetle-like race with a thick defensive exoskeleton. Their sizeable exoskeletons inflated their weight, making them susceptible to size-shaming – a hot button issue among larger races. Most armoroids didn’t take it personally; they knew those smaller players were just jealous.

An armoroid seemed like a weird choice for the leader of a bird-themed guild. Didn’t birds eat bugs? This concern had crossed Dalli’s mind, but he never questioned her; her decisions were flawless.

“Greetings, Shae,” Chief beckoned. It was almost impossible to hear her over the squabbling of birds.

“What?” asked Shae.

“I said, greetings, Shae.”

“What?”

“I said, greetings, Shae!”

Her words finally reached him, but her dramatic entrance was ruined. She sighed, slapping a button on her wooden throne. The surrounding cages become silent, an invisible gas sending their occupants into a sedated slumber.

“You need something?” asked Shae.

“Address Chief with respect!” insisted Dalli.

“You need something, Chief?”

Chief was not amused.

“Yes Shae, a stronger performance,” Chief said. “From you, I mean. We have a limited number of spots in our guild. Fifty, to be precise, and we’re at forty-eight. It’s almost time. To make some cuts, I mean.”

Shae didn’t like the sound of that.

“I’ll admit, our standards can be lax,” Chief continued. “But even so, we have a very low bar, which you somehow, have failed to surpass.”

Shae shrugged. Nothing he didn’t know.

“I’m sending you on one last mission Shae,” Chief continued. “If your team fails, or if you earn the least amount of rep, you’re out. Of the guild, I mean.”

Her conditions weren’t unreasonable, assuming Shae had the right team. Dalli loved that about Chief. She was always so reasonable - so fair. He could only imagine how fair she was in real life. Hopefully in real life, she wasn’t also a giant beetle person.

“Bring them in,” demanded Chief. “The others, I mean.”

Umi stomped into the room, twirling his Warhammer high. Surrounding guards gave him a wide berth.

“We get to work together again buddy!” Umi shouted to Shae. “Praise Ledgess!”

Next, Julvor entered the room. Julvor was a healer, like Bander. Unlike Bander, Julvor was a tentacloid, a humanoid race with tentacles for arms. Their flesh was oily and smooth, like that of an amphibian. Despite their appearance, they were terrible swimmers.

All races in Zero Space shared some commonalities – they were all humanoids with one or two small tweaks. It wasn’t just a lack of originality on the part of their designers, players wanted a body that they could relate to. Too many anatomical alterations could result in limb dysphoria, which created all sorts of complications when players returned to the real world.

Shae winced. Umi was the guild’s most reckless warrior, and Julvor was the guild’s worst healer. He hoped for better luck with their fourth.

The final companion entered the room - a demonoid. This was someone Shae had never seen before – also, a race, he had rarely seen. Demonoids were one of the first races ever created for Zero Space.

Demonoids didn’t have all the bells and whistles of their newer counterparts. They were impish creatures with long horns sprouting from their heads and heels. These protrusions were incompatible with most modern armor sets. Their flesh was dull and washed out – it didn’t support current lightning tech. Their eyes were incapable of reflection. They didn’t even cast a shadow. Stealth-oriented players could find utility in their shortcomings, but they were a legacy race in desperate need of deprecation.

“This is…” Chief trailed off. “Erm, DangerFace869, I believe. He’s new to the guild. To the game, as well? This will be his first mission.”

Julvor seemed puzzled. “Can we just call you Dane, for short? Or maybe just Face?”

“No,” DangerFace869 said. “It’s Danger Face Eight Six Nine. Say the whole thing.”

“I love your name!” Umi shouted.

“That’s clearly a randomized name,” Julvor said. “Why would you commit to a randomized name? Don’t you know how expensive it is to change your name?”

“I like my name,”DangerFace869 replied.

“Umi will be leading this mission,” said Chief.

“I love being the leader!” Umi shouted.

This was looking grim. Most missions Umi led resulted in failure. Umi was capable of making good decisions, but he found bad decisions way more fun. He always chose violence, even if violence wasn’t an option. Shae prayed their mission wouldn’t require diplomacy.

“Your mission will be in Sunlight Forest,” said Chief. “It’s called: Protect the Village.”

Shae’s heart froze. He knew that mission all too well. It was a death sentence for uncoordinated groups. They were doomed.

“I love that mission!” Umi shouted.

Shae couldn’t let it end like this. It had taken him years to find a guild that would let him in. His reputation was well-known; most other guilds wanted nothing to do with him. If he lost here, he could lose his spot on floor twelve.

Anton had no idea how much danger Shae had put him in. The lower floors had plenty of vacancies, and Anton’s job alone wouldn’t be enough to keep them out. Both of their lives depended on Shae’s success. He had to do the impossible:

Shae had to succeed.