Game Start - Level 1
The angel’s blue eyes burn like an icy fire. They lock onto my own crimson ones. “Please, show some mercy.”
I laugh. I laugh so hard I almost drop my sword.
“Mercy? Where do you think you are?” I snarl. “There’s no mercy in Hell.”
My sword whistles as it cuts through the air. It passes through the angel’s neck just as easily. Before either his body or head hit the ground, they shatter into specks of light that hang in the air, twinkling for a moment, before dissipating like smoke.
“Did you get anything good?” my partner in this little excursion asks.
He stands on two muscular legs--comically small in comparison to his torso that is double human proportions. Coarse, stone-like flesh, creaks and groans with every movement.
His giant jaw grinds into what I figure passes as a smile. We’ve teamed up on some large group quests, but this was our first time with just the two of us. I admit, he’s good, but his character name makes it almost impossible to take him seriously--FuknDemon1.
I snap my fingers, bringing up my display and swipe through the menu options until I come to the tab Latest Spoils. Nothing.
“Nah. He was only a level five cherubim. I bet they just allowed him out of Heaven and he though he’d be all badass and stir some shit in Hell.” I look at my feet where he’d been just a moment ago. An hour tracking some know-nothing noob. “What a waste of time.”
“Still,” FuknDemon1 says with a punch to my arm, “that was awesome. There’s no mercy in Hell! Dude, you were all like Spaaartaaa! and crap.”
I shrug it off. No sense being a douche about it. Still, I bet it did look kind of cool. Only problem with this game being first person, you don't get to see you're character’s awesome moves.
"Do you have time to do another mission?" FuknDemon1 asks. "I've got a fourth tier Influence.”
"What's the map reference?"
“17-14-630084-4833438”
As he recites the numbers, I type them into my mapping system.
I shake my head. “Sorry, I can't."
"Too late?"
I check my clock--it's just after midnight. Which, yeah, is late for a school night. Not that anyone will care.
"No, I still have time, but it's in my no-go zone."
There are missions in Hell, but the biggest points are for manipulating mortals. Only thing is, on Earth, every player has a restricted zone where they’re not able to go. Chatter on the boards figures those areas correspond to where we live.
Revelations uses geo data from multiple sources to create realistic representations of the world’s neighborhoods. It might be creepy to mess with people in our own, so I suppose the restriction makes sense. Though seeing how realistically the game renders my own neighborhood might be kind of cool.
The cracked slant that passes for a smile crosses FuknDemon1’s face.
"I've got a patch that'll fix that,” he says.
We’re standing in the middle of the Eternal Plane, a field with calf-high grass that spans hundreds of miles. There’s been no sign of another player the entire time we chased the newbie angel. The mention of a forbidden mod still makes me drop my voice to a whisper.
"You mean the geo-hack? I thought that was just a rumor."
He shakes his head.
"No. I got it from my cousin. I did a minor manipulation on the fringe of my no-go zone the other night. It worked fine. Give me your email and I'll send you the file."
"You better not be sending me a virus."
He holds up his clawed hand.
"Scout's honor."
"Yeah, cause you're such a Boy Scout."
His mangled face, with elongated snout and red slits for eyes, manages to look hurt.
"Am too."
I do my best not to crack up--there's no mistaking the expressions of my avatar's humanoid face. Maybe I should've made him look more monstrous, like FuknDemon1's.
"Ok, fine, you're a real Boy Scout." Am I smirking? I concentrate on keeping my expression nonchalant. "Go ahead and send me the file. My email is shamshiel@revelations-mmorpg.com."
"Cool. Give me a second."
His avatar goes slack, all light extinguishing from its eyes. A field of energy surrounds him, preventing any damage--a character during pause.
Revelations works in real time. While you can pause your character and receive no injury, the rest of the world still continues on without you. It's a pain in the ass if you're in the middle of a long campaign and need to piss real bad, but it adds to the realism.
The field fizzles out and his eyes glow again.
“Ok, I sent it. It’s just a small exec file. Drop it in the top level of the game folder and execute it. You’ll need to reboot after it installs. I’ll wait here.”
“Ok. I’ll be back in a few.”
A snap brings up my menu and I swipe it over to the Logoff option. From FuknDemon1’s perspective, the grey skinned, humanoid demon in black armor blinks out of existence.
My eyes remain closed during the logoff procedure. To be honest, it makes me feel sick--too much motion--all tunnels and flashing lights. The sound of the restraints clicking open signals I’m out.
Every time I lift the neurolinx helmet from my head, I’m surprised how light it is--this thing must contain serious tech to interface with the mind. But thank god, cause with all the hours I play, any heavier and it would kill my neck.
I hop out of the game chair and crash into the rattling office chair in front of my computer. Spots where the duct tape has peeled up poke me in uncomfortable places. Why the hell do I still need to use a mouse or a keyboard when technology exists where I can play a game with my mind? Stupid.
The active window is black except for white blocky letters that spell out Revelations. I click to quit the program.
Are you sure you want to Quit? Y/N
I click ‘Y’ and open my email program. It's a pretty sweet deal--for thirty bucks a month I get an email account, rental of the gaming equipment, and unlimited access to the game servers. In the past, I think people paid the same just to log on every month and play using their mouse and keyboard.
FuknDemon1's email has no subject and no text, just an attachment. The file downloads to my drive and gets hit with every piece of antivirus software I own. I even run it through a few free trials, just to be sure. The file shows clean in every single one.
Huh, maybe he really is a Boy Scout.
The installation is as simple as he said. As the hourglass spins, my fingers tap some random rhythm. Several songs worth of drum solos pass before a small popup box alerts me that the operation has succeeded.
I reboot Revelations.
My monitor goes black. A thrumming bass, unsettling in its urgency, comes through the speakers. Above this dark foundation, horns, bright and cheerful, play a triumphant march. White lettering floats toward the screen, the letters twisting and turning. I swear they form specific shapes--most of the people on the boards disagree. What the hell do they know? I bet none of them even take the time to watch, much less appreciate, the opening. Besides, I’m not alone--a number of websites agree with me.
When the title Revelations displays prominently on the screen, it’s time. It loaded without any noticeable glitches or changes. For all I know this won’t work. Hopefully FuknDemon1 hasn’t taken off--it took longer to load than I figured.
The game chair is a mixture of moulded plastic and memory foam. The manuals say you can play lying down on a bed, but there’s also a warning your body may respond to the mental stimulus which could result in injury. The game chair has restraints to keep that from happening, and supposedly uses other bio-feedback to heighten the sense you are physically in the game. What the hell, the chair only cost an extra five bucks a month.
I’ve sat in this chair every day since Revelations released eight months ago. After all those hours, the foam conforms to my body like it was custom made. I pull on the neurolinx helmet, covering my entire head.
“Load.”
The restraints lock into place over my wrists, ankles, and midsection. I close my eyes--the initial dive is just as puke inducing as logging out.
“Descend.”
Bright strobing lights flash against my closed eyelids. When the light becomes consistent and my ears are bombarded by the noise of thousands of voices, I open my eyes.
Welcome to Hell.
The gate stands behind me. To my knowledge, no one has actually seen it open, even though we all supposedly enter through the gate. It soars into the sky, ten floors tall, all black, wrought iron, twisting together in a dense vine work obscuring the other side. Held captive within those vines are images of the tormented dead, clawing their way upward, seeking a Heaven that will never accept them. Yeah, it’s super cheerful.
The Queue is a sort of shanty town that’s formed around the entrance with dusty, foot trodden streets. Most are tents belonging to vendors who will sell anything for the price of experience points or levels. Some are Non-Player Characters, but most are other players who have set up shop to try and gain some quick levels without having to do the hard work of missions. Generally the players’ prices are way too expensive.
We all enter the Queue, the new, the returning, and the respawned. Agitation, awe, frustration, and anger all mix to create a dense and oppressive atmosphere.
“Hey kid,” I overhear a familiar voice say. “You look new here. Me and my associates like to, uh, help the newer players out by offering them a position within our prestigious clan.”
The player being spoken to has all the hallmarks of a noob. His avatar is a straight-out-of-the-box default, his eyes are wide, and he never stops scanning left right, forward, and back. He might even have the noob-stimulation-overload shakes.
I stroll over and clamp my hand on the shoulder belonging to the voice’s owner.
“Don’t listen to him,” I say. “This is Rot. He’ll get you to sign up for his glorious clan and then use you as cannon fodder while he and his buddies ninja all the loot and XP.”
“You sunnova...” He twists to look at me. “Oh, ha ha, Shamshiel. Nice to see you.”
I sigh. Rot, his full username is CoffinRot, is what more experienced players would call a vulture.
“It’s hard to get out of a clan once you sign up,” I say to the new player. “Be really careful. Do some research before you join one.”
He nods. “Yeah, ok. Thanks.”
“Rot?” I let go of his shoulder with a little shove to encourage him to move on. “Leave the noobs alone until they’re at least level five, geez.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He growls at me, walking away, calling me things I don’t even recognize.
“Rot’s an asshole, and there’s lots like him. Watch your back.” I wave to the noob as I walk away.
He catches up with me before I can bring up my menu and get away from this place.
“Hey, uh, are you in a clan?” he asks.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “If you’re just starting out, it’s not a bad idea to join one now. I started playing early on and have a bunch of allies. Besides, my level’s pretty good, so I don’t worry about it.”
“Is that why that guy didn’t fight you? What level are you?”
I shrug. “Rot’s a coward. He knows I can kill him, so he won’t risk losing any XP by pissing me off.” I purposely avoid the question about my level. Unlike some MMORPGs, Revelations keeps your levels secret. “But if his buddies were here, things would’ve gotten ugly. If you want a clan, start by checking out the Ninth Circle Denizens. I’ve done some missions with them and they’re ok.”
“Thanks.”
He wanders away, eyes still wide at how real everything looks. Ha. Wait until he sees the lowers circles.
I bring up my menu. Since I logged out intentionally, I have the option to fast travel to where I’d been last. I click and feel the tingling sensation rush over my skin. I blink, and find myself standing in front of FuknDemon1.
“Sheeit, I thought you’d wussed out on me,” he says.
“Sorry. My computer’s a little slow. It took a while to install.”
“You ready?”
I nod.
“Cool. I’ll send you the team-up request.”
A second later, a pop up window flashes in front of me.
FuknDemon1 wishes to enlist your aid in a quest. Accept Y/N
I stab the air where the Y is displayed.
The mission details display. It’s a pretty simple influence mission--prod some kid into stealing some money from his mother’s purse. Not exactly fire and brimstone, damn his soul to Hell, kind of stuff. The experience points should be enough to push me to the next level. Thank god. I’ve been grinding out missions for a month trying to level up.
“So far, so good. No glitches in accepting the mission,” I say.
FuknDemon1 smiles. “OK! Let’s get going!”
We teleport to the portal.
There’s only one way into Hell, and that’s the gates. The only way out is through a single portal guarded by NPCs who, the boards say, are invincible. To get past the guards you have to be at least level five in all the major spell categories.
Sometimes noobs show up trying to race right for the Earth missions. LOL. I’ve spent hours sitting and watching them get their asses handed to them.
The guards don't give FuknDemon1 or I a second glance--I passed the minimum levels within the first ten hours of the game's release.
As we approach the portal, a popup appears before us.
Enter Destination.
Since we're currently linked as a team, only one of us has to enter the geo code.
"You do it,” FuknDemon1 says. "Just to make sure it's cool."
I punch in the code for our destination and cringe, waiting for some sirens, or for the guards to turn and pummel me.
Instead, the portal changes from a formless black mass to the image of a street. A street that, with a sinking in my stomach, I realize I know really too well.
We both step through the portal.
Standing on a street I’ve walked along hundreds of times--including just this past afternoon--I realize my initial instincts were right--it’s creepy.
Revelations always seemed realistic. The textures and lighting of the various locations I've visited were impressive. But this, being able to compare the game to reality, brings in a whole new perspective. There's the pothole I hit with my bike last summer--skinned my damn knee. The slabs of the sidewalk retain their skewed placements, rising and falling with no relation to the rest of the landscape. There's the footprints in that one slab where Danny Brascow shoved me into the wet cement so my new shoes would get ruined. From that slab of sidewalk, I look to the house I've crossed the street to avoid for the past nine years. It looks more ominous in the shadows cast by the streetlights.
What makes a kid a bully? And how do they pick their favourite targets? I mean, I'm not the smallest guy in school. I like video games, obviously, but who doesn't? All I know is that the further the distance between me and Danny Brascow, the better.
"You know that house?" FuknDemon1 asks, following my gaze. "It's where we're going for our mission."
"What?"
"Check it out." He nods toward the house.
The level of detail had me so absorbed, I missed the mark on the front door.
The Demon’s Claw--a red smear made by a bloody, inhuman, hand. The game uses it to mark target locations for missions. As I understand it, the angels have something similar, just prettier.
My chest clenches, making my breathing go all haywire. Danny’s house. God, of all the houses on this street, why his?
“You ok?” FuknDemon1 asks.
It’s not really his house. This is just a game. Just a game. Just a game...
I’m not even Tyler Drake, social fringe dweller, weakling, and game freak. No, here I’m the demon Shamshiel. And if this mission delivers the promised experience points, I won’t just be a demon anymore--I’ll be a Fallen Angel. As far as Hell goes, there’s no higher rank.
I shake my arms, trying to loose the bullshit feelings. It’s a game. We do our thing, get our points, no one gets hurt, and I level up.
“No. I’m good.” It takes effort to keep my voice from shaking. “Just a little weirded out at how real it looks.”
“I know, right?” he says with a wink. “C’mon.”
In Earth realm NPCs can’t see or hear us and we can pass through solid objects like ghosts.
FuknDemon1 phases through the front door. I draw a deep breath and follow.
I’ve never been in Danny’s house, so I have no way of knowing if it’s an accurate reproduction--it seems plain and generic. I suppose that’s to be expected. Google maps and other satellites would deliver the data for an accurate exterior. I guess interiors are where they save memory and processing power. But then, I never thought any of the other places I’ve been inside were plain. Maybe the interiors differ with each geo code location.
We pass through the house without care. In our current forms, we’re incorporeal to any objects here. The game compensates, though, so we don’t sink down through the floor.
After climbing the stairs, we check out the bedrooms. The first one we look in has a girl my age sleeping in it. Danny does have a sister, but this girl looks nothing like her. My chest relaxes a bit.
“What’s your Influence level?” FuknDemon1 asks.
“Forty-two,” I lie. It’s actually maxed at level one hundred. I like keeping some of my cards hidden.
His eyes widen. “Whoa. I’m only at twenty-one. Ok, how about you influence the target, and I’ll use Manipulate to keep the parents asleep.”
“Sounds good.”
He heads for the master bedroom while I make my way to the only other remaining room. Fingers of light claw their way out from beneath the closed door. Hopefully that means the target is awake. Using Influence on a NPC while they’re sleeping usually results in them shaking it off like a bad dream.
I phase through the door. Despite the girl looking nothing like Danny’s sister, my breath still catches in my throat, as I expect to come face to face with my daily tormentor. Instead, the target sitting on the bed reading a car magazine blessedly looks nothing like Danny. His hair is longer, lighter, and shaggier, and his face is blessedly smooth--in contrast to Danny’s cratered appearance. Seeing the vast differences in appearance makes it easier for my lungs to work again.
It is just a game after all.
Here’s the thing about spells in Revelations, it isn’t as simple as pressing a button. Because the game is controlled by thought, and this mission depends on placing a thought into a person’s head, spells are all cerebral. Instead of yelling “Cast Influence,” I’m going to whisper a thought into this NPC’s ear. The higher my level, the easier my suggestion will take hold. But the real art of Influence is to place a thought that isn’t entirely out of left field. I mean, I’m going to tell him to steal money from his mom’s purse--that’s probably out of left field. The art is to give him a reason to do it--a reason he might actually have. I once influenced someone to steal because I found a letter from his girlfriend saying she was pregnant. Another, I got to cheat on a test because I found she was afraid of her father--wouldn’t want to fail and risk daddy’s anger, would we?
Yeah, Revelations is kinda fucked up. But with so many changing mission types, and the ability to feel like you’re living as this powerful creature--it’s just too much to leave behind.
So what would motivate you to steal from mommy, hmm?
I take a moment to inspect the bedroom.
An overflowing pile of dirty clothes on the closet floor prevents the door from closing. There’s no telling the wall colour as every space has been covered with posters of girls, metal bands, and cars. The few gaps have been filled with pages torn out of magazines. An older PC--not even plugged in--sits on a desk that is more magazine storage than workspace.
If I really had to search every corner of the room, this mission could take hours. When your levels are low, that’s what you have to do. Thankfully I am not low leveled.
I stand in the center of the room, close my eyes, and extend my hands outward. I turn in a slow circle. My right hand begins to itch. Another step in the circle and the sensation of an invisible string pulls my right hand forward. The pulling sensation draws me to a small metal box with “Car Money” written on it. Placing my hand on the box makes its contents visible to me without having to open it. Wow, so close. Only a hundred dollars more to your goal.
Really? I give my head a scratch. If he has almost enough for a car, he has to have a job, meaning he could easily make that hundred bucks. Man, the Divining Spell has never failed me so miserably.
That’s when I catch sight of the trashcan and the crumpled paper inside. Someone sure was pissed at that poor piece of paper. I reach out for it. Ah, I see. Fired from that part time job. And just when you were so close. I take it back, my Divining Spell is the best thing I ever learned in this game.
I move to the target, leaning close to his ear.
"It isn't fair,” I say. "To be so close and then get screwed. Just one or two more shifts and that car was yours. And after you've busted your ass and saved every penny you could, do your parents understand? Do they even bother to help? You'd think after all that work the least they could do is give you a hundred bucks to make up the difference."
I stand back, let my words sink in. His mouth twists into a scowl and embers of anger spark into flames in his eyes.
"They owe you that money,” I begin again. "For all you do. You're a good kid--they could've done way worse. You watch out for your little sister, you've put in all that time at some shit job where they never appreciated you. And now you get fired--which is not your fault--and they decide to add to your punishment and deny you just a little bit of change? How dare they? How could they hurt you like that?"
I have him. I wait for the anger to fester a little longer before planting the final idea.
"Your mom always has cash in her wallet,” I whisper in a nonchalant way. “If you just took a little, she wouldn't notice. It's not stealing, you're just taking what you deserve."
A little more time. Between my maxed Influence level, and the anger I see in his eyes, I’m pretty confident I have this. Still, I don't want to push too hard--he needs to believe these thoughts are his own, otherwise he'll fight them off.
Maybe five minutes pass. I'm about to lean in for another prod when he tosses the magazine aside and stands up from the bed.
He creeps to his door, flicks off the lights, twists the knob, and eases the door open. I stay a few feet behind as he makes his way downstairs. I hope FuknDemon1 has a high enough Manipulation level to keep the parents asleep. I doubt we'll get any experience points if our target gets busted.
We're in the hall. He's reaching for his mother's purse.
My muscles tense and a chill tickles its way down my spine. In the real world, you might call it ‘someone walking over your grave.’ In Revelations, it means something else...
I draw my sword and charge toward the door. Sparks dance into the air as my amber blade clashes with the blazing white steel of an angel's sword.
She's beautiful. I mean, all angels are, it's part of the appeal. But even for an angel, her appearance is so startling I nearly falter. Her hair shines like strands of diamonds, and she has eyes that are blue like the purest lake on a calm day. Even her features are soft and gently rounded. Of course, all the attention to making her beautiful probably means she's the avatar of some forty-year-old dude who lives in his mother's basement.
She's high leveled--I know because she had her weapon drawn already. The higher your level, the more aware you are of the presence of the opposite side.
But she shouldn't be here. We both know it, but neither one of us is going to back away from the fight and risk taking a dirt nap. Losing all the experience points I've accrued since my last level-up is not going to happen.
Angel and demon missions never overlap. We only ever meet when one of us decides to wander into the other's territory--like the noob I dispatched earlier tonight. So why is she here?
I keep my eyes locked on her's, trying to anticipate her next move. It's why I see the change in her eyes. She's not looking directly at me anymore, something behind us has her distracted. Her eyes widen in panic.
"No, don’t," she cries out.
Before I can chance a turn of my head to see what the commotion is, thunder tears through the hall, accompanied by the smell of smoke, oil, and tangy iron. Something heavy falls to the ground.
The angel pushes away from me and phases out through the door. I sense her presence fading as the distance between us grows. Convinced I'm safe from further attack, I turn around.
My stomach lurches.
Our target is crumpled on the ground, a pool of blood expanding away from his body. A man, I guess his father, stands at the bottom of the stairs, his gun still raised. FuknDemon1 stands behind the father, a smug grin on his face.
"What the fuck did you do?" I scream.
"Bonus points,” he answers like I’m an idiot for not figuring it out right away.
The effects of Manipulation wear off the NPC. Horror quickly spreads across his face. He drops the gun as a strangled cry rips from his lips. Thankfully, the gun doesn't go off when it hits the ground. There’s sounds of movement upstairs, the rest of the family waken by the shot and now coming to see what the commotion is.
I launch myself through the door. My feet don’t touch ground until I’m across the street. I’m bent over, huffing each breath, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes, and the burn of acid in my throat.
A few minutes later, FuknDemon1 joins me outside.
"That was pretty wild,” he says. "You ok? Man, you look like you're gonna puke.”
"I just...” I push myself up straight and draw a deep, solid breath. “What the hell? When were you going to tell me that was part of the mission?"
He laughs. Dammit, we just manipulated a father into murdering his own son, and he laughs.
Just a game. Just a game. I'm being stupid. It's just a game. But it looked so real. The body, the pain in his father’s face...Just a game. Pre-programmed actions to add realism and a sense of consequence.
"I thought I'd keep it a surprise,” he says. “C’mon, you've played the game a while, you had to know there was no way we'd get those kind of experience points from a simple fourth tier Influence mission."
He's right. There's no possible way we'd get these kind of experience points. Even now, a message flashes on my screen alerting me I have leveled-up and have new skills available. Still, what we just did...
I said before that Revelations is kind of fucked up. But I've never played to the full extent of crazy-wrong it can get. I've killed angels, sure. But they're the enemy, they're armed, and they can see me coming. Human NPCs aren't like that. Yeah, it's meant taking longer to level up, but at least I didn't feel...Oh God, it seemed so real.
"No, yeah, you're right.” I do my best to sound like it’s no big deal. “I guess I'm just tired and that angel surprised the crap out of me."
"What was that all about? I thought they couldn't mess with our missions."
I shrug.
"Don't know, don't really care. I've gotta go. See you later."
I don't wait for him to say anything more, I bring up my menu and log out. I've waited a month and a half to hit the level of Fallen Angel, and I don't even bother to check my new stats or options.
The restraints lift. I pull off the helmet and I stumble to my bed. The alarm will go off way sooner than I want. I fall asleep, the discomfort of what I've seen in the game ringing in my head like distant sirens.
To Be Continued...