Start the Game (Galactogon: Book #1) (2 page)

After a ten minute wait the door opened and the Masters, as the steward had called them, entered the office. One rapid and discerning glance was enough for me to almost choke. I instantly jumped to my feet and greeted my seniors with the customary deference I had honed as an imperial courtier in
Runlustia
. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed that both the girl and the dozing guy jumped up along with me…So he wasn’t sleeping at all but assessing the situation with eyes closed. This made me like him even more—it was too bad that only one of us would get the job.

“Please take your seats,” said one of the newcomers, taking our reactions for granted. He was the owner of factories, ships, shopping malls, cinemas and whatever else one could own in our world. According to official and unofficial data, he had been the wealthiest man on our planet for going on ten years already, yearly increasing his net worth exponentially. It was he who owned
Galactogon
and it was he who was responsible for my current unemployment.

“Gentlemen and gentlewoman, please excuse the delay,” said the second Master, the President of our long-suffering nation. “We needed to receive full confirmation that you met all our requirements. Now, we can safely say that all of you fit our needs.”

All of us? Were they really going to give the job to all three of us instead of just one?

“And what is it about us that fits your needs?” the girl instantly jumped in, utterly unfazed by the newcomers’ social status. Okay, I’ll say something nice about her—this Iron Lady had a very pleasant voice.

“For the sake of the experiment, we need three volunteers who are utterly unfamiliar with the subtleties of
Galactogon
,” explained the first Master. “After receiving your polygraph release forms, we ran a quick check and confirmed that you were telling the truth. My analysts investigated what you have studied over the past two years—please, no need to fret, Constantine—and confirmed your lack of experience with the game. In this manner, we’ve determined that you three, by virtue of your ignorance and your professionalism, are just who we need. All three of you are professional gamers who have until recently supported yourself through your craft: Alexis in
Runlustia
, Constantine and Eunice in
Draanmir
. By the way, why did you never consider my game?” the first Master suddenly asked. “I’m almost a bit insulted.”

“Personally, I saw no point in it,” the girl piped up first again. I made a point to remember her name, Eunice…some kind of ancient name. “If you want to be the best, you can’t get distracted by other trifles. Besides, I had my hands full with
Draanmir
’s constantly evolving world.”

“I agree,” Constantine finally spoke up. There’s truth in the observation that a long time spent playing as one particular class leaves its mark on the player—leaning back in his chair, Constantine had practically dissolved in it, as though he was unconsciously trying to seem less conspicuous. Then, it struck me: In
Draanmir
, he must’ve been a Thief, a Rogue, an Assassin, a Ninja…The title may vary game to game, but the idea remains the same—stealth multiplied by surprise. Interesting…and who was Eunice then? “I had no time to study anything that didn’t seem useful to me.”

I simply shrugged my shoulders, demonstrating that they wouldn’t hear anything novel from me and I didn’t much feel like repeating things.

“In that case, let me explain the gist of our proposal,” the President began. “Perhaps you are familiar with the immortal short story by Mark Twain called ‘The £1,000,000 Bank Note?’”

Having received three nods to the affirmative, the head of our nation went on:

“Excellent. That makes my explanation much easier. My friend and I,” the President nodded at the mogul beside him, “recently encountered a disagreement between us. Namely, I believe that it is impossible to achieve anything in his game without investing real money. He, on the other hand, claims the opposite—despite the fact that the media has already christened his project ‘a cash vacuum,’ which pumps the players for their last few coppers.”

“You want us to establish ourselves in the game without any investment?” the girl popped up again.

“Patience, my dear,” the mogul cracked a smile which, to be honest, made me cringe and try my best to dissolve into my chair too. Noticing that the girl’s reaction was similar, I made a mental note never to butt into the conversations of the almighty of this world. Not good for your health that…

“As mentioned,” the mogul went on, “we did not see eye to eye. And, because any mention of real people who had reached the apex of the game without investing a single real coin, was contested, we decided to conduct an experiment. To that end—”

“Ahem,” the President coughed, drawing attention to himself. “I thought we agreed that I would be the one to outline the challenge? If you go on, you’ll pile on a bunch of limitations and then good luck finding a way out. And so! We have created a planet in
Galactogon
and on this planet we have hidden a single, unique item. Your task is to start playing from the very beginning, find this planet and, as a final touch, pick up this particular item. I should tell you right away that no one will be able to pick up this item without having the right skillset, but whoever does will receive a check in the sum of one billion pounds sterling.”

“What’s the catch?” this time, I couldn’t help but blurt out. No one simply gives away presents like this—so logically, now should come the information that would put an end to any hope of winning this prize of prizes. One billion pounds is…well, it’s everything! It would guarantee a carefree old age for my great-great-grandchildren. It was definitely worth fighting over.

“There is no catch, as such. The planet’s location is known only to a select few of the game’s locals—that’s what we call non-player characters (or NPCs) in
Galactogon
. You will have to figure out who they are on your own. But even this is not the main thing. All three of you will start the game in specific circumstances. One of you will start without a credit in your pocket, just like all new players. Here, I must note that buying credits with real money is strictly forbidden and is grounds for disqualification. Another one of you will receive a monthly salary equivalent to a senior researcher’s monthly salary. This will be credited to your in-game account. The third player will also receive monthly payments to their game account, but these will be equivalent to a senior researcher’s
annual
salary. You can spend your funds as you see fit…Well, I mean the two of you that will have such funds. For all three of you though, the only objective is to reach the planet with the billion-pound check. We’ll cast dice to determine who will play what role.”

“But that can’t be all the conditions, right?” I asked, understanding perfectly well that a player with unlimited money would be in the winning position from the get-go. In which case, how could such an experiment be considered objective?

“Yes, there are several further conditions. The player with the annual salary—or as we will call him, the unlimited player—can only play the game no more than four hours a day. One minute more and he will be disqualified. The semi-limited player can only play eight hours, while the third has no time limitations whatsoever and can play all he wants.”

“Why would two individuals as famous as you decide to bet on three ordinary players?” I asked the question that probably should have been asked at the very beginning of the conversation. “I mean, something could happen to us. We could become depressed…or even, I don’t know…come down with something serious and be unable to go on.”

“This is precisely why there aren’t just the three of you,” the President smiled. “There are altogether twelve players, distributed evenly across the game’s twelve empires: Three professional gamers who specialize in
Galactogon
; three professional gamers who don’t know anything about the game (that’s you three); three ordinary, as you call them, users who are merely familiar with
Galactogon
; and a further three ordinary users who have absolutely no experience with games at all. That’s twelve players, who shall tomorrow set out in search of our little scroll.”

“What type of interface can we use to play?” Constantine asked.

“Despite the fact that your question is somewhat over my head, I will attempt a response,” smiled the mogul. “You may play the game either in Third Person mode—that is, with a VR headset—or through the First Person somatic interface—that is, with a gaming capsule. I should mention that the game does not have…but no, you will discover the rest on your own. Now, I have a question for you. Do you agree with our proposed terms and do you agree to this job? By our calculations, the search could last several years, so we are prepared to offer you a monthly stipend in an amount that is, again, commensurate with that of a senior researcher. We don’t want you to be worried about money during your quest. There are no strings attached to this—you can spend all two years lying around on your couch for all we care. All you have to do is make that first, initial log-in. That is, you must be in-game tomorrow by 6pm. The only limitation is that there can be no alliances or teamwork among the participants to the wager. Each one of you has to play for himself or herself alone. There are many empires in
Galactogon
and you will be starting your games in ones that are at war with each other. As I already mentioned, there are twelve of them altogether. If you are willing to set out on this journey and agree to all our terms, please place your palm on the screen.”

A hologram of the contract materialized before our eyes. Getting comfortable and entirely forgetting the others’ presence, I began to meticulously peruse the document. Regardless what piles of gold were glinting in the distance, it was mandatory to familiarize myself with my rights and obligations. Without that, forget it.

“I was sure that you would all agree,” the mogul said with satisfaction as soon as all three of us had signed the contract. “In that case, let’s cast the dice. Eunice, as the only lady, we will allow you to roll the dice first…”

Eunice rolled a 17, Constantine a 12 and Alexis (me, that is) a 9. Two 2s and a 5 isn’t the luckiest throw and it put me firmly in the rearguard…Welp! No unlimited game for me, I guess.

“And so we have determined the order of selection. Eunice, which of the three games types do you choose?”

“Unlimited.”

“Affirmed. Constantine?”

“The second—the semi-limited.”

“Affirmed. And you, Alexis, will play the limited game type then. Affirmed. In that case,” the President got up from his chair, leading us by example to stand up as well, “tomorrow morning all three of you will be visited by technicians who will install specialized
Galactogon
capsules and VR headsets. The game itself commences tomorrow precisely at six in the evening. Tonight you will be accommodated here in the palace. We want to ensure that you will set up your characters without any preliminary research. After that, no help is bad help, pardon the tautology. But not yet. Oh! One more thing: Please notify all your relatives that you will be unavailable until tomorrow evening. We don’t want them to worry needlessly. All incoming calls are blocked in the palace. Best of luck to all of you and thank you for participating in our little experiment!”

“Please follow me,” the steward from before appeared beside us. “I will take you to your chambers.”

“Guys, since we’ll be locked up here together for the next day, I propose we celebrate the sad, sad passing of our respective game worlds,” I offered at our communal dinner. Thank god that the Masters had not forbidden us this essential tradition—odd, seeing as we had been accommodated in different rooms, even different floors, to prevent any chance of our interacting. They were a strange bunch, these Masters…A game, after all, is just a game—it shouldn’t have any effect on real life! The fact that we might hate each other in the virtual world didn’t mean that we should feel the same about each other in reality. I mean, this was like kindergarten!

“Agreed,” Constantine upheld my proposal. “While we’re at it, let’s pool anything we know about
Galactogon
. It’s silly to compete in real life—there’s more than enough of that in-game.”

Now didn’t I say that men are a sufficiently reasonable bunch..?

“Oh no,” Eunice instantly cut him off. “I don’t see any point in sharing knowledge that could help me win…But I’m always down to hang out…Can I get some wine?”

“And you and I will get into some scotch, okay?” Constantine glanced at me slyly. Hah! He thought he’d found himself a chump!

“Of course! If we’re going to celebrate, than palace single-malt is the only proper way!”

(Three hours later.)

“…Hic! And then we came flying in on griffons when everyone was expecting an assault from the ground. Why, we darkened the skies!”

“…Alex, what class do you think is better—a Pal or an Assassin? Wanna bet I’d get you? I would show up with decoys and then…”

“…I was an officer in the toppest clan in all of
Draanmir
! Why, the newbs would send me tribute daily…”

“…All men are scum! You simply can’t be trusted! Hic! Unreliable, unfair, weak…”