Jayden 3: Whateley of Warcraft (Part 3)
Whateley of Warcraft Part 3 of 4
By Crazy Minh
N“Crap, I’m so sorry guys!!! I’m totally late!!!”
My friends looked up and smiled as I sat down with my dinner. I quickly dug in as Alex looked at me expectantly. Ivy nudged him hard in the ribs. As he exclaimed in pain, I looked up and grinned.
“Thanks for the game by the way. It’s GREAT!!”
Alex stopped grimacing in mock pain, and started grinning too.
“So how was it??? What Archetype did you choose??”
I pretended to ponder this as Alex got more and more impatient. Finally, I answered.
“Oh, I saved the evil faction capital, started a guild and won a bar. My archetype was one called a Gunslinger.”
Alex laughed uproariously. He was so amused at whatever he found so funny that he fell off his chair. Ivy looked on in confusion as Alex picked himself off the floor and calmed himself down. He then gave a slow clap.
“Dude!!! Gunslinger is a almost non existent class. Only one person IN THE ENITRE GAME has the class, and he rules over a large kingdom in Good territory on Tertius. You CANNOT have gotten a class that people have literally been trying to obtain for the entire lifetime of the game. The class is so bloody overpowered that it can SOLO most bosses, and is known as a world-changing ‘class’. The developers have even said that there is only ever going to be TWO gunslingers on any one server, and I’m pretty sure that it wouldn’t just crop up just for you.”
I smiled, and bought out my laptop. Five minutes later, Alex was passed out on the floor with a look of shock imprinted onto his face. I left the Crystal Hall, and headed back to Melville to go to bed. Along the way, I noticed that there was a distinct lack of other people. The lights along the path were also offline, and the area ahead was dark. Too dark to be just shadow. I tensed up, and reached for my gun.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”
I spun to see a student standing behind me. He was clothed in black, and had a nasty grin across his face. I heard a scuffling sound behind me, and turned to see a pair of students stepping out of what I now knew to be artificial darkness. They had the same malicious grins. They all wore a patch on their shoulder of a symbol that suspiciously resembled the Assassin’s Creed logo. With the exception of the first kid, all three wore black balaclavas.
“I’m terribly sorry guys,” I said. “But you seem to be in my way. I don’t suppose that you would mind moving away and going to somewhere where you can actually walk away unharmed??”
the unmasked kid laughed, and tossed his head back. He looked back at me and grinned even more. He stepped towards me, a movement mirrored by the other kids. I mentally activated my arm’s hidden camera, and simultaneously activated the Taser units built into the knuckles of the hand. I moved into a defensive pose, just as the kids charged. The unmasked kid pulled some kind of nightstick from his belt and swung it at me. I blocked with my biological arm, and shocked him with my Taser hand. Keeping myself moving, I spun the unconscious kid round into the path of the first of the two masked students (a very burly boy with a glowing orange fist) and blocked his punch with the limp body of the sleeping assailant. The burly kid stumbled back right into the path of the other kid, who slammed into his back. While the two of them were off kilter, I used my robotic arm to throw the now conscious nightstick-kid (who was groaning with pain) into the other two, knocking them on their backs. While they struggled to their feet, I aimed my gun at them and took a firing stance. I used the contact circuitry in my robotic hand to activate the underbarrel camera and take a much better picture of the kids. Unfortunately, the kid lying on the ground was face-down, and was not in a position to be better identified. The other two took two unsteady steps back, before suddenly crouching as the smaller of the three (who had taken less of a beating throughout this) sent a cloud of darkness pooling out of the ground around them. when it dissipated, the three were gone, with a trail of footprints leading off into the dark. I continued on my way back to the cabin, using my neural implants to compose a message to the campus security helpdesk. I attached the shaky (but pretty clear) video to the end of the email, along with the photo taken with my guncam. I then marked the message as ‘high priority’, added my contact details and sent it off. With that done, I arrived in the foyer of Melville, entered the lift, and rode it to the my floor. I then promptly went to bed.
A warning, to the people;
To the good and the evil
This is war…
I came awake with a start to my alarm clock playing ‘This is War’ by 30 Seconds to Mars. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, and Alex was snoring in his bed. I got up and checked my mail as I got dressed. There was a message from Chief Delarose of the Whateley Academy Campus Security Department asking me to go down to Kane Hall to give a statement ASAP. I also had a message in my new personal email account (A really early iteration of Gmail which was nearly identical to the version of the service in the 2007 of my original dimension) from a few members of my new guild asking me if I was going to log on at the arranged point this evening. I replied to all of them (manually due to the lack of a reply all button with the archaic software) that I would indeed be logging on, and that we would be holding a meeting to discuss our first moves as a guild. I also attached a draft file to each detailing the code of conduct for the guild, as well as the ‘Guild Constitution’ which stated the initial rules of the guild. I attached a message saying that the constitution would be on the agenda for the guild meeting, as well as recruitment, guild roles as well as objective of the guild. With that, I got dressed, and headed down to the Crystal Hall, waking Alex as I left. After breakfast, I headed to Kane hall to give my statement to security. I walked up to the building, and gave it the once-over.
Kane hall appeared to be a combination of a T-shaped main wing connected to a tall tower with a observatory dome on top. It was relatively more modern than other buildings like Poe cottage (which other students said was the madhouse of the school, and more said had gotten this title by being home to some kind of perpetual orgy or other thing). The building was approximately 4 stories tall without the observatory, and had glass-and steel renovations to closest end of the T section. I walked through the entrance, and followed the signs to the security office. I walked in, noticing that there was signs of recent painting and repairs to sections of the building. I stood in front of the vacant reception desk, and rang the countertop bell.
“Can I help you?”
A man wearing a security uniform walked out of a open door behind the desk. He sat down, and smiled at me with a forced expression. I cleared my throat and spoke.
“Hi, I’m Jayden Reynolds. Chief Delarose wanted to speak to me about a…incident that occurred last night. I was told I was to meet him here.”
The man grinned without the forced bit of the expression and let out a sigh.
“Great. Sorry about my reluctance, I thought you might be one of the shifters playing a prank. They’ve been imitating other students and causing a big ruckus around the campus. Chief Delarose is waiting in his office. Just down the hall there and third on the left.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning now that I knew what was up with the expression. I waved goodbye, and walked down to the office. Along the way, I noticed a sign giving directions to holding cells. I wondered why Americans needed such things in a school, regardless of whether it was a mutant school or not. I had already gotten used to the term ‘Freshman’ and the unspoken ‘rank’ it came with for students like me, but I still didn’t get the Americans with their lopsided school terms and their weird national pastimes. I saw the stencilled words ‘Delarose, F. Chief of Security’ on the doorway that was my objective, and knocked on the glass portion of the door. A man responded on the other side:
I walked in to find a rather nondescript office. It was about six square meters in area, and featured a desk with three retro-style bucket chairs. On the desk was a pile of paperwork and a computer, and behind the desk was a man. He was nothing like the stereotypical fat-ass cop, and was actually quite fit for his age. He wore a jacket with the Whateley Academy logo on one shoulder and a nametag saying ‘Franklin Delarose: Chief of Security’. He gestured to a chair which I proceeded to sit down in. He tapped a few keys on his keyboard (making me think that the stereotypical awkwardness of starting a conversation may be truer than I first believed) and turned to me. He was thankfully not grinning. That was getting repetitive.
“Mr Reynolds. You should know that your little encounter last night has already been dealt with. Your attack was not the only one last night, and the three wannabe muggers had the unfortunate pleasure of running into The Bad Seeds, and attempting to mug them. I believe at least one is currently still human. Anyway, I was going to call you in to talk about the incident, but because that little issue has resolved itself, I’d like to discuss something else with you.”
He stood up and walked to the window. I sat there as he continued on in a more vibrant tone.
“Sargent Bardue has been talking with me about your performance in Light Weapons. In his words, you are ‘A good man with a clear head and a excellent talent for using firearms’. From him, that is the highest praise you could get. Have you heard about Whateley’s policy for Student Assistants?”
I shook my head. Despite my extremely fast reading ability, I was still unable to finish the 600 page Student Handbook. I was only on the sections regarding student conduct in green flag situations, and was yet to cover anything else. The Chief smiled, and picked up a piece of paper. He passed it to me. It was a sheet with a list of guidelines and a agreement for me to sign. Delarose continued his explanation as I read through the guidelines.
“If you accept the conditions written here, you will be a Teachers Assistant to Gunnery Sargent Bardue in the Light Weapons Class. You will not be paid for the role, but will have supervised personal access to the range and a wider range of the associated materials, and will also receive a extra credit at the end of the year, in return, your role will be to assist with practical demonstrations, help supervise class activities and assist the instructor in any way that is required.”
I looked up and asked for a pen. Delarose passed me one, and I quickly scribbled my name in the required sections. I dated the form, and passed it back. Delarose stamped it with a security logo, and signed the boxes next to my signatures. He then put it in his ‘out tray’, something I recalled seeing a lot in my own 2006 back in the day. God, if I’d actually been born here, I’d be something like 5 years old…
“Thank you for your time Mister Reynolds,” said the security chief. “Now, you need to get to class. Chop, chop!”
I left the security building and headed to class. After enduring a period of remedial modern history (where I must have seemed to be the dumbest person to ever live, with my multiple and very basic clarification questions), I headed down to the labs for my third period Devisor lab class. I had already been excused from first period for my talk with Chief Delarose, and I felt lucky that I hadn’t had to endure the stares of astonishment from several of the remedial history students (all in disbelief that a person could emulate having lived under a rock for their entire life so well) for too long. I was excited to begin working on my BISKIT project, and therefore used a portal to get to the labs quicker. My coordinates were off slightly, and I arrived in the adjacent lab, right in the middle of a class.
“What the…???” asked the blond devisor whose desk I was not standing on top of. A few egg-shaped gadgets fell of the desk, causing the girl to quickly attempt to catch them. I apologised for the interruption, and left the room. I opened the door of the correct classroom and sat at my bench. Rasputin came in, and immediately told the class to get started. He nodded to me, and told me to start work on my project as well. I complied, pulling out a few items from my Bag of Holding in my room. When you have the ability to create portals to pretty much anywhere in a 30km radius, as well as the (currently non-functional) ability to create portals to any place or time in any other dimension, things such as ‘leaving stuff somewhere’ and ‘forgetting to bring equipment to class’ don’t collate or exist. I layed out the items on the benchtop. There was a commlink from the universe of the tabletop game Shadowrun, a few spools of nanowire of my own creation, a bag of ODN nodes from the Star Trek universe and a few gravimetric motors that I had purchased from a alien bazaar from the asteroid city of Tiaanamat (located in the midst of the Rings of Akhaten from the Doctor Who universe). I began pulling tools and components out of more portals, all while listening to Stranger in a Strange Land by 30 Seconds to Mars.
…The end is coming
Now we're gonna live forever
Gonna live forever tonight
As the song I had first listened to on my playlist finished for a second time, my computer bleeped as the code I had written finally uploaded onto my creation. It had taken me 35 of the 40 minute class to finish my project, and Biskit was finally ready to power up. Rasputin came over and looked at my hard work.
“That,” he said. “Is one scary-looking machine. It looks like the T-100 decided to become a dog!!”
I laughed. “In a moment the hardlight hologram systems will have finished booting. He’ll resemble a small toy dog. I couldn’t leave him looking threatening, and the toy dog look will perhaps make him blend in more with the environment.”
Rasputin nodded to the laptop, which was displaying a message. “It looks like your AI program is ready to run. Try booting up your little friend. I’ll be surprised if such a rushed job works as intended…”
“Who are you calling a ‘rushed job’??”
Rasputin looked at the pint sized dog who had just snarked back at him. I also looked at my creation and smiled. He now looked like a beat up toy dog made from a bluish black cloth. Yellow highlights were on the bottom of his paws, the insides of his ears and the underside of his nose. The only visible robotic parts were his eyes, which were refocusing like the lenses of a camera. He looked quizzically around the room.
“What is this place??? For that matter, who am I??”
Rasputin looked worriedly at me. “Mr Reynolds, is your creation meant to be self aware??”
I nodded. He looked slightly alarmed, and stepped back. Biskit clambered to his four legs, and stretched. I crouched down to eye level, and let his facial recognition identify me.
“You…you’re Jayden. I recognise you. Who am I?”
I smiled, and held out a hand for the small dog to walk onto. He hesitantly stepped onto my hand, and I lifted him up. He clung to my hand as I walked through a portal and into my room. I placed him down on my bed, and sat beside him.
“Your name is Biskit. Now, I know this world is all new to you, and I’ll try and help you as best as I can. But, there are a few things we have to get out of the way. First, I want you to know what you are. You are a sentient machine, a robot. I created you as a assistant and a friend. But I will not tell you that you are subservient to me, because you are not. That is the easy way to start a robot uprising. You are unique, as there are many rules about machines such as you. To avoid causing a problem, you have to understand that while I may sometimes refer to you in a slave-master way, it’s not really true.”
I cleared my throat and continued. “As well as that little thing, I’d like to tell you a bit about this world. I’ll zap you a few files from my neural interface. Here are some files I didn’t include in your initial databanks. I’m also unlocking your internet access. That’ll allow you to pick up a few more things. I trust you won’t go near anything military or governmental under normal circumstances…”
After educating Biskit fully on the nature of the world and leaving him to explore the room (and telling him not to venture further lest someone dognap him), I went to meet up with Alex for the last little while of my free period. I arrived in the library, and found him talking with Ivy.
“…and that’s why we should do it!!!” he exclaimed as I walked up. “Oh hey Jayden!!” he said upon seeing me. “Listen, I think we should all do Team Tactics.”
I frowned. “Ok. But who with?? If you, me and Ivy are doing it, who will fill in the ‘minimum 4 persons’ limit??”
“That would be me.”
I spun to see girl standing behind me. She was dressed in the standard school uniform, and had a couple of books under her arm. Alex stood up behind me beaming.
“Jayden, meet my cousin Isabelle. She manifested a few years back, and moved away to come here. I just bumped into her, and she’s agreed to be part of the team.”
I was about to ask about my powers when I heard a scream from behind a bookshelf. One of the library staff was on top of a desk, and staring at a small dog on the floor who was struggling to get out from underneath a book. A small cardboard box lay on the floor beside him. I sighed, and picked up Biskit from under the book.
He drooped, and looked down. he looked so forewarn that the librarian jumped down to see if she could help. I refused her help politely, and hurriedly said goodbye to me friends. With that, I warped away and headed straight to my next class.
At the end of the day, I lay in my bedroom, exhausted. Biskit had been really inquisitive, and I had patiently answered his questions about everything. I logged into GGO, and arrived in the guild hall, which had now been completed by the NPC craftsmen I had hired. I saw that the rest of my guild was logging in, and were already chatting in around the circular table I had gotten installed in the private meeting room I was now in. I hit a gong that I had purchased the last time, and the room fell silent. Thank the devs for these chat-silencing gongs!!!
“Now, I’d like to introduce myself for those…uninitiated,” I said over the now-clear voice channel (my voice disguised by software and changed to sound like that of a South-American). As I did, the game’s excellent speech-to-text system converted my generated accent into chat messages for the players without voice chat set up. I sat at the front of the room, and settled into the seat. I shifted my view to 3rd person, and looked at each of the new guildmembers seated round the table. There were about 6 new players who had showed up, all of very basic character classes. I then continued to speak.
“I am Fenir, and I am your guildmaster. I do not expect you to like my decisions. But I do expect all of you to follow my orders. Even if they put you in a…unpleasant…situation. Anyone opposed to this, please, stand up.”
A single player hesitantly stood. I looked him over, and casually raised my revolver and shot him through the head. He collapsed, his health completely gone. All the players in the room didn’t squirm, but instead looked defiantly at me. I smiled.
“I see fire in some of your eyes. That’s good. Strength does not come from slavish obedience. It does not come purely from unity, nor from arrogant disobedience. Strength comes from that very fire, that tendacy to resist and rebel. I intend for each of you to train your individualism. This is not a guild that will fight as one. Not in usual situations at least. Each of you will cooperate as much as you can with your fellow guildmembers. If you disagree with my orders, you will find that disobedience strictly dealt with. As a part of this guild, all members will be free to pursue their own paths. You may feel free to ask for help. But, as with anything, help has a price.”
I paused, and looked around the room. The other players were paying attention, and I saw no side chatter or signs of rebellion. I noticed that my experience bar was climbing due to roleplaying XP awards. I continued to speak to the guild, my voice altered to sound like a that of a South American in the real world.
“If you feel that the guild is moving in a path that you dislike, you can easily leave. Just be warned that one day you may be the target of a opposing power if we stumble into a disagreement. But placing the negative sides of your membership apart, let me discuss the beneficial outcomes of staying in the guild.”
I took a breath, and paused, noticing that all the other players had perked up. I smiled in the real world, and pressed the key that caused my character to stand up. I walked over the dead player’s corpse, and dragged it out of the chair it was slumped in. I then tossed it onto the floor, and ordered the NPC pikemen to move it into the gutter. I then sat back down in my seat, and continued my speech.
“Primarily, the guild will maintain a armoury which will be stocked with all the equipment you would need for your ventures. At the conclusion of this meeting, I will be appointing leadership positions including a Quartermaster, a Treasurer and four Warmasters who will assist me in leading the entire guild if and when the guild participates in battles or assists another guild in a task. When you requisition gear, you pay a fraction of the standard price of that object to posses it. This is only available to guild members. You will also have a unlimited tab at the guild bar, for those persons who are interested. As a member, you are required to donate one item of value found during your travels to the armoury if you have looted a number of items. That item will be the property of the guild. Alternatively, you can pay a trifling amount to keep possession of all your items and simply continue your travels.”
I paused for a moment to check my experience counter. It was now at 300,000XP and continuing to climb. “Secondly, you will receive the benefit of being able to call on the guild for aid. If something crops up in your travels that cannot be defeated by a lone adventurer, you may choose to ask for help with the said issue. The final benefit is that you will receive rewards from guild-ordained goals. I will be issuing a decree of such things later. But, for now my friends, go forth in the name of the guild. Bring these words forward: POWER AND GLORY!!!”
“POWER AND GLORY!!!” yelled the guildmembers. After the meeting, I met with the people I had decided would fulfil the roles I had mentioned earlier in the meeting. I did some skill levelling, and managed to collect a tariff from all the guild members. Then, I logged off, leaving my character to do the task of exploring the city and investigating the records of a larger guild.
“What was that thing you were doing, Jayden???” asked Biskit, his small face quizzical. “I have no idea why you biological lifeforms take such pleasure in doing these trivial activities you call ‘entertainment’.”
I sighed. “We do it because it helps pass the time. We don’t have your ability to increase your perception of time, and it also helps us with developing social skills and also keeping ourselves mentally healthy. You should try playing some games with me.”
He cocked his head. “I’m too small to operate any form of video game controller I can find on the internet, with the exception of a neural interface.”
“Shame.” I replied, packing up my gear. I told Biskit to sneak round the building without being seen and have a bit of a wander. I reminded him that if he got lost, he could always activate his distress ping, and I’d be there. I went to dinner, unaware that something was happening in the virtual world.
Author’s note: PHEW!!! Longest chapter yet!!! These just keep getting longer WA fans!!! Anyway, a few notes here: I said last week that I’d be away this week. Unfortunately, I got the dates wrong, and it will be next week staring Monday through to Friday. I’m going to wrap up Whateley of Warcraft sometime after next week, but there will be more of the story yet to come. I plan on adding a story set around Team Tactics next, and another after that featuring some more cameos from OC characters. Just a reminder: I am probably not going to do any more TK cameos, mainly due to the fact that the storyline for them hasn’t advanced in nearly 5 years. I would also like to say that I believe that there is still hope for writing at least some of those characters under new authors. There was a change from ScramblerJ to Dianne for Ayla, and a few other characters have changed hands over the years. So canon authors: please resurrect the goddam Kimbas. They were the very first stories this site had, and they introduced the entire goddamm universe. They don’t deserve to just be abandoned as a loose end. Has anyone seen Galaxy Quest??? If you haven’t, stop reading here: spoiler alert!!
Anyway, the show in that movie was cancelled on a cliffhanger. As a result, fans were left to fill in the gap, and the original cast was retired to the convention circuit. Now, I know that isn’t the…best…of comparisons. But still, I think that everyone on this site wants to have the Kimbas return. They may have been completely overpowered and at least one of them was a total Mary Sue. But just because you can’t have the original author doesn’t mean it’s bad. I’ll give a example. Douglas Adams is best known for the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy radio series. He also wrote a trilogy that went two books over the standard three-book maximum for a trilogy. Anyway, after Adam’s death in the 90’s, Eoin Colfer of Artemis Fowl fame was asked to write a final book in the series. He wrote a pretty decent iteration of Adam’s original work. I don’t really like Colfer. He is not the best author they could of hired. Neil Gaiman would of done a better job of the humour in my opinion, and if they wanted a children/YA author they could of picked Scott Westerfeld who has written some pretty good sci fi novels. But Colfer, despite his literary shortcomings (in my opinion), did a pretty good job of the book.
So even if the original authors are dead, missing or just plain exhausted; it’s not the end for Team Kimba. Do competitions to see who in the community can write like those missing authors. Encourage the still-active writers to come back and do more. Do anything you can to get the Kimba’s back in action. But remember this: it’s not the end of the world if the original authors cannot come back. please bring back those awesome characters. We ALL want them back!!!