The Butcher of Gadobhra

In its day, the Grand Malkavian Hotel had been one of the top ten meeting places in any online game world. Weddings, parties, and corporate events had booked it solid. Thousands of computer-generated NPCs had waited on the guests, along with over one hundred human servants. That day was long past. A fading game meant a fading game world without much need for extravagantly decorated, fifty-story hotels. Its usual staff consisted of a dozen human workers and a hundred two-dimensional NPCs.

But tonight, it was alive, lit from top to bottom, and humming with the sound of thousands of guests and hundreds of real human workers, many in the posts usually taken by NPCs. From the maids to the chefs to the bellhop, everyone responded like the real people they were.

Within its walls, for tonight at least, food had taste and smell. Wine held its subtle flavors. Silk sheets would move and feel like real silk. A full set of sensory enhancements was available to the people using the new Mark7 Pods.

A few of the hired staff had hopes that this meant a return to the game’s former glory. But this wasn’t to be so. In point of fact, the Grand Malkavian would be scattered pixels in two days when this section of the game was shut down.

This was one of the reasons for the hastily organized meeting of the ACME corporation’s newest division of cyber acquisition. The old game worlds couldn’t be maintained, and while they only provided a fraction of the revenue they once had, that was still a loss that no corporation wanted to be hit with. They needed a new VR world, one they could monetize through real-world sales and VR entertainment, and that was the topic of tonight’s meeting.

The top hundred ACME middle managers had dined on filet mignon and lobster tails with copious amounts of liquor. Most middle managers had never tasted real lobster before, but those who had reassured them that the taste was perfect. And the alcohol was doing its job, turning the dinner into a party.

Once the dishes had been cleared, along with all the hotel staff, the CEO of the new division took the stage. Vernon “Uncle Vern” Throckmorton had been with ACME for eighty years. Good medical care would keep him spry physically for another forty. Whether his mind was still sharp was open to debate, but no one was challenging him soon. He knew where the bodies were buried and had put a lot of them in that cornfield himself. He was aging, bald, and fat, but his eyes were still those of a shark with a lot of bite left in him. He could have looked much younger within the game world but chose not to. He wanted to make sure all the youngsters knew who they were dealing with.

“Did everyone get their fill? Nice, wasn’t it? The steak tasted as a damned steak should. And like it used to - Hell, better than it used to. You can smell it; you can taste it; it feels good chewing it and swallowing. You can feel it in your belly. And not just the steak. The wine swirls in your glass, and every bottle has a different taste. A handshake feels like it should, and so does someone in your bed. How long has it been since that was true? Not since the crash. The old game is shit now. The only reason you can taste things tonight is that you aren’t in the old game; you’re in the new one. Welcome to the new world, people, the world of the Genesis Engine. Right now, it’s up for grabs, but in five years, it will belong to ACME, and you people are the ones who are going to make that happen.”

Vern paused and waited for the inevitable response. Sammy didn’t disappoint. “Wait, you’re saying we are in a different game? A new one?” Sammy could always be counted on to restate the obvious or need a repeat of instructions.

“Why yes, Sammy, thanks for repeating my words for folks that didn’t hear me. New game. And new opportunities for the ACME corporation. We get the first crack at taking over a chunk of cyberspace that every human is going to want to be part of. And we are starting tonight.”

Sammy sunk down into his seat, realizing he had forgotten his vow to shut up in meetings. The cardinal rule of middle management was don’t get noticed unless you have some brilliant idea to present, and those were damned scarce inside Sammy’s head.

“Now listen the hell up. You’re here either because you're brilliant and hungry to move up or a screw-up who we know is desperate to work your ass off. I’ll let you decide which description fits you best. This is a different type of job. One that gives you total control to succeed or fail. If you ever wanted to be in charge and make all the decisions, this is it. All of you have experience in Endless Questing Online 2 or 3. Hopefully, you spent some time building little kingdoms and blowing each other up. If not, learn fast. This is a new game, and we’re tossing you into the deep end to sink or swim. Each of you will then be given a chunk of the game world near a small village. It’s up to you and your crew to explore, conquer, exploit, and claim the local area.

“There are one hundred of you in the room. Twenty-five of you will each be assigned to a game quadrant corresponding to North, South, East, and West. You each get a crew of twenty-five workers, and you’ll need to hire them yourself. I’ve got twenty-five contracts for each of you. Each of them has a unique code embedded in them and is legal if signed in the game world. Use them to hire your crew of Contract Workers. ACME has worked hard on this contract. Don’t make promises outside of the contract unless you want to be personally responsible for those promises. “

“I see your little hands in the air already. Rather than answer all your inane questions, I’ll let Billy take over.”

William "Billy" Korvacs was a short and stocky man in his 30's. If he smiled at you just right, he might even be called handsome. He'd been with ACME from age 12. He was useful to his bosses and dangerous to people at his level. He'd either be in upper management by the time he was 40 or pushing a broom. Billy walked onto the stage, smiling and looking around the room, pretending that he actually liked any of the people in it. He’d expect Vern to do his usual act, droning on about the virtues of hard work and how he and the other old farts had built the company one brick at a time. He’d been surprised as hell when Vern turned the meeting over to him early. Billy hadn’t seen a fire like this in Vern’s belly for years. That made the old man a lot more dangerous and unpredictable.

“Thanks, Uncle Vern, glad to give my coworkers the information. I was lucky enough to be in on some of the contract negotiations for the first phase of Genesis. This project isn’t like anything else we’ve ever dealt with. In EQO1 and EQO2, all a corporation or individual had to do was donate a large chunk of cash to charity, and the AI running the games would sell them a chunk of the game world. We used it for virtual showrooms, beach resorts, racetracks, and anything else that we could think of to fatten up the bottom line. We don’t have that here. We have to compete with other corporations to improve the world and carve it up. We get to keep what we build and what we conquer, and it won’t be easy.”

“The Game World is massive, at least as big as Earth, and the creator has hinted at both underwater and subterranean civilizations and resources. The area we’re starting in is called The Empire. It’s low-tech and high-magic, like your typical fantasy world. But it’s full of politics, wars, and ongoing struggles between nations. You’ll need to get to know your area and don’t take the NPCs for granted. I’ve had a chance to talk to a few of the NPCs, and they aren’t stupid. If the guy hadn’t been a goblin, I’d swear he was real. I wish I had a dossier on the world for each of you, but I don’t. We are going in cold, just like the rest of the population of players.”

“But you know? I don’t mind. Anything that sets us back at all will hurt other corporations that don’t have our experience and know-how. We’re ACME; we like it tough! The world is raw and unexplored. You may have to do a lot of building and scouting during the first few weeks. Keep that in mind for some of your hires. You want workers, not managers. Quality is going to count here because you only get a crew of twenty-five people. So, go for people with experience in working and building in the older VR worlds."

"Do you have a question over there, Norman? Or are you just waving excitedly and needing to go pee?”

Norman sheepishly put his hand down. “Yes, what can we offer these ‘quality and experienced workers' that you expect us to find? What's the pay and incentives?"

Billy smiled; he was happy when someone asked a question he wanted to be asked. "Good question for a change. Firstly, you can offer them that steak. Or chicken or a good dark beer. Everyone…and I mean EVERYONE…who is in this game gets access to a full set of senses. Doesn’t matter if they work for us or own half the continent. The days of having to pay for upgrades are over.

“Secondly, ACME is sparing no expense for our first-wave workers. We will provide, at our cost, lodging at a corporate campus, food, and a brand-spanking new Mark VII gaming pod with full medical enhancement. That's a huge incentive to the half of the world that doesn't have health care or a job. And I got to tell you, brother, those remaining jobs in EQO3? They aren't going to be there long. Find those people working in VR now, and you have three things to offer them: A big chunk of cash when they finish the contract, free healthcare, and a job that’s guaranteed for five years. You might also mention that most of the current jobs are going to disappear soon as the old game shuts down for good.

They also get a small monthly salary. If they want to keep the real money, it will be invested in a growth fund with guaranteed earnings. Or, ACME will gladly convert their paychecks to in-game money. That’s preferable, and you get a bonus for each of your workers that you get to do that. The big payoff is at the end of the contract. If they last the full five years, they get a lump sum equal to ten times their five years of monthly paychecks. Even more generous if they stay on for another five years. Overall, these jobs pay a salary equal to a middle-tier VR entertainer. Quite generous for one of you and an amazing chunk of change for the people living at the bottom. You aren’t going to have trouble finding people, so grab the good ones.

“A word on these contracts: you can't alter them in any way. These are ironclad, non-breakable, and preapproved by the game admin, and by the courts. They can read them or not, but they aren’t going to be able to modify them. And neither can you. If you want to sweeten the deal, it comes out of your pocket. Make whatever side deals you like; they don't affect ACME at all, and you're responsible for them.”

“We have twenty-five contracts for each of you. You lose them, and it's going to cost you dearly to replace them. They have to come from the game admin and can't be copied inside the game in any way. You have 30 days to find your crew and sign them up.”

There was a loud ‘Harummph’ from Vern as he stood up, setting down a data pad that he had been scowling at. Even online, Vern preferred to read his messages on a device rather than bringing up a screen in front of him.

“Belay that, Billy. Things just changed. You’ve got 48 hours until we can enter the game world and get started.” Vern had a small smile on his face, but not in his eyes. “ACME is going to be there the first second we can, and we need our crews ready to go. To light a fire under your butts and make it more interesting, the first five managers with completed contracts and crews can pick their locations and get a nice Imperial contract to supply goods for the Legion as a bonus. That’s a significant advantage to those lucky five people.”

Billy was not happy. Normally, he was in control of himself, but not this time. He and Vern had been part of the ACME team working on this project for months, and he didn't like being surprised in front of a crowd. “What the hell, Vern? You just gave me the schedule before dinner. What changed?”

“No apologies, Billy. Shit happens. I just got the message two minutes ago. The game’s creator moved up the schedule. They want to do a thirty-day closed Beta session with a limited number of players and corporations. Only the top ten corporate sponsors are getting this chance. Which we damned well deserve! We paid ten billion dollars each for our spots and will pay more every year. But it’s worth it. We have the option to get into the game thirty days early, and we are damned well going to take it! This is ACME; we aren’t going to be second. I want to have boots on the ground the first second the game goes live.”

Seething inside, Billy put on a smile to encourage the troops. “Sounds good, Vern! You heard the boss, folks. We all have 48 hours. So, after you finish a bottle of wine and convince a maid to join you in those silk sheets, just remember to set your alarm and get to work early tomorrow. Norman, why don’t you come up here and lead a discussion on the terms of the contract? I’m going to hit the little boy’s room and be right back.” Norman could make anything boring and drone on for hours. If anyone could buy Billy some time, it was him. Norman took the stage, thrilled to have an audience that was forced to listen to him.

Billy had zero intention of waiting until tomorrow. Sleeping in silk sheets and guzzling champagne was for losers. And Billy didn’t like to lose. He knew that a lot of the others agreed with him. They’d all be scrambling to get their crews. He needed a couple of minutes to think about his options. He could call in some favors with agencies that handled the hiring for online work. The problem with that was that everyone would be doing the same thing. Ten corporations, with hundreds of managers all looking to hire people, would make it a shitshow, and he’d have to pay money out of his own pocket in bribes and take whatever they dredged up. He resigned himself to leaving this shindig as fast as Vern would allow and spending the rest of the night logged in to the online meeting rooms to try and grab a crew of people. Vern would be shoving work at him tomorrow and up until the moment the game went live. He only had a short window to get people signed up.

Ozzy had heard all he needed to hear. And it was just a bit cramped inside this dumb waiter he was eavesdropping from. He gave the signal to pull him back down to the kitchen. Dumb waiters were such an anachronism that no one remembered they were there at the back of the room. And no one expected that someone would jam themselves into one to eavesdrop. Which is why it was such a great spot to listen in on meetings. He’d been happy to find this one in the dining room still worked.

The news about the new game was interesting. And one with full sensory perception? Astounding, just astounding. Ozzy had been working for the rich and famous for decades and selling their secrets. Tonight, he could have made a fortune with this info. But he had other plans.

Using a Mark VII, full VR was beamed directly into your brain while the pod took care of your body. These medical pods were based on those currently in use in most rehab centers. Diagnostics monitored your body while nanites were dispensed for the ongoing care of injuries. The pod could take care of your muscles, feed you, and empty your bowels, and you’d wake up in better shape than when you lay down.

No clumsy gear; just lie back, go to sleep, and play for a couple of days at a time. Or a week. Or a month. As long as the pod had power and resources, your body was in a suspended state, but your mind was active. The older technologies like helmets or haptics were crap for playing a game like this. And an online worker needed to stay in the game for hours and days. That took a tank. And there were problems with the early tanks. Some of them had caused long-term nerve damage that only showed up after a decade. It was expensive to cure, too expensive for 99% of the people that needed it. After a life of working in VR, Ozzy had quite a few friends who would be interested in this information, and he wasn’t going to sit idle.

He’d brought Suzette in to run the dessert kitchen. She was happily flipping crepes into the air with pans in both hands. She was always happy showing off. A quick look from Ozzy had her handing off the pans, stuffing one crepe into her mouth and the second into her pocket.

After a few quick steps to an empty room, she asked, “What’s up? I was having fun. You can’t be angry I was putting on a show?”

Ozzy smiled. “To the contrary, I’m happy to see you having fun. But listen up, we don’t have much time. I have a line on the jobs, and I’ve confirmed they come with long-term contracts and the use of MK VII gaming pods with full medical support.” Suzette was suddenly very serious as Ozzy continued.

Ozzy had gone from ‘Fussy waiter who wants everything perfect’ to ‘I’m on a mission from God.’ Something was up.

“I want you to grab the key to the Scarlet Room. I need you to get some people up there. They need to be coherent, competent, have more than two decades of experience, and someone who isn’t going to be stupid about a contract. We’ve got a lot of good people here tonight. This is extremely time-sensitive to pull off. Get Rolly, Ben, and twenty-one other people up to the Scarlet Room, and I’ll meet you there.”

“And toss me that last crepe; it smells great, and I’m starving.”

Suzette laughed and handed over the crepe before running to recruit people. Ozzy went to find Mr. Billy of the ACME corporation.

Billy was pacing and thinking. He couldn’t send messages outside until he left the building, and he was tied down for at least an hour. Worse, while the other 99 middle managers were scrambling to get contracts signed, Vern would hand him a dozen jobs to do. He’d be lucky if he got a crew together by the end of the forty-eight hours. His musings were interrupted as a section of wall slipped aside, revealing a hidden passageway and one of the hotel staff walked up to him and actually bowed like he was royalty in some online simulation.

Billy recognized him as the head waiter. No, fancier name? Maître de? He was a large fellow with a bald head and mustache. Billy didn’t like having his brooding interrupted. “Something I can do for you, buddy? Lose some eclairs? Or looking for a missing maid?”

Billy had a knack for throwing people off balance. It didn’t work here. The man just smiled at him politely. “Yes, there is something you can do for both of us. If you would be so kind as to hand me your contracts and give me 20 minutes, I can return them to you signed by 25 experienced people, myself included, who will fill out your crew. They all have decades of experience and are what you are looking for. I handpicked them out of a thousand people working tonight. I understand time is of the essence, so I have them waiting for me to arrive. If you wish to accompany me, I quite understand, but things will go quicker if I present this deal to them by myself.”

Billy stared at Ozzy for several seconds as his mind took in that statement. Billy was smart, and he recognized when someone else was smart. He didn’t waste time wondering how the man knew about the deal. Hidden passage? Hole in the wall? Who cared? He knew. And he’d acted on the knowledge immediately and wasn’t wasting time. He wanted in on the deal, was making himself useful, and giving Billy a chance at a fat contract and choice of locations. This man knew how the game was played.

Billy handed over his contracts and stuck out his hand. Sometimes you had to gamble. ACME was not a place for people who didn’t take risks.

“Billy Horvacs, ACME Corporation.”

Ozzy took the handshake. “It is a Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Horvacs. Call me Oswald or just Ozzy. I look forward to working with you.”

“The faster you get those back to me, Ozzy, the better. I have a starting location to select and a contract with the Imperial Legion to snap up.”

Twenty-four people were waiting for Ozzy in the Scarlet Room. Though dressed as maids, cooks, or busboys, they all had experience in a dozen different jobs over the years, playing pirates, explorers, generals, and spies. Suzette had grabbed people she had worked with before or knew by reputation. And importantly, they knew her and Ozzy.

The room was a work of art, done in red velvet drapes, dark paneling, and glowing oak tables. It oozed luxury and old-world charm. As it should, being the fanciest private room in the best hotel in town. Normally, it was reserved for clandestine meetings of the ruling nobles, assassins’ guilds, or gods slumming on the mortal plane. None of which described the people using it tonight for a brief time. They worked for a living in VR, played roles in dramatic videocasts, or labored as NPCs handing out quests. Rarely did they get to go treasure hunting or killing monsters. But they knew how the game was played and how to exploit it when they had the chance.

“This wine tastes like dishwater, Ozzy,” said a small man dressed like a bellhop. His goofy smile would look perfect on a court jester. He swirled the deep red vintage in his glass and downed another large swallow, grimacing again.

Ben tasted the wine. “There were toggles in the controls for taste. I think you actually may have left it on the lowest setting. This is an excellent vintage.”

“Shit.” The bellhop concentrated before he took another sip of wine, finding its taste much more to his liking. “I always forget. Not like we get to use Taste anywhere now. And not like the food outside in the real world is even worth tasting. I swear the synthetics are blander each year.”

“In that case, enjoy it while it's here.” Oswald took his gold pocket watch out of his red satin cummerbund. “We've got the room for another 18 minutes. And I need contracts signed in 10 minutes. While you are all enjoying the finest virtual cheese this game has to offer - a very nice assortment I picked out myself - I'll show you what I've found that may keep us all gainfully employed for a long time.

“Rolly, I need you to read this contract and make sure there isn’t anything hideous in there. Ben, if he finds anything, check it out yourself.” Rolly started reading. To his left was his friend, Ben, who, at the moment, resembled a young and athletic Benjamin Franklin down to his buckled shoes. He always preferred roles where he could wear them—usually medieval drama, but he’d been talked into a bit of cyber history and had been having fun lately being a leader in the Android revolt of ’76.

Ben and several other people watched as Rolly flipped a page every few seconds, mumbling to himself. Rolly didn’t talk like someone smart, and his speed reading and nearly perfect memory took people by surprise. Ozzy continued, trying to give people the basic information as fast as he could.

“EQO3 is going to shut down. They’re pulling the plug. A new game called Genesis will go online very soon. These contracts secure our jobs for a minimum of five years. We’ll be part of the first wave of people in the game. They provide room and board in a corporate work campus, but you won’t be out of your pod much, if any. You will be using MK VII immersion pods maintained by our employer. I’ve managed to secure this deal based on signed contracts in the next few minutes. The contracts were approved by the game Admin, and they aren’t negotiable. If you don’t like the look of them, you can pass them up. But I think this is a good deal, and I’m in. They only pay a small weekly salary, but at the end of five years, we’ll all be richer than we have at any point in our lives. And we won’t be a day older. “

Ozzy signed the top contract, affixed a thumbprint, and passed the stack around the table. Suzette immediately signed hers.

Roland popped a large piece of pungent fromage into his mouth and set down the contract he’d been scanning. “There are no smoking guns. It's pretty tame for a corporate contract, actually. The money is spelled out. But I’m not sure about some of this. I’m not seeing any assurances of getting jobs that fit our skills. Nothing about how we create our characters and what the game world is like. Is there a chance we could get some answers about all this lawyer jargon and pin them down a bit?”

Ozzy shook his head. “I don’t think so. Any questions we ask will just get a blank smile and more lawyer jargon. It looks like a standard contract. I'm not worried. We’ve signed them before and then bent the rules after. And we all need this.” Benedict and Roland both signed. The rest of the people in the room did as well. It wasn’t like they had a choice. They needed the jobs and the healthcare. When the current VR world shut down, so would their income, and the real-world economy was still in shambles after the Wildfire virus. When they were all signed, Ozzy took the stack and stood up to leave.

“Enjoy the food and drink. You have 11 minutes left to get back to work. Rolly, if I can manage to get you a job with a pet, I will, but no promises. The same goes for the rest of you. I’ll pass on our preferences and talk to our manager if I can.” Rolly was happy with that and started stuffing cheese and fruit in his mouth, taking advantage of the buffet.

Many of the people in the room were relieved to have a chance at steady work. Rumors had been circulating that the aging game where they worked might be getting cut back for some time. 'Endless Questing Online 3 simply wasn’t what it used to be. While it was still the most advanced VR game available, it was also bloated and huge, and there simply weren’t the resources to keep it running.

Things had been going downhill for the last few years. After replacing EQO2 and providing exciting and realistic gameplay for three years, the game and its world crashed one day and stayed down for an entire week. Afterward, it was worse in every way. Formerly lifelike NPCs suddenly stood like wax statues in a museum. They stuttered through their dialog, offering the same beginner quests repeatedly.

The royal court simply walked back and forth, with the king nodding to people but not talking. Rivers and oceans were flat without tides or currents. The moon hung in the sky in the same spot each night, never changing phase. This was particularly annoying since it was a full moon, which caused all sorts of problems for villages near the Dark Forest.

It was like 20 years of technology suddenly wasn't there. There was a scramble as the new admin in charge of what was left of the game tried a quick fix by tripling the size of the human workforce and replacing most scripted NPCs with actual people. And it had been that way for the last few years while things got worse and worse. The world itself was decaying, with areas becoming unstable and unusable.

This meant better pay at first when there was a need for real people to fill in for unresponsive NPCs. But before long, people began to be laid off as the player base declined. Now, they were nervous about what the future held. The player count was in the toilet, advertising revenues even lower, and the corporations who normally backed it had been paying less and less for their in-game footprint.

Eight minutes after Oswald left Billy, he reappeared from the same hidden door and handed Billy the signed contracts. “If at all possible, sir, requests for certain types of employment would be preferable. A small note on the back of each contract indicates the preference. “

Billy nodded. “I’ll match them up as best I can. But I won’t lie; I’m going to need a lot of manual labor first, and the cushy jobs won’t be created until later on. We have to build this place from the ground up.”

“Acceptable, sir. Everyone understands. None of us are afraid to get our hands dirty. I will be around for the rest of the event if you need me. Oh, and the crepes are quite delightful tonight. Suzette is an excellent cook.”

Billy quickly looked at each contract, checking the signatures. He’d had his doubts and twice had forced himself to sit still and not run after Ozzy to reclaim the contracts. But the man had come through. Billy even recognized some of these names. He’d been a fan of the huge semi-scripted events in EQO2 that involved thousands of actors. Players paid a stiff fee to take the parts of their favorite characters. He remembered Benedict Franklin III and Roland of Ebonmount from the Siege of Orleans and The Dragon Wars. Holy shit! If the rest were even half as experienced as those two, this was a great crew! He hoped they didn’t mind shoveling dirt and chopping trees for a couple of years. Dirt and trees were about all the little villages they started with had.

Back in the main room, Vern was trying to ignore Layla and Sammy, who were badgering him for information. Norman was droning on about contract details. Talking stopped as the back doors to the room opened up, and the hotel staff brought dessert in.

A few minutes later, Dimitri was waving a signed contract around after talking to the waiter who was setting cakes out on the tables. “See, this is how you do it. First crew member.” He waved around the signed contract.

Billy got everyone’s attention. “Awesome job, Dimitri. You all see that? Dimitri has got one up on the rest of you guys. Try to be more like Dimitri. There are busboys enough for all of you.”

“I think you are just jealous of me being ahead of you.” Dimitri smiled. “Maybe you can come to work for me, Billy, once I take over.”

“Everyone needs a dream, Dimitri; you keep plugging away at that one. I’m ahead of you by twenty-four and the rest of these losers by twenty-five.”

Billy handed Vern his full set of contracts. Then, as everyone in the room stared at him, he picked up a fork and an entire cake. “Maybe after I’m done having my cake and eating it too, I can get a look at that map, Vern? I’d like to pick out the little shithole of a village that will be the start of my kingdom.”