The Shop, continued
Dec. 12th, 2008 08:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerI clicked on the icon, and my weaponmaster set out from his hut to inspect the wrecked weapon.
It was obvious when I thought about it. The citadel was defending itself perfectly well against all comers. What were these weapons doing out here? Obviously, attacking it. Maybe if I could get them working again I could at least distract it long enough for my soldiers to get near it.
There was a big counter-argument right there in that the weapons were, well, wrecked. But the fact that anything of them survived might well suggest that they were beyond the citadel's maximum effective range. The other problem was a bit more serious. One of the weapons was in red's territory, and I was prepared to bet that all five would be needed to keep the citadel occupied. I was definitely going to have to take red out, and that eftsoons or right speedily.
Promoting the knight again gave me spy capability, though, and that was an opportunity not to be wasted. I created one and sent him towards the citadel, while expanding my military capability. The weaponmaster finished his inspection and demanded large amounts of iron and crystal, which I couldn't quite supply yet. I upgraded the crystal miners.
"Lunch time," Liliana announced, and we swapped places. It was becoming quite a comfortable and smooth operation: I got out of the chair one way and she slid in from the other. A bit more practice and we could probably do it in mid-battle. I told her briefly what I was doing.
"Ah, you did work it out," she said.
"As you said, it was obvious," I returned, and she smiled again. I picked up my bag and left her to it. I wouldn't see what the spy found out, if anything, but I could always send another one. Or the same one, if he got back alive.
Still no sign of Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula. This was odd, but not overly so: he sometimes missed odd days, and nobody was really comfortable enough talking to him to ask him where he went. I had actually thought, at one point, of scanning through the settlement looking for a long-haired chap wearing Nikes, but I'd been too busy. Logic suggested, though (insofar as one could apply logic to this situation), that if he had time off, he'd want to spend it at home.
I wondered if he had a wife. Only soldiers died in combat, in the game world, but if a settlement collapsed it was to be assumed that all the inhabitants perished. Maybe his lady was nine or ten settlements back, halfway across the continent or whatever it was.
Was it a planet, like ours? I didn't think so. It didn't seem to have diurnal rotation, the seasons were a lot shorter, and the ecology was peculiar. Maybe it was just a vast virtual plane surface, stretching to infinity in all directions, expanding as new territories were needed. Or maybe once a mission was finished the land it had played out on was no longer required. And the people...
I was rapidly becoming overloaded with questions, and the lack of satisfactory answers was seriously bothering me. I wanted to know, damn it. If I was supposed to believe that these little sprites toddling about on the screen were real people in a real world, then I wanted to know how that world worked, and if they were happy, or free, or even possibly both.
I wanted to know if Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula was happy, or free, or both.
I wanted to know his real name. I'd been told it, but I couldn't pronounce it at the time or remember it five minutes later, and as I said, something about him discouraged casual conversation. He preferred touch; the pressure on the shoulder, that hug he'd given Liliana. He was a very tactile person. In a more formalised workplace he'd probably have been in trouble about it, despite the obvious lack of hostile or sexual intent. Some people just don't like to be touched.
Time to go back. I shelved all the questions, as I always did, and headed towards the shop.
Liliana was looking woebegone when I got back to the office.
"I moved too soon," she said. "Sorry. I lost all your army and hardly dented him."
"No problem," I said soothingly. "There'll be more iron somewhere."
"But what if there isn't?" She was really upset. I caught the edge of tears in her voice. "Suppose there isn't enough now? Suppose I've cacked the damn mission?"
"That's not very likely. This game is designed to be winnable. It has to be, otherwise we couldn't run the shop off it. There will be a margin for error."
"That's true," she said, not convinced but allowing herself to be comforted. "Of course there will. Sorry. I'm a bit--"
"It's all right," I said, sliding into the seat as she vacated it. It was true. My army was reduced to half a squad of bowmen and one solitary sworder, and red was all but untouched. "We need siege engines to get through his walls anyway."
"Yes, but I thought I could at least wear him down a little," she said.
"Don't give it another thought," I said, creating three more squads of each, and sending geologists to the exhausted iron mines. "We learn by doing."
"Oh, you know what I found out today?" she said, trying to recover her equilibrium. "I was talking to Nick out at the counter. Did you know he doesn't actually believe that all the stock comes from the game?"
"No," I said. "Where does he think it comes from?"
"Some factory in Eastern Europe somewhere. He thinks the game is just a rather silly sort of stock control system, made into a game so that immature idiots like you and me can handle it. Well, he didn't say that, but that was what he was thinking."
"Good grief," I said. "Well, I suppose it's a tenable theory."
She went quiet, and I looked up at her.
"Suppose he's right?" she said. "Suppose there is somewhere in the world that isn't as, you know, as messed up as the bits we know about? Suppose what we've been believing all this time is a load of rubbish?"
"Then we would look very silly," I said, "if we ever mentioned what we believe to anybody."
"Roger didn't believe it either," she said. "At least, I never actually told him, but I know he wouldn't have. He was a very down-to-earth kind of person--well, he had to be, given his job."
"He might have surprised you," I said, and kicked myself mentally as her fragile composure trembled and started to crumble.
"Well, he never will again," she said, and then the tears did come.
"I'm sorry," I said, getting up and putting my arms around her. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot." She was warm, and soft, and I had no right. But she didn't pull away.
"Hey, I brought him up," she said after a while. "My fault. I just can't stop thinking about him."
"Mourning used to take up to four years," I said. "They allowed for it. There were rules and things about what you could and couldn't wear. Widow's weeds and all that."
"I could put some dandelions in my hair," she said, and we laughed a bit. She was still crying, but the moment had passed, and I let her go. "I can't be like this for four years, though," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a hanky. "I couldn't stand it."
"Well, you're excused balls for twelve months, if I remember rightly," I said.
"I'll unplug the telly," she said. "Look, the game. You're being attacked."
"What?" I jerked my attention back to the screen. Everything was peaceful. When I looked back she had vanished into the loo. I sat back down and concentrated on the game. I may have sighed.
When she came out, face repaired and composure back in place, I had two weapons repaired and a full army again. "There, see," I said, turning to her. "No harm done."
"You're right," she said. "Are you still on for tomorrow night?"
"I'll be there," I said.
"Thank you," she said, and went back out to the shop.
I planted a siege engine workshop. The enhanced options were still there. That should make short work of red's walls. In the meantime, I still had a spy, so that must mean he got there and back unblasted. I sent him in again, determined to watch this time.
And boy, was it worth it. The citadel was huge. Black walls that I was prepared to bet would laugh in the face of ordinary catapults, weapons that constantly scanned backwards and forwards over a wide arc, and lots and lots of other machines, sitting silent and unmoving in the middle of a larger central rotunda than any I'd seen in the game up to now. No storehouse, no church, but a big and forbidding castle in the same black stone. And this I had to take down?
Forget five reconditioned weapons. I'd need a dozen mobile divisions and possibly a tactical nuke.
Unless...
I sent the spy in through the forbidding gate, which opened and closed automatically for him. Spies could pass in and out of any settlement as long as they weren't spotted by soldiers, and here there were none. I ordered him into the castle. This was a standard move; ordinarily, if he managed to get home with his information, you got a brief glimpse of what was going on in all the enemy's territories. I was gambling on there being more to glean in a place like this.
He picked something up, because a figure "1" and an icon of a scroll appeared next to him. I pulled him out and ordered him straight back home by the most convenient route, and turned my attention to building enhanced catapults and repairing the next weapon in line.
So it was a bit unfortunate that when I looked at him again he was running for his life from two squads of red swordsmen.
It was obvious when I thought about it. The citadel was defending itself perfectly well against all comers. What were these weapons doing out here? Obviously, attacking it. Maybe if I could get them working again I could at least distract it long enough for my soldiers to get near it.
There was a big counter-argument right there in that the weapons were, well, wrecked. But the fact that anything of them survived might well suggest that they were beyond the citadel's maximum effective range. The other problem was a bit more serious. One of the weapons was in red's territory, and I was prepared to bet that all five would be needed to keep the citadel occupied. I was definitely going to have to take red out, and that eftsoons or right speedily.
Promoting the knight again gave me spy capability, though, and that was an opportunity not to be wasted. I created one and sent him towards the citadel, while expanding my military capability. The weaponmaster finished his inspection and demanded large amounts of iron and crystal, which I couldn't quite supply yet. I upgraded the crystal miners.
"Lunch time," Liliana announced, and we swapped places. It was becoming quite a comfortable and smooth operation: I got out of the chair one way and she slid in from the other. A bit more practice and we could probably do it in mid-battle. I told her briefly what I was doing.
"Ah, you did work it out," she said.
"As you said, it was obvious," I returned, and she smiled again. I picked up my bag and left her to it. I wouldn't see what the spy found out, if anything, but I could always send another one. Or the same one, if he got back alive.
Still no sign of Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula. This was odd, but not overly so: he sometimes missed odd days, and nobody was really comfortable enough talking to him to ask him where he went. I had actually thought, at one point, of scanning through the settlement looking for a long-haired chap wearing Nikes, but I'd been too busy. Logic suggested, though (insofar as one could apply logic to this situation), that if he had time off, he'd want to spend it at home.
I wondered if he had a wife. Only soldiers died in combat, in the game world, but if a settlement collapsed it was to be assumed that all the inhabitants perished. Maybe his lady was nine or ten settlements back, halfway across the continent or whatever it was.
Was it a planet, like ours? I didn't think so. It didn't seem to have diurnal rotation, the seasons were a lot shorter, and the ecology was peculiar. Maybe it was just a vast virtual plane surface, stretching to infinity in all directions, expanding as new territories were needed. Or maybe once a mission was finished the land it had played out on was no longer required. And the people...
I was rapidly becoming overloaded with questions, and the lack of satisfactory answers was seriously bothering me. I wanted to know, damn it. If I was supposed to believe that these little sprites toddling about on the screen were real people in a real world, then I wanted to know how that world worked, and if they were happy, or free, or even possibly both.
I wanted to know if Zoltan-hound-of-Dracula was happy, or free, or both.
I wanted to know his real name. I'd been told it, but I couldn't pronounce it at the time or remember it five minutes later, and as I said, something about him discouraged casual conversation. He preferred touch; the pressure on the shoulder, that hug he'd given Liliana. He was a very tactile person. In a more formalised workplace he'd probably have been in trouble about it, despite the obvious lack of hostile or sexual intent. Some people just don't like to be touched.
Time to go back. I shelved all the questions, as I always did, and headed towards the shop.
Liliana was looking woebegone when I got back to the office.
"I moved too soon," she said. "Sorry. I lost all your army and hardly dented him."
"No problem," I said soothingly. "There'll be more iron somewhere."
"But what if there isn't?" She was really upset. I caught the edge of tears in her voice. "Suppose there isn't enough now? Suppose I've cacked the damn mission?"
"That's not very likely. This game is designed to be winnable. It has to be, otherwise we couldn't run the shop off it. There will be a margin for error."
"That's true," she said, not convinced but allowing herself to be comforted. "Of course there will. Sorry. I'm a bit--"
"It's all right," I said, sliding into the seat as she vacated it. It was true. My army was reduced to half a squad of bowmen and one solitary sworder, and red was all but untouched. "We need siege engines to get through his walls anyway."
"Yes, but I thought I could at least wear him down a little," she said.
"Don't give it another thought," I said, creating three more squads of each, and sending geologists to the exhausted iron mines. "We learn by doing."
"Oh, you know what I found out today?" she said, trying to recover her equilibrium. "I was talking to Nick out at the counter. Did you know he doesn't actually believe that all the stock comes from the game?"
"No," I said. "Where does he think it comes from?"
"Some factory in Eastern Europe somewhere. He thinks the game is just a rather silly sort of stock control system, made into a game so that immature idiots like you and me can handle it. Well, he didn't say that, but that was what he was thinking."
"Good grief," I said. "Well, I suppose it's a tenable theory."
She went quiet, and I looked up at her.
"Suppose he's right?" she said. "Suppose there is somewhere in the world that isn't as, you know, as messed up as the bits we know about? Suppose what we've been believing all this time is a load of rubbish?"
"Then we would look very silly," I said, "if we ever mentioned what we believe to anybody."
"Roger didn't believe it either," she said. "At least, I never actually told him, but I know he wouldn't have. He was a very down-to-earth kind of person--well, he had to be, given his job."
"He might have surprised you," I said, and kicked myself mentally as her fragile composure trembled and started to crumble.
"Well, he never will again," she said, and then the tears did come.
"I'm sorry," I said, getting up and putting my arms around her. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot." She was warm, and soft, and I had no right. But she didn't pull away.
"Hey, I brought him up," she said after a while. "My fault. I just can't stop thinking about him."
"Mourning used to take up to four years," I said. "They allowed for it. There were rules and things about what you could and couldn't wear. Widow's weeds and all that."
"I could put some dandelions in my hair," she said, and we laughed a bit. She was still crying, but the moment had passed, and I let her go. "I can't be like this for four years, though," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a hanky. "I couldn't stand it."
"Well, you're excused balls for twelve months, if I remember rightly," I said.
"I'll unplug the telly," she said. "Look, the game. You're being attacked."
"What?" I jerked my attention back to the screen. Everything was peaceful. When I looked back she had vanished into the loo. I sat back down and concentrated on the game. I may have sighed.
When she came out, face repaired and composure back in place, I had two weapons repaired and a full army again. "There, see," I said, turning to her. "No harm done."
"You're right," she said. "Are you still on for tomorrow night?"
"I'll be there," I said.
"Thank you," she said, and went back out to the shop.
I planted a siege engine workshop. The enhanced options were still there. That should make short work of red's walls. In the meantime, I still had a spy, so that must mean he got there and back unblasted. I sent him in again, determined to watch this time.
And boy, was it worth it. The citadel was huge. Black walls that I was prepared to bet would laugh in the face of ordinary catapults, weapons that constantly scanned backwards and forwards over a wide arc, and lots and lots of other machines, sitting silent and unmoving in the middle of a larger central rotunda than any I'd seen in the game up to now. No storehouse, no church, but a big and forbidding castle in the same black stone. And this I had to take down?
Forget five reconditioned weapons. I'd need a dozen mobile divisions and possibly a tactical nuke.
Unless...
I sent the spy in through the forbidding gate, which opened and closed automatically for him. Spies could pass in and out of any settlement as long as they weren't spotted by soldiers, and here there were none. I ordered him into the castle. This was a standard move; ordinarily, if he managed to get home with his information, you got a brief glimpse of what was going on in all the enemy's territories. I was gambling on there being more to glean in a place like this.
He picked something up, because a figure "1" and an icon of a scroll appeared next to him. I pulled him out and ordered him straight back home by the most convenient route, and turned my attention to building enhanced catapults and repairing the next weapon in line.
So it was a bit unfortunate that when I looked at him again he was running for his life from two squads of red swordsmen.