to the final boss, and there…
Grimnir, that bastard, is chilling in some temple, like he’s on a bench, and then the Emperor – our dude, Alex – with the words “I’ll carry everyone!” decides to just go straight in. Haha, noob! Looks like no one even did a guide for this fight, not even the top players!
As soon as I heard his order, I knew it was some kind of bug in the matrix. Like, you can’t spill blood on holy ground, everyone knows that! But he, that pay-to-win power-user, with a cry of “For the Book!” – well, you understand what happened next – attacks. And, of course, a hidden trigger goes off!
And then… real trash begins! Undead, zombies – where did they come from?! I was in shock! A bug, definitely a bug, the devs failed the patch! Poor Emperor with the griffin, how those walking corpses swarmed them, it was almost a shame… well, not a shame, but… you know!
And then, bam! Everything is plunged into fog, as if someone cut off the power, and all hell breaks loose. We, like noobs, scatter in panic in different directions, praying to our god of RNG, because, well, where, in what guide will you read about something like this?!
The most epic battle turned into pure horror, just like in that creepy alpha version! Bugs, glitches, crashes, zombie apocalypse! It was just… unbelievably cool!
And now… I’m locked in this twilight city, and everything around me seems frozen. And I’m like, “What’s next?!” This is awesome! Surely the devs have prepared something VERY cool for us! What level? What quest?! I can’t wait to find out!
So I, as the last surviving noob, am waiting for my epic quest! But it is not there. I just stare at the wall with the eyes of the undead and nothing happens my character became a mob and nothing works. Only messages and invitations to the game can be sent. But what invitations are there after this… I will not recommend this game to anyone. So much time was spent on leveling up and everything is down the drain…
Igor. Regular at a themed bar. Believes that “Dream” virtual worlds can kill players.
Alright, you’ve bought me another couple of beers, so listen up, imagine that I’m some seasoned bard by the fire telling you this story.
I arrived later than all the top players that day, I guess. Frankly, I just overslept and showed up when the sun, dim, like the eye of a dying giant, was already sinking towards the horizon. And the warriors were fighting knee-deep in mud and blood and were ready to collapse into that mud for a short respite, despite the risk of being trampled by their own comrades. The sky, like a piece of ragged cloth smeared with bloody sunset stains, was darkening, and it seemed that it was all over for the day. Neither side would be victorious. Everywhere were the cries of the wounded and the roar of warriors fighting at their limits. You feel how the stench of artificial sweat and rancid oil from thousands of bodies crawls into your nostrils. You want to drop everything, turn around, and run away from this place.
But down there, lay that medieval city, the Citadel of Darkness, craved by our clan leaders like a lollipop by a child. I’d call it the Citadel of Despair, to be honest. Stone walls, as if they had been torn from the ground, black, cracked, like the skin of a leper. And they emanated not darkness, but a cheap and hackneyed idea about the opposition of light and darkness.
And against this backdrop, you see, stands that damn Alex. The Emperor of the Light, or whatever he is… A hero, for Christ’s sake. Sitting on his griffin, like an ornament on a Christmas tree, all snowy white, shining as if he’s filming a toothpaste commercial. He’s the embodiment of a cliché, you understand? A cardboard hero. And his eyes… there’s no pain, no doubt, nothing human in them. Just stupid, senseless determination, like someone who’s completely out of his mind.
And this so-called hero has gathered an entire army of freaks. Elves, of course, all so graceful, but behind their backs, I bet, sit fat nerds eating chips. Orcs – just total trash, sweaty, smelly, ugly, I don’t understand who even plays them, but they have huge two-handed axes, which is probably cool. And the humans, as always, are the average, gray and dreary, like the stones that pave the streets of this dark city.
And they all, like possessed, are charging at this citadel, howling at the top of their lungs, waving iron things around, thinking they are making history. But in essence, they’re just playing children’s games, and they don’t even feel disgusted with themselves.
And from the city constantly come out the same freaks, only in black. dwarfs, also with axes, but small ones, goblins with knives, and gloomy dark knights, the most cool type, but if you look closely, you can see the same typical models as everyone else, both dark and light. And so they chop away, like madmen, and everywhere, this fake blood splatters. As if cherry syrup had been poured on the pavement.
Above them, like vultures, circle a dragon and eagles, and at sea there is also complete epic. Storm, cannon shots, ramming blows from galleys and boarding parties. Death flies everywhere.
And this Alex, on his griffin, is rushing right into the thick of the battle. Fighting, cutting everyone down right and left. Who does that? It’s not realistic. Commanders should command, not participate in the battle. No one will believe that.
Okay, fast forward through this sideshow. The battle is over. Well, how is it over – one pile of pixels buried another, and now, in place of the battlefield, there is only stench and virtual blood. The Empire, what was it called, the Golden Griffin, won. Well, if you can call it a victory. Just the whites have fewer corpses than those in black. Although the losses on both sides are just huge. On the battlefield in front of the city and on the streets leading to the castle, there is nowhere to set foot, everything is littered with the bodies of the dark and light mixed together. Now you can’t even tell who is who.
But it doesn’t matter in the end, someone always wins, and someone falls, and all this is a farce, a game. When you turn off the VR, all this will disappear.
And so, the last scraps of defenders, like rats cornered, are hiding in this temple. I don’t know what they’re up to there. Probably think the gods will protect them, or some other heresy. They are covering the retreat of the rest who didn’t manage to become fertilizer, but where are they retreating to, into pixels?
And then he, the Emperor, descends from his griffin-steed. All clean, as if he hadn’t even fought, as if he just came out of a spa, although in reality he should have been covered in dirt, blood, and shit up to his ears a long time ago. But this is a “virtual world,” so no one cares.
And from the castle, like a devil out of a box, flies out some Grimnir. The master of the city. Looks like a clichéd lord of darkness written off from an old book about hobbits. Stooped, scarred, as if he had been bitten by all the local fauna. And in his eyes, you know, there is no hatred, but some kind of fatigue, like a taxi driver after a night shift.
And so, this damn dialogue begins.
“Grimnir,” this Alex drones on, like a broken record. “Surrender the Book of Fate, and I will spare your people.”
As if anyone had ever spared anyone in this virtual world.
And then… Role-playing and immersion are important in the game, you understand? And they start arguing like office plankton near the water cooler. They’re talking about company affairs, old grievances. Who didn’t share the shares, who squeezed the bonus… No, well, I understand that you are – people of the company, whose role is to bring players together in an epic battle of good and evil, arranging a global event. But work according to the scenario, read the text without deviations, you are not alone here, you are not playing for yourself.
Finally, Grimnir, with a rasp in his voice, waves him off, as if shooing away a pesky fly. “The Book of Fates will never leave this place.”
Well, of course, it won’t leave. It’s the plot, how would they change it?
“Then you have left