The Tears of Kas̆dael

They say time flies when you’re having fun. But when you’re stuck at work, anxiously awaiting the start of something fun, time crawls about as quickly as a newborn baby. Impatiently, Jasper stole a glance at the clock. It was 2:00 last I checked; it’s gotta be 3:00 by now. A moment later his hopes were dashed. 2:07?! This day will never end. Throwing his hands up in frustration, he tried to focus on work. At 2:55, his briefcase was packed, and he leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers in a relentless beat until at last, mercifully, the clock hit three.

He was out the door in an instant and peeled out of the parking lot as if the cops were in fast pursuit. Jasper really wasn’t normally the type to speed a lot - he’d never even gotten a speeding ticket before - but today he pushed the pedal to the metal. Well, fast for him - he almost went ten miles over the speed limit. On the way, he dialed up his girl, Layla. “Hey sugar, just wanted to remind you that this is launch weekend. I know you’ll be off in Vegas and probably won’t even think of me, but if you do need to get ahold of me, just remember to ask to be patched into the game. Love ya.”

Pulling into his parking space, he hopped out of his car with a bit more alacrity than normal, even running up the stairs to his apartment, a rare athletic feat from the slightly overweight 31-year-old. But today was a special day. Today the sequel to the greatest game ever released was finally being launched: Corsythia: The Zalancthian Invasion.

Twenty-five years ago, virtual reality was little more than a novelty that only the most hardcore gamers bothered to purchase. Until Corsythia: Desolyton launched, that is. The first game ever published by the Mwryani Corporation, Corsythia: Desolyton was a step above any other product on the market. An expansive fantasy world with dozens of unique races, hundreds of specialty classes, and virtually unlimited freedom, Corsythia took the world by storm, a truly global phenomenon that excited the interest of young and old alike.

For the first time ever, a game offered an experience that was practically indiscernible from reality, a true chance at a second life. But, in the wake of its enormous success, a storm of controversies followed. For some, the allure of the game world was so strong that they simply ceased to live in the real world: old folk who preferred to permanently live in a new, young body, free of pain; young people who had no real prospects in life; addicts for whom the lines between reality become blurred or lost.

The rising tide of people abandoning their jobs and even their families to live out their lives in the game caused many to call for its ban. And there were other, darker rumors, too, whispered tales of people going missing, vanishing without a trace. Of course, a game of this magnitude could not escape some level of government oversight, and the government assured the populace that these stories were nothing more than urban rumors, but that only added fuel to the conspiracy stories.

Still, the game was an enormous success until the “dark night” occurred. An online forum of players became convinced that the world of Corsythia was the real world, and that this world, the world they lived in, was some sort of purgatory that prevented them from returning to “reality.” And so, on the third anniversary of the game’s launch, over a thousand members of this group committed suicide. Awaken to new life! Shed the scales from your eyes! In the aftermath of the tragedy, their slogans circulated amongst a shocked public. The game’s critics swiftly capitalized on the tragedy, and, folding to public sentiment, the game was shut down. Two years later, a heavily modified version was relaunched, but it was a pale shadow of the original version. It was still a great game, but no one would confuse it for reality. After that, the Mwryani Corporation stopped making announcements, and most of its staff was let go. Ten years passed, and then fifteen, without even a hint that a sequel, or any other game, was being developed.

Until last month, that is. Shortly before the 25th anniversary of the launch, Mwryani announced a sequel: Corsythia: The Zalancthian Invasion. The news was surprising, but what truly sparked a furor was that Mwyrani promised that this sequel would be just as lifelike as the original version. The coverage in the media was largely negative: journalists wrote op-eds questioning the ethics of releasing the game after the tragic ending of the last one, congressmen looking for reelection promised that they would pass a bill to ban it, and of course, there was the usual panic amongst parents who were convinced that the game was dangerous, or, for some, a “tool of the devil.”

But Jasper didn’t care about any of that. He never got the chance to play the original version of Corsythia: Desolyton, but the second version was still one of the greatest games he ever played. All his life, he had heard the glowing tales from those who got to play the original version, of exploring another reality, and now, at long last, he was going to experience it for himself.

Arriving at his door, he hastily tried to jam the keys into the lock, only to fumble them. With a sigh, he picked the keys up, and, more carefully this time, let himself into his apartment. Barely bigger than a studio, his small living room was just big enough to accommodate his most recent purchase, a top-of-his-wallet, Centurion class immersion pod. He dropped his briefcase by the kitchen island and threw his jacket over the stool. Drumming his fingers on the counter, he hesitated for a moment. Do I want to get something to eat? The desire to just start playing was so strong, he almost went straight to the pod, but after a minute he decided to act like the adult he was. Alright, I’ll grab a quick bite to eat, take a shower, and then I’ll play. Twenty minutes later, he finally opened up the pod and slid inside. The lid slowly lowered shut over him, and for a second he was plunged into absolute darkness before the system’s drugs kicked in, and he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke in his lobby. Game lobbies were highly customizable, and he had designed his to be just like a 90s-era mall, with each game being one of the “stores.” Most days, he’d chill for a bit and see if any of his friends wanted to come and hang out in the food court before heading to one of the games, but today, he was in no mood for a couple slices of virtual pizza. After a quick glance at the mall map to confirm that the game had indeed been installed, Jasper headed straight for the newest store, Corsythia: the Zalancthian Invasion.

Upon entering the “store,” the familiar theme music’s grand notes swelled, and, after a quick loading screen, the character creation screen appeared. Character creation in Corsythia worked differently than in any other game he had played. Even though the game had most of the traditional fantasy races - elves, dwarves, fairies as well as a host of less common or unique races - every player started as the same race - Corsythian. In game lore, the Corsythians were an ancient race that had diverged from humans after millennia of interbreeding with virtually every other sapient species. Instead of selecting a starting race, as the game progressed, you’d unlock “heritages” through a mix of your decisions, quest rewards, and some good old rng. The heritages you unlocked played a major role in defining your character’s strengths and special abilities, although you could choose to ignore those. If you wanted to play a character with a dwarven heritage that specialized in dancing, you could, but you’d have a much easier time if you pursued earth magic instead.

While you could not explicitly choose a heritage in the character creation screen, players had quickly discovered that the appearance of your avatar influenced - but did not guarantee - what heritages you were likely to unlock. If you made a giant, heavily muscled avatar you were much more likely to unlock a troll or stryhtani bloodline, while a character with green eyes and dark skin was more likely to unlock a fey heritage. Stealth archers had always been one of his favorite builds, and thus, Jasper had usually chosen to make his characters tall, thin and pale - perfect for hopefully unlocking one of the elven heritages. Almost on reflex, he began to alter his avatar towards the elven archetype, but then he paused.

Do I really want to play the same old character? This is a new game, a chance to do something different. He thought through the known archetypes: Troll, Atrometos, Fey, Elven, Dwarven, and a few others. None of the others really called to him, but there was another option. The neutral choice.

If you didn’t alter your avatar’s appearance at all, but just used your own appearance you could still end up just another elf or dwarf, but there was an increased possibility of receiving a rare heritage. Looking at his avatar, Jasper couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the thought of using his real-life appearance. At 6’4’’ he was reasonably tall, but that was really his best feature. He had shaggy brown hair that was straight in the front, but curiously curly in the back. Murky hazel eyes, that some days looked brown and other days looked green. A little bit of pudge and a definite lack of muscle. And of course, his oddly shaped rib cage that flared out at the bottom - a source of teasing in his youth and still a source of a bit of insecurity even now. But, he knew his decision was made. The chance to unlock something unique was just too tempting. Before he could second guess himself, he pressed the “create” button.

The screen froze, and then went black. Jasper was plunged into utter darkness and silence. Worse, a pervasive chill spread down his body, as if he had wandered outside, naked, in the coldest depths of winter. Did the game malfunction? But I should be automatically ejected from the capsule then. The darkness stretched on, seemingly interminably, and just as Jasper was beginning to panic, two words flashed before him: RESONANCE FOUND. When they ceased flashing, Jasper noticed that the darkness was no longer absolute. In the distance, a dim light flickered. He could also feel his body again, although, it was so dark that he could not even see his hand in front of his face. Slowly, cautiously, he inched forward towards the light, feeling around in the dark for any potential obstacles. He soon realized that there was absolutely nothing except a completely smooth, flat floor. The cold still lingered, and his teeth chattered as his body shook with cold. Got to get to that light, and, hopefully, heat he decided, and broke into a steady jog. It was much further than it seemed, and soon he found himself bent over, panting with exhaustion. So my avatar is just as out of shape as my real body…great.

It took him almost an hour of intermittent jogging, his body stiff and unresponsive from the cold, until he was at last able to make out the source of the light before him. It was nothing more than a small campfire, in what was otherwise an empty dark void. But by the fireplace, with its back to him, sat a small dark form. He paused for a moment. He knew the original game had a robust religious system, and players would sometimes visit small divine realms, but that hadn’t been part of character creation. He wasn’t sure if this was some extended part of the character creation, or if the game really had glitched, but in the end, the decision was easy - he was freezing and there was a fire in front of him.

Cautiously he walked into the light of the flames, past the dark form. Turning to face it, he saw that it was a young woman. She wore an elaborate black dress, studded with an intricate design of metal and gems, and over her face lay a black veil. She didn’t even look up at him. Looking down, he saw her hands were covered in almost lace-like tattoos, and in them she held seven black dodecagons. She cast them on the ground, and for a brief moment they flashed with light. She stared at them for a while, and then picked them up, only to cast them on the ground as the lights flickered again.

Jasper stood by the fire for a while, basking in the welcome warmth of the fire, still too cold to care that he was standing there nude in front of the woman. Over and over again, she cast the die, not once glancing at him. When at last warmth began to return to his extremities, and she still had not acknowledged him, he realized he was going to have to get the ball rolling himself. “Uh, Miss?” She didn’t flinch. Feeling decidedly uneasily, Jasper cleared his throat and spoke a little louder, “Miss?”

Her head snapped up, and her hand froze in mid-throwing motion. Most of her face was still covered by a veil, but he was taken aback by the sight of her eyes, two glowing blue embers, an unblinking and unearthly fire. She stared at him, and then slowly, without taking her eyes off of him threw the seven dice. This time the light they flashed with did not immediately flicker out but glowed with a blueish flame. Slowly, silently, she extended her tattooed hand to him. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what the silent specter before him wanted. Does she want me to shake her hand? Kiss it? She sat frozen, her arm still outstretched, the dice still glowing, until he stepped forward, grabbed her hand, and bent down to kiss it. As soon as his lips touched her hand, she struck with the speed of lightning. With the hand he had bent down to kiss, she grabbed him by the head and pulled his lips to hers, while with the other she punched straight through his rib cage, and pulled his beating heart out. In Jasper’s apartment the lights flickered as he screamed in his sound-proofed pod, and then all was silent.