Private Eastern Brisshal Frogs and Honey

[Corsair]

Corsair's star streaked across the sky, a brilliant arc against the night sky.

Below, in the dark forests of Eastern Brisshal, beside a slow stream, Corsair appeared. She looked around the dim forest. Where have I ended up? Is this the tutorial zone?

No instructions popped up. No helpful hints on how to play. No Animated, glowing arrows leading her to the next objective. I guess I'm on my own for now. Think. What would a robot do? "Hello world!" she said. Her first words in this strange, new setting, and they seemed more fitting than ever before.

Though the game made no effort to help her navigate, the spot she'd spawned in at held many natural wonders. A bank of gently daffodils grew nearby and she picked one, her robot hand instantly crushing the fragile blossom in a tight fist. It flashed red and then wilted, dead. She winced, and opened her hand, dropping the petal and opening her palm menu. "Oh!"

A litany of options appeared before her, and she glanced at them all, swiftly discounting all but two as useless in her current situation. No map. I need to get somewhere safe so I can read through all this documentation. She reached out and touched the floating options, enabling Assist Mode and Investigation Mode.

Her robotic eyes began to glow, shedding very dim light around her. She focused in on the flowers and tried again to pluck one. "Calibrating pressure," she said to herself, taking great pains not to crush the tiny blossom. She plucked it without trouble, and smiled.

Something jumped out of the river, and her luminous eyes snapped to the side. A nameplate appeared above the creature, displaying the name [Brown Frog]. It was a gorgeous specimen. Brown and green striped, and larger than the ones back home, though certainly no less beautiful. "How...fitting." Her voice quivered with the artificial modulations of her voice box. Was she emotional? Surely not. It was only a frog.

Corsair offered up the daffodil, and as she frog chowed down on the buttery blossom she scooped it up and slipped it into her jacket pocket. A childhood spent in backyards and public parks had given her quick reflexes, but she was very glad that she didn't have to test her speed them on a poor frog. It might have ended up the way of the daffodil.

"You need sustenance," she said, plucking more of the flowers and dropping them in with her new frog. Corsair looked around the dark forest for any hint of a way out. "And I need to get out of here."

@Janet Reilly

 

[Janet Reilly]

Just like in real life, Janet's star had already passed. She couldn't remember if there had been one when she'd originally logged into Terrasphere all those years ago-- she had probably been too flustered trying to find the 'back' button at the time to even notice.

But also like real life, just because something wasn't her first time didn't mean it had no value. She'd lived a full life as a mother and wife before deciding she was going to leave her husband, bet her life savings at the races, and move halfway across the world to live on a Japanese pear farm. In the first version of Terrasphere, she'd carved out a career for herself with just a circle of friends, a pair of horses, and a budding gift for Nature Magic.

And now she was back.

Stars could fall more than once, especially if you'd blinked and missed it the first time. Janet stumbled out of a patch of greenery, dressed in starting rags and avatar already showing the passage of time. She drew in a breath, virtual air filling her lungs, ready to speak her first words as Janet Reilly in over four years.

Instead, tears fell.

She hugged her knees to her chest for the next few minutes, unable to stop the emotion as it flowed unbidden out of her. It's real. I'm really back.

This was what no amount of racecars or riding simulators had been able to bring her. This was the hole that plane tickets and meetings with lawyers had failed to fill. Janet hadn't shirked at stealing second chances, but Terrasphere still held something more precious to her: hope.

The familiar roads around her too bore the mark of passing years - they did not look as new or friendly as when she'd first seen them. The village of Honeyhome, however, seemed almost identical to her memories, and Janet couldn't help but eagerly ask the grocer if he remembered her.

"I helped you deliver your goods all around town," she said earnestly. "Four or so years ago?" The NPC, who probably gave the same quest several times a day, seemed polite but apologetic. Janet's smile faded. "Ahem. Are you serious? You really... don't remember?"

Isn't he supposed to be like, a computer or something?

What was the point of having realistic memory loss? It should be a merchant's job to remember their customers.

"Where's those charming little children? They'll remember me," Janet said, thinking vividly of the twins probably anyone else would have best described as 'creepy.' Notably, despite her complaints about the NPCs forgetting her, she couldn't for the life of her remember the sisters' names. "Oh, they might be grown up now!" The thought was almost heartwarming-- there were few enough children in the game (she suspected more were playing using adult avatars - more on that later) that it was rather sweet to imagine them growing up peacefully during the shutdown.

...Right. The shutdown.

No matter her joy, Janet couldn't forget the dangers.

It was her choice to play. But for those who didn't know any better, well... I still have a chance to save them.

With this in mind, Janet made her way to the general store, anxious to outfit herself with something more than the old potato sack the game had seen fit to start her with.

 

[Corsair]

The night forest was full of sounds. Insects were the bulk of the noise, chirping, clicking, humming, and buzzing between the blossoming trees that rustled restlessly in the slight breeze. The whole forest creaked and shuffled around her.

Without any taste or smell, Corsair could feel her senses beginning to sharpen. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but she reasoned that it was the lack of distractions. With only three input streams instead of five it is far easier to isolate individual pieces of data.

An overgrown dogwood shaded her path, and she stretched up on tiptoes to smell one of the flowers. Nothing. Absolutely zero sensory input. Her nose was purely ornamental. Glad I selected a default option.

She picking her way between several raised roots. The gnarled, wooden steps joined in natural bowls, most filled with stagnant water. It was the kind of place adventurous kids would come to catch things. Not frogs. Diseases, mostly.

She marked it on her map for later. As she did, a chill in her spine made her stop. There was something about the bowls of waiting water that called to her. I should return when it's sunny, she told herself, and left the area as soon as possible.

Her frog wriggled in her pocket, growing restless. "Are you still hungry?" she asked, looking in her pocket. Half the blossoms were crushed, uneaten. "Would you prefer something still moving?"
She caught some little beetles, and soon her pocket was full of wriggling and crunching.

It wasn't long until she reached a path. It was wide, unpaved, and wound through the trees, running North-South. With such a limited map, cardinal directions were useless. What was North? There were only two directions that really mattered: Back towards her spawn point or further away. Corsair walked away from her spawn point, down the road. There was no point heading back to her spawn. Not yet anyway.

Soon she saw the flickering lights of a slumbering hamlet through the trees. Easy! All it had taken was breaking down the task into simple steps and then using her head. She smiled, as happy as a frog in a pocket of bugs.

There was a sign on the side of the road. Dark, stylized letters on simple wood. She squinted. "Homeyhome? That's rather simplistic, but welcoming, I guess." She headed through the gates, nodding to the pair of sleepy guards who paid her no mind.

Inside, she closed her eyes, straining her hearing to locate the noisiest place in town. Someone smashed a glass at just the right time and she set off again, striding through the cobbled streets and straight to the door of The Mead and Cheese.

The sign out front had a large bee stuck in a piece of swiss cheese. How rustic, she thought, and pushed the door open. Inside, the place positively frothed with activity. Villagers and players mingled, singing and dancing while they banged the tables to keep in time. Many people were even eating, despite the late hour. Nobody seemed to notice her entrance.

She crossed to the bar, where a barmaid flitted between patrons, delivering foaming cups of mead and freshly baked cookies. Cookies? "Excuse me. Miss? I wish to procure a room, what is the cost?"
"One gold per night," said the barmaid, giving her a quick smile between half a dozen other activities.
Corsair opened her UI and went into her inventory. Zero gold. They don't make this easy, do they?
"I'm new in town, and have yet to come into money. Could I perhaps stay for free tonight and pay double tomorrow? Or work for board?"
"We can always use an extra hand!" said the barmaid. She pulled Corsair into the kitchens and not a minute later Corsair was back in the bar, apron tied around her waist and delivering drinks to the residents of 'Homeyhome'.

 

[Janet Reilly]

Finally dressed in something more presentable than the threadbare rags the game loved to start them out with, Janet entered the tavern feeling a mixture of tired, triumphant, and put off by her experiences from the day.

She'd spent the afternoon re-completing the same basic quests as when she'd first started the game. Delivering groceries. Helping solve a dispute between a mother and her daughter. Escorting a very, very slow little old lady across town. Little had changed, but Janet was determined to restore her reputation in Honeyhome bit by bit, person by person. If the Witch Ops had taught her one thing, it was that NPCs mattered.

Not enough to die for, however.

If I'd sacrificed myself during the Titanius battle, would they remember me now? Janet wondered, pulling up a barstool and taking a seat at the front counter. She'd spent months in the game delivering vegetables to these people, exchanging goods and coin, having simple chitchat. Was that not enough? Did she have to die a hero?

Janet did not present like an NPC. She stood out among the others in the tavern, even the players she could see tapping away at their user interface and messaging system in the far corners of the dining area.

The girl sat straight and rigid as a schoolteacher, her back ironed out like a fresh sheet. Natural frown-lines that had somehow made it into character creation criss-crossed her face, even while her expression was neutral.

She pursed her lips.

"I'll have a glass of your house red, please," she said to the barmaid taking orders, leaning over the back of her chair. "You do still have the red, don't you?"

Janet's eyes lingered on the girl. I don't recognize her from four years ago, she thought. Had the tavern hired temporary help in the interim? There was something a bit strange about the way she moved.

She pulled up her palm menu with a quick gesture and spotted the name, simply Corsair. It was simple. Could be an NPC name. Of course, if it was, it sounded dangerous. Pirates in Honeyhome? What a ridiculous plot. It simply wouldn't do.

"I can't tell if you're to be trusted," Janet told her, suspicious, twisting further in her seat in an attempt to examine the pirate?barmaid. "Are you by any chance a—oh!!"

The stool she was sitting on rocked, wobbled and fell, Janet crashing down along with it. As she did, she threw out a hand to try and catch herself. Her knuckles clanged against something hard before her fingers found purchase on a handful of Corsair's clothes, grasping in a desperate attempt to keep herself from faceplanting entirely.

 

[Corsair]

"Yes, I think it's even called 'The Red' actually," Corsair said, and she was about to go and find one of the bottles when the woman accosted her! Her barmaid costume was obliterated by the powerful housewife, who managed to punch her in the stomach, tear her apron off, and knock her into the bar with such force that her maid head wear came loose, tilting on her head at an angle aptly described as 'rakish', or perhaps 'debonair'.

Corsair had been wearing a headband too, more for moisture buildup along her scalp-line than part of any uniform, but even that had been set off-kilter by the tussle. The band slipped down over her right eye, covering it like some sort of eye-patch. My, she was in dangerous waters now, with her outfit sailing full speed towards 'jaunty'.

"Arrrrrgh," Corsair groaned, one arm clutched around her stomach. "Ship!" She frowned, and made a mental note to go into her settings and turn off the profanity filter later. Corsair abhorred censorship, and the mere idea of it clouding her otherwise crystal diction was unacceptable.

 

[Janet Reilly]

Everything was adding up.

Sitting on the floor, adrenaline rushing through her from her near-fall, Janet looked up at the barwench with shock and outrage. Corsair's thin disguise was immediately falling apart, from her sudden eyepatch to her suspiciously seafaring dialogue.

Pirates in Honeyhome! Outrageous! We're not even on the coast...

"I'm onto you," Janet gasped, clinging onto the apron she'd snatched unwittingly. "What are you planning in this town? Counterfeit goods? P...pillaging?" She wasn't sure what that entailed exactly, but she assumed it was bad for business and would probably make local home values go down. Unacceptable.

Or perhaps, there was a source of treasure in Honeyhome. Somewhere inland the pirates had sought out to stow their vast, ill-begotten fortune from sailing the seas and such. This character was probably here to try and quell any rumors of the type.

I'd love it for myself, Janet thought, unbidden. It was exciting. Pirates in Honeyhome was silly, but treasure in Honeyhome made dollar-bill signs appear in Janet's eyes (or maybe they were just brussels sprouts).

She decided to bluff.

Janet drew herself up to her full, 5'2 height and held out a hand demandingly.

"If you have a treasure map, I'll see it now," she said firmly.

"I'm so glad you asked!" said the lady barkeep behind the counter, handing her a piece of weathered parchment. Janet jerked in surprise, finding the map shoved into her hands. "You must have found the crew of the Jolly Pepper. I've been holding onto this for forever, waiting for someone to come collect."

...it seemed she'd accidentally triggered a quest.

"Oh! Th-thank you," Janet said, looking pleased but startled. Her confidence wavered a little as she eyed Corsair. Bother. What am I going to do about her? If she let the poorly-disguised pirate go, she'd go running and warn all her crewmates and have the treasure moved by morning.

There was only one choice. Well, two, but Janet wasn't going to kill an NPC in cold blood, even if they were a criminal with unusually steely abs.

"You're coming with me," she decided, pulling up her palm menu and keying in a combo. She messed it up and had to re-enter it. "And—spell!"

A green seedpod fired from her open hand, bursting midair into a wiggling, crawling mass of vines and creepers. Hopefully they'd immobilize the one-eyed robot's arms so Janet could haul her out on a treasure hunt without fear of being chopped down with a cutlass or a hook or whatever 'those people' carried.

Confident in her success, Janet took one of the vines firmly in hand like a leash and walked back out of the tavern, hopefully toting Corsair along with her.