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⬣//GROWING WILDLY OUT OF CONTROL.
September 23rd—conference day. In the hours preceding the meeting, beta testers are supplied with information on how to access the virtual conference room and offered a set of conduct guidelines. Testers are urged to read them thoroughly and instructed to sign their name on the bottom of the page to confirm that they’ve read and understand the following guidelines:
1. All questions will be addressed. Do not interrupt speakers or other beta testers when they are asking questions or having their questions answered.Players are generously allowed one hour to filter in and find their seats, review the guidelines, and discuss the questions they’ve prepared with their fellow beta testers.
2. Conduct yourself professionally and appropriately. Do not curse, shout, or otherwise engage in disruptive behavior. Violators will be muted and their speaking privileges revoked.
3. No eating or drinking. Keep your virtual space clean and free of debris.
4. Remain seated. Excessive movement or inappropriate behavior will result in restriction of your avatar’s movements.
5. PvP is disabled in the conference room. Weapons cannot be drawn and your Fragment inventory is unavailable during the duration of the conference.
One hour comes and goes. The room remains occupied only by the beta participants, CyberConnect Corporation’s flashy logo spinning idly on the conference room’s 80 inch display. Restlessness begins to settle in, idle chatter turning to frustration as one hour becomes two. Still, no one from the Corporation shows.
The conference room remains devoid of purpose, some forty-odd people sitting alone in a sterile conference room, a locked room, should anyone grow so restless they try to leave. Any attempts made to break doors and windows will fail.
The door is locked, as are the windows, the world beyond their stark white blinds a slurry of purple and black. Thunder crackles in that dark, endless void. Even if you could leave, where would you go?
It’s painfully evident after three hours of silence that no one from CyberConnect is showing up to the conference, but you knew that already, didn’t you? This mandatory meeting was fishy from the start, some would argue, while others may yet hold out hope.
That ends the instant anyone tries to log out and leave. Everyone who attempts to leave will be met with the same error Shoka was some weeks ago, but this time, the error is permanent. This time, there is no connection between mind and body anymore, and any attempt to “reach” your real self will fail.
You feel no one on the other end. You no longer feel the weight of your headset on your head or the keyboard beneath your fingertips. All your worldly aches and pains have drifted away only to find you here in your new reality, every sensation so real that Fragment no longer feels like just a game. Fragment is reality.
Three hours pass from the start of the conference. The boring white walls and rickety office chairs shudder and shake and give way to the Mac Anu everyone knows. You’re back where you started, more or less. What you do from here is up to you.
Some menus remain online. Players retain the ability to send and receive friend and party requests, access their inventories, spells, and weapons, and so on, but a few notable items are missing.
Players can no longer toggle their pain sensors on and off. Every blow you take is one you’re forced to suffer through, and what’s more, your health no longer automatically regenerates when idle. You’d better keep a stash of potions or a pocket healer handy.
While you’re at it, try not to die. The sharp-eyed among the group may notice that the respawn information nestled in the menus is no longer accessible to them. The respawn counter now reads as a series of zeros instead of the typical 20 minutes. Now is probably not the best time to continue testing Fragment’s death mechanics, but nothing’s stopping you from trying. No one’s going to save you, either.
Good luck, players. The real test has begun.
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[Simple as that, it seems.]
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Notion completely rejected.
[ Also because he doesn't think anyone values him enough to call him that and mean it. Nanashi might mean it, but it doesn't mean anything to Hien, when he doesn't feel a strong bond between them.
aka your social rank is a little too low for that right now ]
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[ Oh. He thinks he gets it now. ]
That's why it seems insincere despite your intentions.
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[Hmm...]
But you don't normally know someone when you name them, do you? Like a baby or a new pet... there's no way to know how they'll turn out.
So in that case, a name is just a wish for the future!
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I'm neither of those, so I think this time would be an exception to that situation.
[ He has nothing to say about the last part, because it sounds a little too optimistic for him. ]
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[HMMMMMMMM.]
Did you pick Harvest Cleric? Or did you have to go with that class because of work?
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[ Yeah. It's no secret, so he'll just straight up say it. ]
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Were you going to PK the players if you were an offensive class?
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[ Yeah.
Yeah................ ]
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[Scary! But also, impressive?]
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[ ... ]
There was a PvP tournament a while ago, and there was a surprise event at the end where many people were fighting against me all at once.
[ He doesn't look peeved. In fact, he makes it sound like it's a fond memory. ]
It was fun.
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[ But think of the psychological toll. ]
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[ He also critted often with staff bashing but details. ]
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[ The more you know! ]
... I should get going. I don't want more people to find me if I stay in a single place for too long.
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[ Yup. ]
Goodbye then, Nanashi.
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