Danny. His hair is longer, lighter, and shaggier, and his face is blessedly smooth--in contrast to Danny’s cratered appearance. Seeing the vast differences in appearance makes it easier for my lungs to work again.
It is just a game after all.
Here’s the thing about spells in Revelations, it isn’t as simple as pressing a button. Because the game is controlled by thought, and this mission depends on placing a thought into a person’s head, spells are all cerebral. Instead of yelling “Cast Influence,” I’m going to whisper a thought into this NPC’s ear. The higher my level, the easier my suggestion will take hold. But the real art of Influence is to place a thought that isn’t entirely out of left field. I mean, I’m going to tell him to steal money from his mom’s purse--that’s probably out of left field. The art is to give him a reason to do it--a reason he might actually have. I once influenced someone to steal because I found a letter from his girlfriend saying she was pregnant. Another, I got to cheat on a test because I found she was afraid of her father--wouldn’t want to fail and risk daddy’s anger, would we?
Yeah, Revelations is kinda fucked up. But with so many changing mission types, and the ability to feel like you’re living as this powerful creature--it’s just too much to leave behind.
So what would motivate you to steal from mommy, hmm?
I take a moment to inspect the bedroom.
An overflowing pile of dirty clothes on the closet floor prevents the door from closing. There’s no telling the wall colour as every space has been covered with posters of girls, metal bands, and cars. The few gaps have been filled with pages torn out of magazines. An older PC--not even plugged in--sits on a desk that is more magazine storage than workspace.
If I really had to search every corner of the room, this mission could take hours. When your levels are low, that’s what you have to do. Thankfully I am not low leveled.
I stand in the center of the room, close my eyes, and extend my hands outward. I turn in a slow circle. My right hand begins to itch. Another step in the circle and the sensation of an invisible string pulls my right hand forward. The pulling sensation draws me to a small metal box with “Car Money” written on it. Placing my hand on the box makes its contents visible to me without having to open it. Wow, so close. Only a hundred dollars more to your goal.
Really? I give my head a scratch. If he has almost enough for a car, he has to have a job, meaning he could easily make that hundred bucks. Man, the Divining Spell has never failed me so miserably.
That’s when I catch sight of the trashcan and the crumpled paper inside. Someone sure was pissed at that poor piece of paper. I reach out for it. Ah, I see. Fired from that part time job. And just when you were so close. I take it back, my Divining Spell is the best thing I ever learned in this game.
I move to the target, leaning close to his ear.
"It isn't fair,” I say. "To be so close and then get screwed. Just one or two more shifts and that car was yours. And after you've busted your ass and saved every penny you could, do your parents understand? Do they even bother to help? You'd think after all that work the least they could do is give you a hundred bucks to make up the difference."
I stand back, let my words sink in. His mouth twists into a scowl and embers of anger spark into flames in his eyes.
"They owe you that money,” I begin again. "For all you do. You're a good kid--they could've done way worse. You watch out for your little sister, you've put in all that time at some shit job where they never appreciated you. And now you get fired--which is not your fault--and they decide to add to your punishment and deny you just a little bit of change? How dare they? How could they hurt you like that?"
I have him. I wait for the anger to fester a little longer before planting the final idea.
"Your mom always has cash in her wallet,” I whisper in a nonchalant way. “If you just took a little, she wouldn't notice. It's not stealing, you're just taking what you deserve."
A little more time. Between my maxed Influence level, and the anger I see in his eyes, I’m pretty confident I have this. Still, I don't want to push too hard--he needs to believe these thoughts are his own, otherwise he'll fight them off.
Maybe five minutes pass. I'm about to lean in for another prod when he tosses the magazine aside and stands up from the bed.
He creeps to his door, flicks off the lights, twists the knob, and eases the door open. I stay a few feet behind as he makes his way downstairs. I hope FuknDemon1 has a high enough Manipulation level to keep the parents asleep. I doubt we'll get any experience points if our target gets busted.
We're in the hall. He's reaching for his mother's purse.
My muscles tense and a chill tickles its way down my spine. In the real world, you might call it ‘someone walking over your grave.’ In Revelations, it means something else...
I draw my sword and charge toward the door. Sparks dance into the air as my amber blade clashes with the blazing white steel of an angel's sword.
She's beautiful. I mean, all angels are, it's part of the appeal. But even for an angel, her appearance is so startling I nearly falter. Her hair shines like strands of diamonds, and she has eyes that are blue like the purest lake on a calm day. Even her features are soft and gently rounded. Of course, all the attention to making her beautiful probably means she's the avatar of some forty-year-old dude who lives in his mother's basement.
She's high leveled--I know because she had her weapon drawn already. The higher your level, the more aware you are of the presence of the opposite side.
But she shouldn't be here. We both know it, but neither one of us is going to back away from the fight and risk taking a dirt nap. Losing all the experience points I've accrued since my last level-up is not going to happen.
Angel and demon missions never overlap. We only ever meet when one of us decides to wander into the other's territory--like the noob I dispatched earlier tonight. So why is she here?
I keep my eyes locked on her's, trying to anticipate her next move. It's why I see the change in her eyes. She's not looking directly at me anymore, something behind us has her distracted. Her eyes widen in panic.
"No, don’t," she cries out.
Before I can chance a turn of my head to see what the commotion is, thunder tears through the hall, accompanied by the smell of smoke, oil, and tangy iron. Something heavy falls to the ground.
The angel pushes away from me and phases out through the door. I sense her presence fading as the distance between us grows. Convinced I'm safe from further attack, I turn around.
My stomach lurches.
Our target is crumpled on the ground, a pool of blood expanding away from his body. A man, I guess his father, stands at the bottom of the stairs, his gun still raised. FuknDemon1 stands behind the father, a smug grin on his face.
"What the fuck did you do?" I scream.
"Bonus points,” he answers like I’m an idiot for not figuring it out right away.
The effects of Manipulation wear off the NPC. Horror quickly spreads across his face. He drops the gun as a strangled cry rips from his lips. Thankfully, the gun doesn't go off when it hits the ground. There’s sounds of movement upstairs, the rest of the family waken by the shot and now coming to see what the commotion is.
I launch myself through the door. My feet don’t touch ground until I’m across the street. I’m bent over, huffing each breath, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes, and the burn of acid in my throat.
A few minutes later, FuknDemon1 joins me outside.
"That was pretty wild,” he says. "You ok? Man, you look like you're gonna puke.”
"I just...” I push myself up straight and draw a deep, solid breath. “What the hell? When were you going to tell me that was part of the mission?"
He laughs. Dammit, we just manipulated a father into murdering his own son, and he laughs.
Just a game. Just a game. I'm being stupid. It's just a game. But it looked so real. The body, the pain in his father’s face...Just a g
ame. Pre-programmed actions to add realism and a sense of consequence.
"I thought I'd keep it a surprise,” he says. “C’mon, you've played the game a while, you had to know there was no way we'd get those kind of experience points from a simple fourth tier Influence mission."
He's right. There's no possible way we'd get these kind of experience points. Even now, a message flashes on my screen alerting me I have leveled-up and have new skills available. Still, what we just did...
I said before that Revelations is kind of fucked up. But I've never played to the full extent of crazy-wrong it can get. I've killed angels, sure. But they're the enemy, they're armed, and they can see me coming. Human NPCs aren't like that. Yeah, it's meant taking longer to level up, but at least I didn't feel...Oh God, it seemed so real.
"No, yeah, you're right.” I do my best to sound like it’s no big deal. “I guess I'm just tired and that angel surprised the crap out of me."
"What was that all about? I thought they couldn't mess with our missions."
I shrug.
"Don't know, don't really care. I've gotta go. See you later."
I don't wait for him to say anything more, I bring up my menu and log out. I've waited a month and a half to hit the level of Fallen Angel, and I don't even bother to check my new stats or options.
The restraints lift. I pull off the helmet and I stumble to my bed. The alarm will go off way sooner than I want. I fall asleep, the discomfort of what I've