Josh sighed with pleasure as the comely assistant inserted the tube and opened the valve, the jet of fluid seeming to wash his cares away along with the putrid matter. His Thursday morning enema was a highlight of the week, the perfect accompaniment to a dedicated vegan diet.
He didn't ruin the moment by looking to his right. The sight of a beached whale of a man losing the remnants of a dozen burgers was enough to disturb anyone's energy balance.
"Gotta chat to you about something Josh,' Feargus muttered, gasping as he lost half a gnawed chicken wing. "Looks like it's finally over for Black Isle. There's just no dealing with fucking Herve. I give us 6 months, end of the year at the latest."
"Goddamit," muttered Josh. "After all that work on Van Buren and the Black Hound. Guess I'll have to take that job on the online farming game after all. Guaranteed to tank but gotta pay the mortgage, right?"
"Not so fast buddy. We've got plans for a new company. You know, get the gang together again and come up with some smart name which references our rebirth. Make some cool games, no Fargo or Herve forcing us to release buggy games before they're ready. Success is a guaranteed slam dunk."
"Sure, but how are we gonna fund it? We don't have the cash. MCA's outstanding bar tabs alone are more than our combined capital."
"Leave that to me, kid. I've got a contact who's offered to bankroll us, interest-free. He just wants a small favour from you."
~~~
The tone of the tires changed as they turned onto a paved driveway. Or so Josh guessed as he sat blindfolded in the back of the SUV. He'd been picked up from the office by a couple of silent man-mountains in dark suits who refused to answer any questions, merely confirming that they were taking him to meet Feargus's contact. A high speed transfer to an executive jet and then he saw no more.
The door opened and he was helped out before someone finally removed the blindfold. He stood before an elegant mansion in tree-lined grounds, groups of suited men scattered as far as he could see. They all had earpieces and he noticed concealed holsters on those nearest to him.
The front door opened and a hand beckoned him in. He stepped into the cool interior, noting that his escorts remained outside.
"Welcome, welcome," greeted a small man with closely-cropped blonde hair. "Anything to drink? We've got all your usual favourites... prune juice, cucumber smoothie, recycled water...."
"Actually, I need something stiff to settle my nerves," replied Josh. "Make it a large cucumber smoothie."
"Fine, fine," grinned the man, showing Josh into what looked like a large study and heading for the drinks cabinet. "Take a seat and we'll get right down to business."
Another man entered the room and sat in the corner, staring at Josh with piercing dark eyes. Unlike the others he wore no suit, just a baggy sweatshirt and old jeans. He made no move to introduce himself. The blonde handed the drink to Josh and sat down facing him.
"I'm Mr Jones, welcome to our humble abode. I assume you know why you're here?"
"Well," Josh muttered, "I heard you were investing in our new firm and wanted a favour... but this shit is off the scale."
"No need to worry Mr Sawyer" chortled Jones, although the laugh never reached his eyes. "Just a few precautions to keep us from those who would take an interest in our affairs. The stakes are higher than you may expect, but your role will be simple. Something you're an expert at, something you could do in your sleep. You've heard of the Great Game?"
"It's an old term for the colonial adventures of the former great powers. But as I'm here I guess you mean that roleplaying game supposedly taking place each year... high rollers and the global elite, that sort of thing? Always thought it was just a myth, like a Dan Brown novel set in the world of pnp gaming."
"It's no myth," replied Jones, the last trace of amusement deserting his face. "It's been played since the days of Gygax. Used to take place in Berlin, alternating between the zones, a rare occasion when all sides could meet around the table: Russian hoods, Czech arms dealers, British diplomats.. even a few of us Yanks from Langley. Of course things changed once the Wall came down and it became more of an elite gambling scene. But behind the character sheets, dice and wagers the old dealmaking still takes place. And this year something big is in the works."
"So, what am I supposed to do? Spy on them? Ruin the game? Suggest we switch to fucking LARPing?"
"Now, now, Mr Sawyer. No need to get excited. We'll stake you the $10 million to take part, an agent will meet you there to handle that side of things. You just get into the game, spot the hidden alliances and deals being made. Off the table as well as on it."
Jones tapped a remote control and one of the walls turned into a high resolution display, featuring a panoramic view of a glittering marina jutting into an azure sea.
"Wow, swish resort," said Josh. "I'm guessing Mexico?"
"Close, Mr Sawyer," smiled Jones. "It's Montenegro. The setting for this year's game."
He tapped the remote again and the display switched to a series of headshots and a couple of blank boxes.
"This is who we have confirmed," he continued. "We've got Bill Gates going as usual. He's always invited, pretty much kept this thing going when the Berlin scene changed. But no ulterior motives we know of, he just loves playing an old druid he's become quite attached to."
He took out a laser pointer and indicated a man with darker, rat-like features.
"This is one of the young upstarts who founded Google, name of Sergey Brin. He'll act like a bit of a clown and chase some girls but he's one of the smartest guys in the room. We don't know where his allegiance lies. Could be Russia, could be someone we've never heard of, could be just there for a laugh. Watch out for him. Usually plays a thief, possibly dual classed."
Next he pointed to a Chinese man and a dark-browed Russian who even Josh recognised.
"Yes, that's Khodorkovsky and Hu Jintau. The real focus of your mission. We have unconfirmed reports that they're there to finalise a deal and initiate a long-term plan to destablise our economy. But Khodorkovsky only represents one power base in Russia and the Chinese haven't decided who to deal with yet. He's got the backing of most of the army and half the oligarchs, but our man Putin has the intelligence services and interior ministries as well as oligarchs like Potanin, Deripaska and Abramovich. It could still go either way. The Chinese will only finalise a deal when they can judge a man face to face, this is the perfect excuse for them to meet without arousing suspicion. You'll do your best to cast some doubts in that direction and make Khodorkovsky look untrustworthy."
"When you say Putin is 'your man'", interrupted Josh. "How do you know? Perhaps he's playing you too?"
The dark-eyed man finally stirred, snorting with derision.
"Don't worry your pretty little head about that," continued Jones. "We know him. George W has even invited him to the ranch. He's a man we can do business with."
"And finally," he continued, "These two blank boxes are the French and British representatives. The Brits will probably send some Cambridge faggot, fuck knows who the French will send. Any questions?"
Josh's mind reeled. In a matter of hours he'd gone from sorting through his inbox to discussing Russian and Chinese plots.
"Who's the DM?" was all he could think of.
"We'll leave that as our little surprise," smirked Jones. "But you'll be impressed."
~~~
Josh was escorted to a private airfield where another, larger executive jet was waiting. Bill Gates had kindly offered to fly the American entrants to the venue.
"Welcome, welcome!" squeaked Bill as Josh settled into the sumptuous seat. "Order whatever you want, I'll be in the cockpit for a bit, just helping them debug the new navigation computer."
Josh found this less comforting than was probably intended but didn't have much time to dwell on it as Sergey bounded aboard.
"Great, great," giggled Sergey as he bounced up and down in the seat opposite Josh. "Ready for some hardcore dice rolling and...."
He stopped in mid-sentence as he caught a glimpse of the stewardess.
"Check that out Josh!" he whispered excitedly. "She looks half Chinese, my favourite!"
"Hey honey," he shouted out. "Want a job at Google?"
~~~
It was the strangest few hours of Josh's life. Bill Gates recounting industry gossip when not rebooting various systems. Brin exploding with energy and arguing with everyone over mathematical problems or sporting trivia.
Finally Josh was exhausted by their antics and indulged himself with a sparkling water before pretending to fall asleep.
He was rather relieved when they both dashed off soon after landing. Bill headed to Paul Allen's yacht to gatecrash a party. Sergey disappeared with the stewardess. Josh was met by the agent, a dark-haired woman who also sported a bit of Asian blood, possibly Korean.
"The car's waiting Josh," she murmured in a sultry tone. "Good to see you're traveling light. Who knows what our getaway will be like."
"You have a name?" he enquired, lost in her liquid gaze.
"I have a designated handle for this mission," she replied. "Call me Roguey."
~~~
The hotel was the most luxurious Josh had ever seen. "So this is what it feels like to be Brian Fargo," he thought, gazing around his huge suite.
Roguey emerged from the dressing room carrying a dinner jacket and trousers.
"These should fit," she said. "I have a good eye for male body parts. We have the welcome function tonight, basically a few drinks and clarification on the rules and scheduling. I'll handle the financial side, act as if I'm your assistant and leave all that to me."
Josh admired himself in the mirror. Elegant. Pity it covered all his tattoos, though.
~~~
Sergey and Bill were already propping up the bar when Josh arrived. He nodded in greeting and left them to their argument over open source operating systems. They were soon joined by Hu Jintao and his team of bodyguards and attaches. Someone nudged Josh as he sipped his seaweed shake. He turned to face the brooding features of Khodorkovsky.
"I am Mikhail," the Russian introduced himself. "You are the Icewind Dale designer, yes? Not bad, for an American. Pity about the writing."
Josh stammered a greeting, blindsided by the the oligarch bringing up those Infinity Engine memories. His embarrassment was spared though as a gorgeous woman strode up and pecked them both on the cheeks.
"I am Laetitia Casta," she purred. "I play for France."
"Typical of the French,"whispered Roguey, when she had a moment alone with him. "Sending a clothes horse. More concerned with making the French look cool than true role playing."
"It's working," muttered Josh, watching the men gather around the perfumed vision of loveliness.
"Ladies and Gentleman," interrupted a soft German-accented voice. They all turned to face a diminutive bald figure in an understated blue suit.
"I am Helmut," he continued,"Your MC for this event. If you'll all take a seat we can go over the usual rules for the contest."
Josh's mind wandered as the MC droned on about house rules and multiclassing. Where was the British representative? They'd better not send Hugh Grant, he hated that smug bastard.
"Now it is time to announce your chosen class," said Helmut. "Ladies first perhaps?"
"I'm an elven ranger," said Laetitia. "I like ze bows and arrows. Pretty cool, like Cupid. But taller and with breasts."
"Halfling thief for me," added Sergey, trying not to stare at Laetitia's breasts. "I guess we'll go over skills and attributes with the DM tomorrow?"
"Indeed," replied Helmut. "Mr Khodorkovsky?"
"Dwarf cleric," he glared. "Tough and resourceful. I like to heal wounds and turn undead. We have many undead in Russia."
"Druid!" shouted Bill Gates, pointing to a picture of an elderly human druid accompanied by a large bear.
"Wizard, half-elf," said Hu Jintao.
All eyes turned to Josh. Should he go with his gut? Or the muscle wizard he'd longed to test out in a serious game?
"Fighter," he confirmed. "Vanilla. Human. Max int and dump strength."
A murmur went around the gathering. He'd ruffled a few feathers, taken them out of their comfort zone with his daring build.
"Barbarian," squawked an electronic voice box as Stephen Hawking wheeled up to the gathering. "Max strength and dump int. Go for the eyes Boo!"
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen," soothed Helmut as most rolled their eyes and groaned. "We have your deposits so if you'll all join us here at 9:30am tomorrow we can get the first session underway..."
"Wait a second," interrupted Khodorkovsky. "Before we put up our money we need to know who the DM will be. We've had enough Western hegemony over international institutions like the IMF, World Bank and high profile dungeon mastering."
Hu Jintao nodded, a cautious smile creasing his features as he locked eyes with the Russian.
"Of course gentlemen," replied Helmut. "I think you'll be most pleased with our choice. A man beyond reproach, bridging the divide between East and West."
An elderly robed figure entered the room and strode towards them.
"May I introduce His Holiness, the Dalai Lama."
~~~
Josh had an early night, Roguey standing guard outside his door. He had to be on form from the beginning of the session, despite the lingering threat of withdrawal from the Chinese delegation over the appointment of the Dalai Lama. Luckily a resolution had been reached when Sergey pointed out that news of the event would never spread in China, offering Google's help in that regard.
Bill Gates was already assisting Stephen Hawking with his character sheet when Josh sat down at the table. Sergey was next to join them, cracking jokes about Josh's runt of a fighter. Finally the group was complete with only 5 minutes to spare before the scheduled start.
The first two hours were spent rolling characters and debating role playing flavour. Then, after a short break for lunch, the serious business commenced.
His Holiness proved a skilful dungeon master, with a surprisingly eloquent narrative and interesting challenges for the party. He'd created a world packed with warring factions and ancient powers, with a few scattered hints of a larger plan behind the events they witnessed. After the introductory set piece and visit to a quartermaster they took on their first quest, but unfortunately soon lost Laetitia. She fell headlong into a lava pit after refusing to walk behind the thief, claiming it was a protest against male domination and gender-specific assumptions in role playing games.
"I'm all for girl power," Roguey commented later, "But you gotta pick your battles."
The rest of the quest went smoothly and Josh relaxed into his role. He became the team "face man", chatting to NPCs and figuring out puzzles in the ancient ruins. He wasn't a big damage dealer with his pitiful strength but he lucked out with a find of enchanted chain mail, light enough for him to wear and do some decent tanking. It wasn't ideal, and intelligent tactics could only get him so far, but it was hard to imagine a system where a weak fighter could have coped any better.
The mood around the table lifted as they left the completed dungeon, despite Laetitia's departure for the pool deck. The party was ready to level and had some decent loot to sell. Bill had found a bear companion for his druid. Maybe they were becoming overconfident, or His Holiness sought to balance their previous good fortune. Whatever the reason, the ambush hit them fast and hard.
Khodorkovsky's cleric was soon unconscious, a veritable pin cushion of orcish arrows. Josh was battling to hold the front line with Hawking's barbarian.
"Butt kicking for goodness!" yelped the infernal voice box.
"Shut the fuck up with that old Minsc routine you mutant!" yelled Sergey, stuggling to deal with a warg who had engaged his lightly armoured rogue. "Need some healing over here Gates, I'm getting raped!"
But Bill just shook his head, a regretful smile emerging as he considered his character sheet. "Sorry man, Grizzler has taken an arrow. As a druid I'm obliged to heal him first."
Sergey looked as if he was primed to explode as he contemplated Gates healing the bear instead of him. Hu Jintao put a calming hand on his shoulder, shaking his head and handing over the dice. The situation was saved when Sergey rolled a lucky crit, buying himself enough time to quaff a potion. Soon the battle was winding down and Gates was tending to Khodorkovsky's wounds. But the situation around the table remained tense.
"You'll pay for this Gates!" muttered Sergey. "Wait and see. Look at our projected growth rates, one day we'll eat fucking Microsoft alive!"
"Now, now gentlemen," interrupted His Holiness. "Remember that Mr Gates is roleplaying a true neutral druid, never an easy task. In fact, I'm awarding him bonus xp for his exceptional performance."
Sergey was turning from red to beetroot as Josh chose that moment to signal for a drink. He'd already gulped down some of the chilled yak milk when he glanced up at the waiter. Those familiar chunky features, that mocking smile - it couldn't be! What was Cleveland Mark Blakemore doing here?
Cleve exchanged a knowing glance with Sergey and ambled off, but the damage had been done. Josh could already feel it: light-headedness, the beginnings of tunnel-vision. He'd been poisoned!
Mumbling something about a rest break, Josh stumbled towards the lift, hearing the calm voice of His Holiness suggesting a two hour recess. Roguey dived through the doors as they were closing and supported him as they dashed to the suite. He barely remembered her laying him down on the sofa and pulling out an emergency enema kit.
"Don't worry Josh," she crooned. "I'll get that poison out of you."
~~~
Josh awoke to find Roguey lightly sucking his fingers. It felt good, despite her predatory air.
"Glad to see you made it Josh," she whispered. "Was touch and go there for a while. Funny to think that after playing Icewind Dale I just considered you a hipster with a rape fixation. But that's all changed. You'll find I can be very loyal indeed."
Josh rolled off the bed and struggled to his feet, feeling both light-headed and light of bowel. "Must get back... time...." he croaked.
"We've got 30 minutes," she replied, reaching for his medicine bag. "Any later than that and you forfeit the contest. You got something useful in here?"
"Sure," he gasped. "Got some hard stuff. Pass the bottle labeled ginseng."
~~~
Josh made it just in time, noting the surprised glance from Sergey as he took his seat. The ginseng buzz was already kicking in but he hoped the sheen of sweat on his brow was less obvious than it felt.
The break had done the group some good, the simmering resentments cooled down a touch. The morale boost from leveling was welcome too. But they would need every bit of their increased power.
The next quest took them deep underground and they were soon fighting for their lives. Waves of skeletons wore down their front line and the party was out of healing resources and desperately searching for a safe place to rest. Patrolling one flank, Josh found a hidden chamber and in a rush of blood he peered inside without waiting for the others. Perhaps he was trying to score some points with the group by being the hero who found a safe resting zone. Perhaps he was still proving that an intelligent fighter could earn his keep. Regardless, he took the chance and came face to face with a basilisk.
Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Josh desperately rolled his saving throw. But to no avail. He was now a helpless statue. And a wave of zombies and skeleton archers arrived to assail the party from all sides. One blow... one smash of a weapon and he would follow Laetitia out of the game. Curse these 'save or die' effects! His fate rested in the hands of Khodorkovsky, bearer of the only stone-to-flesh scroll the group had.
It was the moment of truth. Did Khodorkovsky consider him useful enough to keep around? A puny fighter who would be no threat to winning the contest but a potential pawn to use against the others? Or did his strategy involve whittling down the party as soon as possible? Russians were renowned as skilled chess players and Josh felt those dark eyes boring into him as Khodorkovsky considered his move.
"I come to remove the petrification," he finally announced. "But next round. First, I kill the skeleton next to me."
Josh sighed with relief. He just had to survive the round. A stray arrow pinged off the statue but luckily did no damage. Josh's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps he'd overdone the ginseng. Next, Hu Jintao finished off the basilisk with a magic missile.
"Hu's on first base!" cheered Sergey, earning a blank look in reply.
Hawking did a sterling job of holding off the enemies while Khodorkovsky restored Josh and soon the battle was won, a safe resting site as their reward. But it had been a seminal moment in Josh's relationship with permanent petrification. Never again would he view it as a fair or fun mechanic. The germ of an idea for a new, improved system began to take shape in his mind. A tough challenge, but if he could hold his own at this table then surely nothing in the world of tabletop gaming was beyond him.
~~~
Things moved quickly after that. Stephen Hawking made one reckless charge too many and his barbarian was separated from the group, bludgeoned into pieces by a crit from an ogre. Unfortunately Hawking refused to leave the table and Sergey eventually had to unplug his voice box.
Bill Gates was taken out by a vicious poisoned spike trap which Sergey had "forgotten" to check for. A smirking Sergey then decided to put the bear "out of its misery" before it became a problem for the party. There was a glint in the Dalai Lama's eye as he announced that a surprise rock fall eliminated Sergey soon afterwards.
Josh felt the atmosphere change around the table. They were on the final stretch, the end of the contest in sight. One of the three would win the huge betting pool and, more importantly, the prestige of the title. He'd truly come a long way from his forum moderating days.
The first cracks in the Sino-Russian relationship appeared as they headed for the necromancer's inner sanctum, a dispute over a powerful necklace which reduced casting times. The familiar "offensive magic vs rapid healing" debate ensued and Josh wisely stayed out of it, allowing the argument to last longer than if he'd chosen sides. Hu Jintao eventually backed off, perhaps not wishing to appear too keen for the item and risk losing face. But there were no more smiles between the two erstwhile allies.
~~~
The final battle was not going well. Malus the necromancer had summoned a horde of evil allies which tested the party to their limits. Josh was severely wounded and cut off from the others, who were comatose from a stinking cloud spell. As Josh finished off the last of the summons Malus began casting 'animate dead', most likely the final blow for the stricken group. Josh hatched a desperate scheme involving a broken lever, a grappling hook and a rusty old chandelier... and by some miracle it worked! The chandelier crashed down upon the necromancer, interrupting his spell and temporarily trapping him. A wave of elation swept through Josh, the biggest high he'd felt since managing to implement 3e for IWD2. Surely he had won both the battle and the title!
There was an opportunity for the killing blow as Malus struggled to free himself. But Josh was confident he'd done enough to come out on top and saw the chance to complete his mission objective too: Khodorkovsky had managed to crawl free from the noxious cloud and was facing a tricky decision. Josh sheathed his sword and busied himself with another absurd plan involving a burned-out torch, an old cloak and a zombie head.
"Use your dispel magic scroll!" Hu Jintao implored Khodorkovsky. "Get rid of this cloud and we can all finish him off together!"
But the Russian scented glorious victory. He thought for a while then slowly shook his head, advancing on Malus and finishing him off.
"Sorry, friend," he replied. "But the stinking cloud will soon wear off. We couldn't risk the necromancer escaping."
Hu Jintao said nothing more but his features slid into a cold mask of contempt.
~~~
The Dalai Lama requested 30 minutes to go over his notes and confer with Helmut before announcing the final results. Josh and Roguey took the opportunity to stroll down to the waterfront, not speaking much as they watched the boats come and go.
Josh's thoughts were in turmoil. Even if Langley kept the majority of the winnings he was surely in line for a hefty cut. Forget Feargus and his small time plans, he could strike out on his own and put together his dream project: a first person witch-hunting game with AAA graphics.
Perhaps he'd throw Avellone a bone and hire him for some NPC banter and combat barks.
~~~
His Holiness thanked the players and congratulated them on their efforts, reserving particular praise for those who put roleplaying ahead of straight hack and slash. Laetitia smiled as she learned she'd finished ahead of Sergey. Sergey was gracious in defeat though, perhaps consoled by the cleavage on display.
"And so we come to the final couple of players," His Holiness continued. "It was a very tough decision. I must congratulate Mr Sawyer on his quick thinking throughout the campaign and I have to admire his attempt to make a success out of an unusual build. I've awarded bonuses for his ingenious contribution to the necromancer's demise. If you're ever at a loose end in Nepal, Mr Sawyer, I'd love to invite you to one of our LARPing sessions."
Josh felt all eyes upon him and basked in the praise. Nothing could compare to this feeling, he'd scaled the Everest of roleplaying.
"But unfortunately I have to bear other measures of success in mind. As a frontline fighter Mr Sawyer had the lowest number of kills in the party and his damage output was truly pathetic. He endangered other party members by failing to adequately protect the squishy classes. Taking that into consideration, I hereby announce Mr Khodorkovsky as the winner of the contest and this year's champion!"
Cheers erupted around the table, all save Hu Jintao were clapping Mikhail on the back and praising his efforts. But Josh hardly noticed. He mumbled a "well done" while he struggled to hold it together. It was impossible, his finest hour had gone unrecognised. It had to be the system! Fucking Gygax and his flawed creation with its pigeonholed builds, he'd never forgive DnD for this. Never. One day he'd have his revenge on the system which sabotaged his moment of triumph. Perhaps he'd make a successor to a much-loved DnD title... but strip away every trace of DnD from it and laugh in the faces of those who complained.
He began to feel better as he planned the engagement mechanics, allowing Roguey to drag him from the table. Petrification would have to go too. Definitely. And mages would be nerfed into mediocrity.
~~~
Josh caught a final glimpse of Cleve as they waited for their taxi to the airport. Khodorkovsky's car swept up to the entrance and, after helping with the bags, the chauffeur turned to face them and gave a small bow. The arrogant smirk was hard to miss.
Josh wasn't surprised when, little more than three months later, Khodorkovsky was arrested and imprisoned. There had been other plots at play, things he'd barely glimpsed. And there was talk of Putin having some Neanderthal blood.
~~~
"It's not all doom and gloom," chirped Roguey, strapping herself into the economy class seat. "Just got word from the boss, he's pretty satisfied with your performance and signed off on the funding for your new company. So your future looks bright when they finally pull the plug on Black Isle. Feargus is planning a ribs and steak night to celebrate when you get back."
Josh just sighed and stared morosely out the window. He had been so close to glory. So close to rising above the mediocrity of his life. He wasn't sure what the future held but one thing was certain: he was done with Dungeons and Dragons.
), had fun reading these entries. I did put something together but was rather hesitant to post as it turned out far too long and convoluted for this sort of competition and I'm shit at editing things down. I'll leave it here for those who have a lot of time on their hands. Will hopefully come up with a punchier effort before the deadline.
I honestly appreciate this!
