Fantasy Justice: Incarceration

Tuesday, March 2nd, 2060 — Same Day

Felorius, Unholy Alliance Territory

Sara materialized next to the fountain in the midst of Queen’s Square. This sprawling cobblestone plaza was filled with shops and booths, though there was a large open space in the vicinity of the fountain. Numerous inmates and computer-controlled characters walked here and there on errands. Most of the crowd was dressed suitably for a medieval fantasy setting, though there were signs of modern dress as well. Demons and green-skinned goblins made up a large portion of the city’s population. Fantasy Justice was massively multiplayer, with every inmate and hunter present on a single server.

Though she was still shaken from her incarceration, Sara was also fascinated to inhabit a fictional world so completely. Looming over the square to the north was the gargantuan Castle Malice. The name of the place was hopelessly cheesy in her opinion, but she had to admit that it was a sight to behold. Made entirely of black stone and surrounded by a moat the size of a river, the outer walls and towers could hold tens of thousands of defenders. The central spire of the fortress disappeared into the clouds—Sara had read that it was taller than any real world building.

At the opposite end of the plaza from the castle was a line of railway tracks leading through a trolley stop. Off in the distance to the west Sara could see three extremely long, roofed bulletins boards covered with papers. Above them were the signs Looking for Work, Looking for Guild, and Looking for Party. This last might prove useful—a party of up to five players could run dungeons. This was the standard way to gain XP, gold, and stat-enhancing gems in the game.

She also took note of the architecture. Stone, primitive concrete, and cold iron—the same fictional, dark gray metal her weapon was made out of—dominated as building materials. The windows all contained cold iron bars, and the heavy doors were made of the metal as well. High aqueducts supported by arches could be seen in the distance, with two converging on the castle. There were also numerous magical street lights, but they were dormant in the afternoon sun.

Though the temperature was mild, the sunlight felt oddly warm on Sara’s face. She remembered that this was due to her choice of the vampire player race. In the lore of Fantasy Justice, vampires were protected from dying in the sun by alchemy. However, they experienced increasing pain the more skin they exposed to daylight.

Because of this, she had designed an outfit that covered her entire body save her head and neck. She wore a long-sleeve black dress with an above-knee hemline. The dress was flared enough to avoid restricting her legs when she needed to run. It also had a plunging neckline, but she wore a white blouse beneath it. Everything else was black—gloves, opaque thigh-high stockings, underwear, and her shoes. The last were dressy-looking, but not heels. She was not about to try fighting or hiking across the virtual landscape in impractical footwear. Overall, she hoped that she looked suitably vampiric. And she seemed to be protected from any actual discomfort.

Other than her strange garb, she looked basically the same. Sara had kept her glasses. She no longer needed them—everyone had excellent eyesight in Fantasy. But she wanted to stand out in some way for the sake of attracting fans. She felt that the look of them would play up her bookish nature. The glasses still had their usual black frames, but they were made of metal and glass rather than plastic to reflect the setting’s technology. Since the glasses were defined in the game as part of her outfit, there was no danger of them falling off or breaking regardless of what happened.

Sara brought up her HUD as she had during calibration. She watched as a squad of armed and armored goblins marched past her toward the castle. She focused on one, and a nameplate soon appeared that listed him as Goblin Elite Guard. This was an NPC—a non-player character. Most NPCs were run by computer programs rather than people.

As she finished getting her bearings, Sara noticed the approach of a small crowd of rough looking men. They were all white with shaved heads. Despite garb appropriate to the middle ages, they also had various anachronistic tattoos revealing white nationalist leanings.

Even though she had just arrived, it was apparent that she had already found trouble. As the men surrounded her Sara looked to the closest one, who seemed to be the leader. She soon observed his nameplate:

Vlad the Impaler

XP 0% | I10357

Murder1, Hate Crime

Guild: White Rights (~2.3k)

Apparently, this man had used his plea bargain to abandon his real name. His low inmate number revealed that he had been in Fantasy for a long time, but his lack of XP meant that he had never killed or adventured. Murder1 was murder in the first degree.

Not surprisingly he was a vampire, with lengthened upper canine teeth to prove it. In contrast, Sara’s teeth were still normal—vampire fangs could be extended or retracted at will, but she did not yet know how to do this.

Vlad spoke in a surprisingly refined tone. “My, my. What a lovely creature.”

“If you’re trying to frighten me, don’t waste your time.” she said sternly. “I’m well aware of the PvP rules. You can’t touch me here.”

“Don’t be so harsh—I’m just hoping to make friends...Sara.” His gaze had shifted from her face for a moment to read her nameplate. “Look at you, a cop killer! Impressive for such a little lady. And you already know all the rules as well? ...But then, you slopes are always overachieving, aren’t you?” His friends laughed.

She would not to give him the satisfaction of provoking anger. “I have no interest in this conversation. Please stand aside.”

“So polite, too. I think I’m in love. We should have some fun together—no danger of mixed babies inside Fantasy.” This provoked more derisive laughter.

As she was completely encircled, Sara had no immediate way to escape from this situation. Due to the separation fields that prevented non-consensual violence, she could not even try to shove anyone out of her way. She could use the report button—this would get the attention of a Game Master. They were company employees who had the ability to teleport troublemakers some distance away when problems like this arose.

“Move before I report you.” Unfortunately, she still had to calibrate the report ability via the help button.

Before she could get started on this, a female voice behind Vlad got everyone’s attention. “You townie fucks never get tired of pestering newbies, do you?”

Sara was finally freed when some of the gang members moved to get a look at the new arrival. She did the same. Her benefactor was a striking black woman who looked to be in her late teens. She had an athletic but still trim figure, with very short black hair. The young inmate also had all the available demon features, save the red skin option. She wore a fancy red top with gold embellishments that left most of her midriff bare. The bottom was a short skirt, slit up the sides, in the same colors. Low, dark boots completed her provocative attire. Also apparent were piercings in her ears and one eyebrow.

More importantly, another nameplate soon appeared:

May Roberts

XP 0% | I1094785

Felony Murder, LEO (3)

Criminal Conspiracy

Sara considered this. The young woman had arrived in Fantasy only recently. She had no guild, raid, or party. Unfortunately, there was no context for her crime—she might be innocent, a reckless killer, or anything in between. The acronym stood for Law Enforcement Officer.

The white supremacists formed a half circle around May, though they kept further distance from her than they had from Sara. “Get lost, Nigger,” Vlad said.

May sighed. Then text appeared in Sara’s HUD. May Roberts has challenged Vlad the Impaler to a lethal contest. Contests required the consent of both parties, but unlike normal attacks they could happen within the city.

Many inmates nearby stopped to watch the confrontation unfold. Although May’s hands rested by her sides, Sara observed when she moved her fingers into loose fists. As expected, this was in preparation to summon her weapons—two bronze khopesh swords materialized. May brought one of the weapons quickly up in front of her, released it to flip once through the air, caught it effortlessly by the hilt, and then dropped into a fighting stance. Sara had to admit that the flourish was intimidating. Some of the gang members even backed off slightly.

“For the record, I don’t know that a slur is worth killing over,” May said, sounding bored. “But this is prison—I’m pretty sure the etiquette is that I have to kill you for disrespecting me. Or you can slink away, and show your degenerate friends what a gutless fucking worm you are. Your choice.” She smiled.

Vlad was seething with rage. But then the HUD supplied Sara with new information: Vlad the Impaler has declined a lethal contest. There were noises of disappointment from the potential spectators as they returned to their errands. “White Flights, at it again!” one man jeered. The fascists turned and walked away without a word.

Sara was not surprised by the outcome—such a disrespectful man could only have survived eight years in Fantasy without killing by retreating from a lot of battles. “Thank you for your help,” she said after May approached.

“Don’t mention it.” The demon player vanished her swords, crossed her arms, and watched the gang members leave with a sour expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that I had the best quip lined up for after I killed him. I was gonna look straight at his asshole friends and say, ’Get the fuck out of here, and take Vlad the Impalee with you.’” She paused and lowered her arms once more. “No good?”

“It feels a little flippant after taking a life,” Sara admitted.

May laughed. “Maybe, but that’s what the fans like. Anyway, nice to meet you.”

“You too. I hope I haven’t gotten you in any trouble.”

“With White Rights? Please. They barely PvP, and I heard they haven’t even fielded a raid team since they wiped last year. Gangs may still run the old system, but in here they’re just a relic. Most people keep to themselves—inmates like ‘Vlad’ take out their frustrations on newbies ’cause they know you haven’t learned to fight yet.

“Speaking of fighting, any plans to adventure?”

Sara nodded. “I’m hoping to heal raids.”

“Nice. I’m going damage—maybe we can work together if you’re good enough.”

“What sort of combat experience do you have?”

“I tangled with a bandit recently and sent him running—but other than that, just training. I’ve only been here a couple weeks.”

Sara knew the average daily intake of inmates into Fantasy, and quickly did some math in her head. “Given your inmate number and two weeks having passed, I guess they’re coming up on one point one million customers served,” she noted with disgust.

“Actually, the odometer just rolled over. Have a look at yourself.” May pointed at the fountain’s wide pool.

Sara turned around, finally getting a good look at the fountain. There was a large statue in the center of Queen Zaxarena, the NPC leader of the inmate faction. Streams of water from the fountain danced around her. But the new inmate instead focused on her own reflection. Her bruise was gone, of course.

After a couple seconds the HUD supplied Sara with her own nameplate:

Sara Takahashi

XP: 0% | I1100000

Murder1, LEO

Criminal Conspiracy

“Not an honor I’d hoped to achieve in life,” she noted wryly.

Sara was distracted when at the far side of the fountain a sudden, swirling wind flowed together into a glowing white humanoid figure. It resolved itself into a redheaded woman with short hair. In all the excitement, the prisoner she had met briefly on the outside had slipped Sara’s mind. “Clare! Over here.” She waved.

“Who’s that?” May asked.

“I met her briefly in the Incarceration Center. She’s hoping to tank raids,” Sara explained. She paused and continued quietly. “She came across as kind of a cold fish though.”

Clare turned, and upon seeing Sara began walking around the fountain to join the other two women. This left plenty of time to observe her nameplate:

Clare Ward

XP: 0% | I1100001

Murder2, Soldier

“She’s fucking gorgeous,” May whispered admiringly. Sara nodded. As she had been on the outside, Clare was tall, with a narrow waist and generous curves. And while Sara was fine with her own modest bust, it was difficult not to feel a little envy in that regard. Clare had a beautiful face and green eyes. Whoever had refined her character model had decided to leave in the sparse collection of freckles on her pale skin. Not even the woman’s almost perpetually grim expression, or her bland default peasant clothes could detract much from her supermodel looks.

Clare looked furious by the time she arrived. “You’re a cop killer?” she asked Sara incredulously. Her manner of speech was also as it had been on the outside—seemingly bleached of all emotions but distrust and anger. “I’m not going to waste any more time on you, or your apparently spree-killing friend here.”

“You’re one to talk,” May said irritably. “Seems you decided to not support the troops in a pretty hardcore fashion.”

“I have extenuating circumstances.”

“Sure you do.”

Clare was outraged. “Not that it’s any business of yours, but my commanding officer tried to rape me. I...I guess I snapped.” She looked briefly ashamed before continuing more forcefully. “But he deserved what he got! Doing that to a fellow soldier is a betrayal to this country. That can’t be tolerated!” Given that Sara considered the current political and economic system something to be replaced, this rabidly-delivered opinion was worrisome.

“Really?” May asked in disbelief. “Your country sold you off to be chopped up for spare parts and thrown in this sick game. And you’re spouting patriotic bullshit? What are you, some kinda idiot?”

“Let’s not—” Sara began before Clare cut her off.

“If a few innocent people get caught up in this game, that’s just the price for punishing the guilty. Don’t speak to me again—you’re not worth my time.”

Sara could hardly believe that someone would hold such a bloodthirsty opinion even to their own detriment. That level of resolve was impressive, if misguided. “Please stop!” she said to the other women. “We’re throwing away a rare opportunity here. Three teenage girls in one party would greatly increase our odds of getting a show. A show means special quests, which give incredible experience and gold—months worth of running dungeons in a few hours. They’re our best hope for being able to defend ourselves on Invasion Day.

“The politics of the outside world are irrelevant in here. And we don’t need to be friends to work together.”

“Damn it...” May said. “As much as I’d love for you to fuck off right about now, she’s right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Clare insisted. “I won’t work with cop killers.”

“For what it’s worth, I haven’t killed anyone,” Sara said.

“Ouch, such a newbie move,” May told her. “Never deny taking out a cop—it’s the best crime to have in here.”

Sara gave her a sidelong glance, and her fellow inmate smirked. “Can we be serious?” she asked before looking to Clare once more. “I was at a protest that turned violent. I thought a police officer was going to shoot my friend, so I grabbed his arm to stop him from aiming. It turned out he was trying to defend himself from a gunman I didn’t see. I had to take a plea because the evidence made me look like a co-conspirator.”

“A protest?” Clare asked suspiciously. “Between that and those silly hipster glasses, I’m guessing you’re some kind of left-wing flake?”

“I was there protesting capital punishment, not supporting any political party.” This was a lie of omission, and she felt badly about it. But Sara figured it would be better for the other woman to calm down before she admitted the truth. “And they’re not hipster glasses,” she mumbled defensively.

“Thrown into Fantasy for protesting Fantasy? Real smooth,” May teased.

“Tell me about it.”

“You were foolish to attend one of those protests,” Clare lectured Sara. “They’re frequented by anarchists and other terrorists. ...But I suppose I can live with your misguided views if it really means getting these ‘special quests.’ I’ll consider working with you if you’re any good at the game.” She looked to May. “What’s your deal then?”

“Maybe I’m innocent. Maybe I wasted three pigs just to watch ’em die. Talking about our crimes is a waste of time—none of us have any way of knowing for sure what the other two did.

“Obviously, it’s too soon to agree to form a party. But there’s no risk in training together until we decide otherwise.”

Clare briefly narrowed her eyes at May. “I’ll go along for now.”

“I can tell you’re gonna bring nothing but joy to my life.” May shook her head. “Anyway, I was on my way to buy my first spell. Why don’t you two come along—I’ll try to get you up to speed.”

The three started walking, with Sara following beside May and Clare trailing close behind them. As they left, she observed yet another inmate materializing near the fountain—but then, that happened every few minutes around the clock.

“The first thing you both need to worry about is sustenance.” May explained. “If either of you have less than a hundred gold in your inventory come this time tomorrow, your brains are gonna be so much incinerator fuel.”

“Should I go back and check that ‘Looking for Work’ board?” Clare asked.

“You can. There’s a lotta different options. There are trades that let you farm resources, or make finished goods. Even whole goddamn buildings with construction. But they require start-up gold, and wasting one of your four skill slots.

“If your pride can take an hour of waiting in line, there’s a few charities that give inmates a hundred gold a day. But raiders have most of the gold in this place, and they’re the ones hiring workers and servants on that bulletin board. And sex slaves.” She looked suggestively back at Clare.

“I’m not compromising my dignity by begging or selling my body.”

May made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t have a problem with townies unless they get cocky.” At Clare’s confused look, she continued. “Townies are inmates who never leave the capital, and hide on Invasion Day. Adventurers leave the safe areas to fight or gather resources. The best outta the adventurers who survive to max XP become raiders.

“I’ve also heard the company pays inmates gold for some work, but I don’t know the details.”

Sara had read about this. “Basically, they’ll use or contract out your labor if you have some skill they consider worthwhile. Scientists, translators, advertisers, drone pilots...almost anything that doesn’t require a body in the real world. They even use writers and actors to produce fiction based on the game lore. And of course, there’s extra gold in getting a show.

“Everything an inmate says or does is the intellectual property of FJI. And these ‘jobs’ are paid in gold, which is only usable within the game. It’s undeniably slave labor,” Sara noted, disgusted.

Clare spoke. “‘Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States.’ The 13th Amendment—you should read the Constitution.”

Sara had done so—she just held the document in no particular esteem. But she decided it would be better to hold her tongue.

“Whatever, Tits McCrazypants.” When May said this, Clare briefly crossed her arms in front of her breasts in embarrassment. In Sara’s opinion, it was the only remotely endearing thing she had yet done.

By this time, the women were leaving Queen’s Square. They walked onto the sidewalk of a street surrounded by buildings of varying heights. One inmate ahead of them summoned his horse—it glowed white before fully materializing. He mounted and rode away. Unfortunately, this ability was not available until one reached twenty-five percent experience. As they continued on, they saw more riders on horses and carriages traveling to and from the square. They also had to cross a few intersections.

“People who work for the company don’t get all that much gold,” May eventually continued. “So it’s not a perfect option.” She looked to Sara. “You seem to know a lot. I’ll bet you’ve already got an idea for work.”

Sara hesitated, feeling self-conscious. She suspected this was not going to go over well with one of her companions. “I’m planning to strip at a raiders’ club. It’s one of the most lucrative options.”

“Disgusting,” Clare said.

It took genuine effort to control her temper. But Sara kept her tone even. “It’s not something I’m looking forward to. But I think what consenting adults do sexually is their own business. And it’s important to make gold fast—Invasion Day is coming, and I’m unwilling to waste two months saving up to buy the spells I need.

“I’m willing to share the gold I make with anyone I form a party with.”

“Wait, hold on,” May said. She then actually brought the group to a halt. “This bitch just insulted you, and maybe you’re gonna give her gold?”

“Let’s avoid provoking each other,” Sara said. “I don’t need her respect, only results. If Clare has potential as a tank, how she views my work is irrelevant.”

May looked to Clare. “And let me guess—you’d never agree to work with a stripper?”

“I...I overreacted,” she admitted. The other two women shared a surprised look. “If sex work is really necessary to progress quickly...” Her face was turning red. “I could never bring myself to do that, no matter what was at stake.”

Sara was mollified by this—though she was also left wondering why a nearly adult woman was so scandalized by such a topic.

May looked less pleased. “Well, I’ve been working as courier. Basically, I visit raider mansions and ask the servants if there’s anything they need bought or delivered somewhere. It’s hit or miss—some days I make a few hundred gold, some I barely cover sustenance. You’ve gotta undercut the cost of hiring an NPC to do stuff.

“But I only work a few hours a day. The rest of my time is for combat training.

“Oh, and I tried regular questing once, but it’s bullshit. Some dead-eyed NPC asks you to collect forty bear asses, then gives you a few gold for your trouble. Dungeons are the way to go, but you need four or five to do them safely. And everyone in the party needs their spells first.”

May looked to Sara before continuing. “You know, I actually considered stripping. But I don’t think I could take a bunch of guys ogling me without losing my shit.”

“I’m not into guys, but I don’t resent them being attracted to me,” Sara explained.

“Ooh, not into guys?” Sara heard a humming sound below, and saw May’s tail wrapping around the separation field on her leg. There were also tiny flashes of light. “That’s good to know,” she said slyly.

Sara made a startled little laugh. “That tail certainly is dexterous.”

“...Who knows what trouble it could get into?”

In response Sara covered her mouth and giggled. She was intrigued at the thought.

Clare looked uncomfortable. “Takahashi, you said on the outside that I’d need a shield to tank. Should that be my first purchase?”

May gave Clare an annoyed look, and then finally led the group onward. Her tail returned to hanging passively.

Meanwhile, Sara answered. “Yes. You’ll also want plate armor—either full, half, or bikini.”

“I won’t wear a bikini.”

“You can wear it under your clothes, idiot,” May said. She sped up to get ahead of Sara, lifted her wings out of the way, and then reached behind her to pull down her top slightly and show them her armor. “Mine’s chain mail, but it’s the same idea.” She resumed walking normally and her wings folded onto her back.

Between May’s insults and Clare’s outbursts, Sara worried if this potential party really had a future. But she put that concern aside. “Despite its coverage, bikini armor protects almost as well as the two heavier versions. And it restricts your mobility much less. It’s the best choice, but only women can wear it—guys in chain mail bikinis didn’t test well with Fantasy’s core demographic.”

“We’re more like to get shows and special quests too, ’cause of higher ratings,” May added. “But favoritism leads to resentment—a few guilds ban women entirely.”

The group arrived in front of a wall-offed complex. Through the open gate, Sara could see a couple scarecrow-like dummies. “Here’s the training center,” May said. “I’ll buy my spell and practice it some. It’ll just be a few minutes.”

May went inside, but Clare lingered. Sara chose to stay with her. There was a short silence before the aspiring healer ventured to speak. “So, where are you from?”

“I don’t have any reason to tell you that.”

This made the silence much more awkward. Sara was considering looking for May after all when Clare finally spoke. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I’m not really good with people.”

Ya think? Of course, Sara would never actually say such a thing. She managed a tired but hopefully comforting smile. “I don’t think either of us is at her best. It’s been a very difficult day.”

“But you kept us from flying off the rails. I would have thrown away an opportunity to advance in the game. ...Thank you.” This last was said more quietly.

“I’m glad to help. If you don’t mind a suggestion... You got off on the wrong foot with May. An apology might smooth things over.”

Clare nodded. There was a pause before she spoke. “Alabama.” Sara looked to her in confusion. “I’m from Alabama.”

“Really? You don’t have an accent.”

“I’ve spent the last couple years trying to get rid of it. I was worried my drawl might hurt my military career.”

“It’s too bad people are so judgmental. I can sympathize—I still have to stop myself from saying ‘cah’ instead of ‘car’ sometimes,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

There was another lull before Clare spoke. “I’ve been wondering something. You said earlier that human wasn’t a good player race—but you seem to be human as well.”

“Actually, I went vampire for the mana bonus. The fangs are retractable.”

“Really?” She seemed mildly interested in this.

“Hold on, I’ll figure out how to activate them.”

After sorting through the help options on her HUD, Sara found what she was looking for. She heard the same voice from the calibration. And given that Clare did not react to it, it presumably existed only in her own head. “Imagine your upper front canine teeth growing longer.”

Sara opened her mouth and did so. Clare was startled. “That looks strange.”

She felt around with her tongue, and found the teeth were in fact longer. “Imagine your teeth returning to their natural state,” the voice said. This was also successful, and Sara now had her fangs—for whatever good they would do. As far as game-play went, it was a cosmetic feature.

May returned. “What are you two up to?”

“I’ve got my fangs.” Sara showed off by extending and retracting them.

“That should be useful for intimidation.” May grinned slightly. “Assuming you’re actually capable of intimidating anyone.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Clare spoke up. “Roberts...I apologize if I was rude earlier.” If? “I have trouble controlling my temper.”

“Someone who’s in Fantasy for murdering some asshole has anger issues. Go figure.” Sara looked to her expectantly. “Apology accepted,” May added reluctantly. “Listen, if you wanna work as a courier like me, I can show you the ropes.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And if either of you want a place to crash, I rent a room for twenty-five gold a day. The free housing isn’t a great idea—it’s just open warehouses of beds, and there’s some risk of harassment for women. Even if no one can touch you, it makes it hard to sleep.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Sara said. Clare nodded.

May gave them the address. Both the other women had to take a minute to calibrate their map controls. Sara also checked the address for the raiders’ club her lawyer had given her. She was surprised to find that it was only a five minute walk from her current location.

“The place I want to work is nearby,” Sara explained. “I’ll see you both tonight. Best of luck to you.”

“You too.” May said. “Oh, I forgot to mention—the Rough Rider guild holds free combat training in a field northeast of the city. I’ve found it really helpful. You guys should come with me tomorrow morning.

“I will,” Sara said.

Clare nodded again, and May looked to her. “Come on, we’ve gotta head back to the trolley station.”

Her fellow inmates departed. Sara was finally left with a moment to stop and think. As stressful as her arrival had been, she already had two potential allies. If she could just land this job, she would be well on her way. She pushed down her apprehension and started toward her own destination.