GAME WORLDS CHALLENGES

[Maharg67]

NOTES AND BACKGROUND INFORMATION

 

Sanctuary Centrolis and the Gaming Arenas, Centropolis, Gametropolis, the Sanctuary Lands etc.

 

Bigtropolis.

Docklands.

 

 

 

Editing and Additions to Come!

 

Thread closed by author's request. DarkeWolf.

Edited September 24, 2011 by DarkeWolf

[Maharg67]

0001

BLAKE BLADESTONE

SEEKING NO TROUBLE

 

My father used to say that if you never went looking for trouble, then trouble never came looking for you. He had lots of supposedly wise sayings like that he would never cease to throw at us, his children, after he came home from working at the Shangrasta #5 Organic Vats Complex. Dead bodies were taken from the funeral centres or from the morgues to be dumped into the organic vats for recycling. The small of those vats was sickening and clung to the workers despite them getting extra rations for end of work showers, soap spray and keeping work clothes at work. The combination of the dulled stink of the vats and the 'wise sayings' were impressions of my father that would remain with me for the rest of my life. The human bodies were not recycled directly as food to feed other humans or at least that was officially denied by the government and three big quasigovernment corporations.

 

That saying was his favourite which it made it even more ironic that he was gunned down in a gangster fight while waiting quietly at a public transit bus stop. After that our family could have been in big trouble what with slowly but steadily increasing shortages, rations and basic expenses. But then came my tenth birthday, I was tested and it turned out that I was a remarkably high candidate for the games. Yep, I could meld with the ancient alien mechanisms, the ancient alien games that brought benefits to the players and to the people but which were dangerous to the players.

 

Not being stupid, I did not desire to be a player but I was not very close to my mother or my sisters and had not gotten on well with my father at all. Still I was kind of fond of them. I think my mother kind of almost shed a tear when they came and took me away; my sisters just looked bored. So there it was, the end of my life with my family. I was never to see any of them ever again. I wish that things might have been different, sometimes, but have never really missed any of them.

 

I sat in the back of the electric bus as it made its way along a rough stone road through the city I had been born in and was probably never going to see again. It was a city cut out of metallic stone walls by the ancient aliens and added to by human prefabricated structures. It was in a vast suncavern lit and warmed by suncrystal formations fused into the great ceiling above the permanent cloudsky. When humans had first arrived at the suncaverns, many had assumed that above the cloudsky was open sky, that they were in huge valleys or basins of land. Scientists were able to prove that it was otherwise but not before at least one expensive rocket was launched to oblivion and with wreckage showering down on parts of the lands.

 

On my lap was my duffel-bag with my few possessions. They were some few clothes to change into, some basic shoes as versus the boots that I wore, some toiletries, a couple of books and some other items including a couple of collectables that I favoured very much. The guy who sat on one side of my slimly muscular self was plump, nervous and wore thick glasses. Such things did not really matter in a high quality player. Anyway the fat would soon be burned off, the eye sight not only improved but enhanced. This one was no trouble at all.

 

But the other guy was a big fatty muscular guy who grinned at me, thinking himself tougher than he was. He spoke with a Docklander's accent, thick and heavy of those who lived and worked close to or in the big harbour where the huge river canal flowed past the city. "Give me your money and your good stuff or I will crack you one."

 

Seconds later my elbow struck him in the side and he doubled up with a groan of pain. Stupidly he went on to try to cause more trouble and then he was lying back, unconscious. Luckily I was at the very back and only the plump dude saw what happened and he seemed happy not to say anything. I smiled at him reassuringly and gave him a cheap toffee. It was the start of an interesting friendship. As for the stupid Docklander, well that is another story.

 

 

 

 

Edited August 28, 2011 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

0002

BLAKE BLADESTONE

SEEING TROUBLE

 

The riot was a noisy one, a violent one, with people hurling stones at the heavily body-armored Riot Police with their stun-spears, long-batons, shields, visor-helmets and tubeguns that could fire punch-bullets, small gas-shells or rubber-bullets. Though they were not officially allowed to do so, sometimes the Riot Police used their tubeguns to fire 12-gauge shotgun shells but apparently not on that occasion because my hearing was very keen and I heard no such noises. Desperation drove the people to rioting and a mixture of corruption, stupidity and autocracy caused the government to react only with increasing force and the use of the dreaded secret police. The electric bus shook but neither the mob or the basher cops seemed inclined to attack the bus; players were popular because the games were popular as was gambling on the games and the cableTV shows based on the games.

 

Bigtropolis was a damned big city cut out of stone except large areas of prefabricated, stone-block and other buildings. People had been rejuved-regened when they had come to the Underworld through ancient alien gateways and people lived to be older there than on the Lost Earth also known as Terra or Sol III. So they could compare Bigtropolis with even biggest supercities of the Lost Earth and Bigtropolis was far larger than the biggest of them. Bigtropolis had a population of about 350,000,000 people though not all of those people were humans; the great majority of them were human.

 

Despite the riot I could see a great cityscape stretching out and below me, into the distance. We were on the outer bend of a winding road that went down a stone slope. The slope was surprisingly gentle for such city features and every so often a rioter would go sliding and-or tumbling down it to end up at the distant bottom in a green garden park. Unfortunately for them some Civil Police were waiting patiently to pick any of them up and to cart them off in blue electric vans.

 

I didn't like riots or rioters much but I hated the way they were forced to riot and how the government treated them.

 

In the distance rose one of the biggest of the known ancient alien artifacts. It was a vast metallic cylinder that was almost exactly five and a half kilometres wide while reaching all the way to the ceiling above the cloudsky, that was itself about ten kilometres above the common ground level of the great suncavern. The games were not linked with that for humans were not even able to approach it. Strange, powerful but gentle forces always stopped people getting too close to it, let alone in through any of the huge openings dotting its surfaces.

 

In the distance flew a formation of Dominion Air Force jet-fighters. Maybe they were on their way to attack rebel positions in the Ironstar Hills or perhaps out to deal with rogue dragons raiding from across the border with the great flying dinosaur people. Most likely, though, they were either on a training run or a typical patrol. The Dominion Defense Force had only a few squadrons of jets; mostly it had to rely on prop driven aircraft; the Army was even worse off than the Air Force and the Navy was something of a bad joke. Problem was, the rebels were even more badly equipped.

 

The fatty muscular guy stirred awake and I gave him a cheap toffee. He got the idea and caused no more trouble after that, at least not for me. After we left the bus I lost sight of him and never met him again; later I was to learn he was shot dead by game training officers for the crimes of thuggery, mugging and theft from the storerooms. Truth was I was so busy surviving that I had little time to concern myself about his fate. The guy with the glasses, Arnold, well he was a different matter. I protected him as much as possible.

 

Soon we were moving away from the riot, were going down a winding back and forth pattern down the side of the great slope. Overhead the permanent cloudsky broiled white and translucent, glowing and fluffy, as the day grew steadily hotter and brighter.

Edited August 29, 2011 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

0003

BLAKE BLADESTONE

LIFE IS A GAS

 

I have a confession to make. I did not grow up as Blake Bladestone. My name used to be Bruce Eggle but that name is hardly good as the one of a great fighting gamer, a tough challenger of ancient alien challenges. No I would be Blake Bladestone and poor old Bruce Eggle would become only a set of memories and a couple of favoured mementos.

 

The electric bus let us off as one group at a city transit monorail station. Then we were moved to a special carriage unlike the typical public transit type. It was armoured, locked and secured. The monorail locomotive did not seem to have any normal carriages to pull and it seemed to be oddly armed and armoured itself.

 

I noticed a smoothly elegant droid moving along nearest the station platform on a hoverpad so that it hovered just above the floor. It was of the huge quasigovernment corporation known as TechnoPlus that specialized in the research, development, manufacturing and maintenance of hitech. Except that droids did not come from any TechnoPlus factory but were prizes gained by the ancient alien games as run by another quasigovernment corporation, GamesNgoods. GamesNgoods also did other things for a profit but the Games were its monopoly, its specialization, its money tree. TechnoPlus made its own robots but they were big and clumsy compared to the droids. ResourcesPrime was the other quasigovernment corporation.

 

Not that I had any real respect for any three of the huge quasigovernment corporations. Like the Dominion Government itself, they were mostly out for their own power, profit and influence. Their overwhelming corruption, brutality and short sighted greed had turned many people against them including elements of government. But they not only had great influence in the Presidium, they pretty much ran the Presidium.

 

At the age of ten I sat in a crowded, sweaty, poorly air-conditioned cabin of the monorail carriage and wished that I had some water. I had drunk the last of my lukewarm water as given to me by mother.

 

I was wondering if I should try to chat up the slightly older female in her overalls, and pigtails, when I 'sensed' something wrong. Then the chamber was filling very quickly with an almost invisible gas shooting out of small jet points opening in the walls and ceiling. Young people did not collapse but just lay down where they could, taken by sudden exhaustion and dizziness. I was the very last to go down to the floor and, turning to a camera high at one ceiling, I gave it the finger. Then I was joining the others, was laying down next to Arnold and the girl with the pigtails. I did not know it at the time but that girl was going to be both good and bad for me and that one day I was going to kill her.

 

Edited August 30, 2011 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

0004

BLAKE BLADESTONE

WAKING AFTER A LONG LONG LIVING NIGHTMARE

 

Blood, agony, dizziness and nausea! I awoke to full aware, to full self awareness, as I lay on a hard stone floor of a big metallic stone cavern chamber. It was semi-open with a big opening to o great sweeping plain of desolation. I turned my head to get a better look and saw in the distance a broken cityscape of skyscrapers, domes, raised monorails and other structures. Familiar and yet not familiar! The DC Wastelands! That was Washington DC. I was in battle power armour and next to me lay a heavy autorifle, a 12.7mm HAR with a special scope, extended magazines and a doubleshot 30mm grenadeshell launcher.

 

Stella was gone. She and the others mindcapped had been drawn back to another Games Zone. Other players were dead and scattered. Other bodies were fake but amazingly realistic. The departed players who had officially died, they were represented by the fake bodies.

 

Some very small black ants trailed across the metallic stone floor, proving yet again that not all ants were giant on that world. Actually the so called giant ants were quasi-insects because real insects could never sustain being that large. Quasi-insects had skeletons along with exoskeletons and additions of such as special lung organs. Such was interesting but to me, at that moment, survival was even more interesting to me.

 

Had to hand it to Stella. She had become frightened and had betrayed me to the alien GameLords out of concern for her own survival. Oddly enough this came as no real surprise to me. Stella was that kind of girl. Except she was now a woman as I was now a young man. She still favoured pigtails. Arnold no longer wore glasses. He had vanished years ago, escaping from the mindcaps in a way I had failed to do at the time. Supposedly he was out in the DC Wastelands somewhere.

 

No more mindcap gripped my skull. My scalp was hairless. I slowly sat up, my dizziness, nausea and pain fading. A stimpak shot, a gulping down of some pills and wiping away of blood from my scalp caused me to feel some what better.

 

Memories were fragmented, blurred and much of it was nightmarish.

 

I spat some blood out of my mouth, washed some more out with a gulp of water from my canteen and then spat that out. After that I drank the last of the purified water from the same one litre canteen. Standing there with my special power armour backpack on, I held the HAR and wondered just what I would both looting, where I would go, now that I was a rogue player. The alien GameLords were limited in what they could do because they were not the ancient aliens who had created the ancient MultipleMatrix that the games needed to exist. No, the GameLords were just parasites. They would send so called player-hunters after me, dangerous and treacherous. If that failed, then worse would be sent after me.

 

It was daytime, it was hot, it was bright but growing slowly, steadily cooler and dimmer. I ate one MRE, an okay military ration pack called a Meal Ready to Eat. I took equipment and supplies from the bodies, got an eyebot up and running with its under belly fanjets lifting it up to hover and even slung a missile quadlauncher over one shoulder. Of course I had other weapons and the suit had a forearm pulselaser and a forearm pulseblaster.

 

I had to get going and closest to me was the settlement of RivetCity of the DC Commonwealth.

 

With my power armour helmet on, I was soon moving steadily through the DC Wastelands. Around me stretched broken and damaged shopping complexes, apartment stacks, condo towers, art galleries, office blocks, geodomes, the ruined remains of vehicles and other machines and big, deactivated advertising 3Dsighns. I had to get access to my player database but thought that impossible, assuming that I no longer had my player-assistant to 'assist me'.

 

Which was when it spoke to me.

 

= "Hello old boy, did you think you would get rid of me that easily? Not so lucky! Surprisingly enough you have made no real losses thanks to your bid for freedom. You remain at a Level of 13.56. You have Abilities, Skills and Exotics as you used to. The old quests are gone but, do not ask me how or why, you have some new ones. Also some pleasant surprises of bonuses. Somebody really does like you, killer boy, though I am not sure why. Still, I love ya."

 

I sighed for not only did I still have a player-assistant but Doogle had not changed at all.

Edited August 30, 2011 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

For the moment have no constant access to the internet but this will change soon.

 

New basic feedback idea.

 

:thumbsup: = okay

 

:thumbsup: :thumbsup: = good

 

:thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: = very good

[frakle]

For the moment have no constant access to the internet but this will change soon.

 

New basic feedback idea.

 

:thumbsup: = okay

 

:thumbsup: :thumbsup: = good

 

:thumbsup: :thumbsup: :thumbsup: = very good

 

:thumbsup: :thumbsup:

[Maharg67]

Thanks for the positive feedback, frakle. Always grateful for such. :thumbsup: :dance: :yes:

 

I AM BACK ON THE INTERNET!!!

Edited September 14, 2011 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

0005

BLAKE BLADESTONE

GOING TO RIVETCITY: THE BOOK SHOP; GANGERS AND RAIDERS HAVING A PARTY

 

I had been in the DC Wastelands before, had worked them, survived them, done quests of various kinds in them. Still the cityscape was depressive and dangerous even for somebody like me. I wondered what my first quest was.

 

="Baseline on going quests of gathering PreDoomsday valuables and providing them to various causes to gain karmic points that also means special credit and allowance additions for you. You have done this sort of thing before but now you are operating away from the GameLords and they will not like it. First Ever Quest is to gather up books, holotapes, audiotapes, journals, bits of technologies and anything else to assist the RivetCity Research and Development Centre progress with old research and development projects. Perhaps you could even help them to start new ones. Limited modding only is allowed of the gamescape and this will be regulated by your new patron."

 

What drew me was a small bookshop with its armaglass windows still surprisingly intact. Getting passed its old electronic locks was easy enough and inside was stuffy, dusty, grimy and the paper types books were a mess. The plasticback books were still in good condition. Anyway I had a basic mod for the ruined and partly ruined books. I took out the grey metal box and squeezed into it five large and a small promising looking damaged books. This box went back into the modded backpack that was bigger inside than outside and which could carry a surprisingly large amount of weight while being relatively light to lift. The rejuvenation-box would, after some hours, bring the books back to new condition. I put a few chosen books into the backpack but not just for the scientists. I took some for myself such as some writings by Edgar Allan Poe and Tolkien, a map-book of the city and a fantasy art book depicting artwork such as that of Captain Cosmos and Grognak the Barbarian.

 

I picked up some PreDD cash in the form of notes and coins. Then I found some stimpaks, a med-X and holotape in a floor safe next to the skeletal remains of the shop owner manager. Under the counter was also a pump-action shotgun, twelve gauge, with a box of ten shotguns shells, some pencils, an instant-camera and some special film-packs for the camera.

 

But as I went on looking around for more valuable items, I 'sensed' danger and crouched quietly where I was. Soon I was hearing the muffled noises of gunfire, of smaller explosions such as detonating grenades or rocket-grenades. The area had gangers but they were normally at peace with each other. No, I got the 'sense' that this was a battle between very territorial gangers and dangerous outsiders of some kind. That is the kind of outsiders who would not make an agreement of some type with the gangers to pass through the area peacefully.

 

="Special Ever Quest and its a doozy. Resurrection Program has begun. I could only call this super modding. Wow, just touch a dead body and... well you will have to see what happens. Also first Step Quest: get to RivetCity and you will earn a bonus of 1,000 of items-credit, support-credit and modding-credit. Not much over all but good to start with."

 

Three raiders in garish black armour raced past the dirty armaglass windows with enhanced speed. Wastelanders often mistook these special abilities as drug induced but they were not. Real raiders, discounting the would be raiders, were genetically engineered clones gone berserker insane but in a cunning, sometimes brilliant manner. In contrast gangers were typical damned tough Wastelanders having survived terrible conditions. The raiders were stronger, faster but the gangers knew the territory better and had a powerful territorial drive to push them.

 

The ganger limped into the bookshop, a tough young woman, and she scowled at me. "Damned it, another p*** head intruder."

 

I lifted up the pump-action shotgun. "My offer consists of this shotgun, some shotgun shells and my assistance against the raiders. I have power armour and a heavy assault rifle."

 

The patchwork skin coloured woman, a sign of wild mutation, shrugged as if it meant nothing but she was wary of me. That was understandable. I passed her the shotgun and box of shells. She quickly took up the weapon, clearly having lost her own, and loaded it. Then she grinned. "You found the gun in our territory."

 

I snorted. "Yes but you know the rules. If you are unable to find good loot in your territory, then I have a chance to gain it as long as I am willing to make agreement with you. Still, it is a good condition, good quality shotgun and those shells are in good condition, being man killers. I suggest we get moving. I 'sense' three raiders sneaking up on us. They must have been stalking you and saw you come into the bookshop."

 

She scowled. "What are you?"

 

It was a good question. My response was straight forward. "Deathstalker. Genetically engineered super-soldier. Doomsday survivor. On my way to RivetCity. Time to kill some raiders. They are berserker clones."

 

"Don't care what they are just as long as I get to kill them." She scowled and peered carefully out through the windows. "They have to come through the front."

 

I shook my head. "Which is why the last place they will come through is the front."

[frakle]

this is really neat and creative, but i really truly do not know what's going on. like, is this in DC? im kind of confused