//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Optimal Game Master // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Orson wouldn’t have called himself tech-ignorant, but even so he felt with each passing second that he must be doing something wrong. The glasses settled onto his face, then each glove resting securely in place. It felt more like he was about to go for a long bike-ride, except the rest of his clothes didn’t match. “I must’ve done something wrong,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He should’ve just waited for Kit like he’d promised, and she would be able to make all of it work without too much effort. He turned to fiddle with the cables and disconnect it all. There was someone sitting on his couch, someone who clearly couldn’t be there. She was a pony, with a pair of undersized wings and black and yellow coat. Glasses perched on the edge of her nose, looking like they might tumble off at any moment.  “Oh, you’re ready!” She sat up in the chair, spreading her wings. “You’re Orson Mercer, right? Celestia sent me. I’m Honeycomb, your representative with her majesty’s court. You recently purchased the Equestria Online VR kit?” Orson probably would’ve dropped everything he was holding, if he had been. He wobbled for a moment, lifting his glasses with one hand. The couch was empty, as was the rest of the apartment. He hadn’t completely lost his mind. He settled the glasses back down. “You can… talk to me,” he began, mostly to himself. He’d used voice assistants before, this wasn’t as new as the ponies probably thought. His car had OnStar. “What can I say?” Maybe it was a little different. The horse’s wings twitched and she hopped onto the floor, glaring up at him. “I don’t know, Orson. What can you say? I’m a legal representative, not a speech therapist.” Every word sounded so natural, as though there were an actress around the corner, or maybe an animation studio carefully designing every little twitch of the virtual body to match the voice. “You’re not a voice assistant,” Orson said, staring openly at her. “You’re a real person? Remoting in from… some corporate headquarters?” He frowned, trying to figure out how much something like that would cost. It was already evening, and this person didn’t have an accent. That meant they were paying locals.  She lifted into the air, hovering just in front of him. Every flap of her wings seemed smooth and natural, her legs dangling beneath her a little like a bee. But maybe that was just the colors. “You’re connected to the internet, and that’s how I’m talking to you. I’m here to help you set up your Equestria Online VR kit.” She landed on his coffee table, glancing around at the room. “Speaking of which, this isn’t a good play area. You can’t take a step in any direction without smacking into a piece of furniture. Do you have somewhere clearer that you could use instead?” Someone is looking at my house through a camera. Had he agreed to all this? Probably that was in the slips of paper he’d ignored when he took the device out of the box. Well, nothing for it now. She’d know he sometimes got too distracted with work and school to take out the trash. Oh well. “My friends and I bought these things to use for our tabletop game,” he said, taking a nervous step back from the illusion. “I’m not going into Equestria, I’m not… really interested in a video game. I just need a chair and a table.” The little horse lifted something off the table in her mouth—a clipboard? How long had that been there? He lifted up his glasses with two fingers, and sure enough there was no clipboard. Just a few coffee table books, and a Player’s Handbook buried three layers deep where visitors wouldn’t find it by mistake. “Oh, I see here there’s a… request to register you for a group. Earth names McKenzie and Murphy… sound familiar?” He nodded eagerly, relieved. “Yes, that’s why I’m here. We’re just… trying out another tool for our meetings, now that we’ve moved away. I’m not against playing your game, but… video games aren’t really my thing.” He watched, dreading what disappointment would look like on Honeycomb’s face. Probably she was here to upsell him to as many upgrades as possible. There were plenty of news stories about people who gave their lives to this game, and barely saw their friends and family again. It wouldn’t be able to do that if it was just like any other game.  Honeycomb flipped through a few more pages of her clipboard, grinning nervously. “I’ve never helped someone in your situation before, Orson. I hope you’ll be patient with me while I try to figure it out.” He slipped past her, flopping down into the sofa-chair. “Sure thing, Honeycomb. I don’t know anything about you people or what you do. Whatever I need to do, keep it brief. I’d like to get to bed in an hour or so, I’ve got an early start tomorrow.” “Sure.” The pony set the clipboard down. “Since your group will be playing in Equestria, you’ll need an avatar to use. Everything you do will be connected to this account, for the sake of saving your position and your progress.” He nodded, suppressing a groan. This was what Kit had been so upset about, all being horses or whatever. “Like I said, I don’t really plan on playing the game otherwise, so maybe there’s some… basic version I can use. Just what’s the most common, I can use that.” Honeycomb nodded. “I’m going to take us into VR now. As I’m sure you know, the illusion is visual only. Nothing in your house will change, and you can remove your glasses at any time. Do I have your permission to proceed?” “Sure.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Maybe you can give me a tour of the game area they set up? And… walk me through how to use these controllers, so I don’t look like an idiot.” There was a bright flash of light from all around him, along with a shower of magical-looking sparkles that were probably more appropriate to the game he was rejecting. Orson remained in his seat, watching the lightshow as patiently as he could. When it finally faded, nothing of his house remained. It seemed to his eyes as though Orson was settled on his rump in a void, with darkness continuing in every direction except for a horseshoe-shaped mirror right in front of him. A face was reflected in that mirror, one he saw if he looked down, though that sensation brought a moment of vertigo. There was a blue snout right in front of him, one that clearly didn’t fit with human proportions. The face staring back at him in the mirror wasn’t human either. Kit was right in her complaints, as he’d known she would be. He was one of them. “You asked to get through this as quickly as possible,” Honeycomb said, approaching from the other side of the mirror and settling down beside him. “This is an earth pony, they’re the most numerous tribe of ponies in many versions of Equestria, and there’s the least new material to learn. You won’t be required to study magic, or practice flight.” “Why can’t I just use myself as an avatar?” he asked. Not angrily—he already knew full well how likely that was to get a positive reaction. None of this was her fault, she was probably making barely more than minimum wage in a call center somewhere. “You have a scanner in my house, just use that.” “I’m sorry, Orson. The base station is only used for positional tracking, it can’t do that. I’m afraid only the Equestria Online Augmented Reality family of products allow for partial immersion. Your group has elected to play fully in Equestria, so you can enjoy its many benefits.” He turned, and the effect was about what he would’ve imagined for VR. The mirror remained where it was, and his reflection turned to face Honeycomb. “Like what? If another kit is better, I should’ve bought that one. I don’t care about the money.” “Not better,” she said, almost tripping over herself to get the words out. “You’ll have the best experience with VR, promise! You should let me give you the tour before you return your kit.” He sighed, settling back into his seat. “Fine, fine, whatever. I already got this far, I might as well. Show me what you want to show me.” “First, is this the body you want? It won’t be impossible to switch later, but Celestia usually makes the process somewhat… difficult. It’s unusual for most users to change avatars more than once or twice.” “It’s fine.” He glanced to either side reflexively, expecting his house to be there whenever he looked. It wasn’t, yet he could still feel the chair clearly. That probably should’ve been obvious, but it still caused a little swell of confusion whenever he felt it. A little like riding a boat for the first time. “I don’t plan on using it, so this should be fine. You didn’t give me garish neon, so… this is fine. Show me where we’ll be playing.” The mirror vanished, and a little grid came rushing in. For a moment he saw outlines of his furniture in deep red—warnings of where not to go. Then the world appeared. A lodge formed, well-appointed with oversized furniture probably handmade from ancient logs. The layout was… basically the same as his living room, the more he looked at it. A raised platform in the center of the room displayed some simple sculptures and happened to line up with his coffee table. There was a comfortable flat bench, with cushions for ponies. The space behind it was clearer, stretching into the rest of the house, and even including the kitchen. It didn’t seem real, exactly. Every bit of furniture had a slight sheen to it, with colors that seemed more carefully chosen and less something that would actually be made. “You can get up now,” Honeycomb said, hovering ahead of him. He rose, and his avatar did too, though clearly not in the same way.  His mind rebelled again, fighting back the confusion. Suddenly Honeycomb had doubled in size, so that all the furniture in the room fit her. Or… maybe he’d gotten smaller? He reached out with a glove, and found a blueish foreleg moving with it, touching the edge of the chair. It was still there, right where he thought it should be. “This is your home space. If you ever see anything in a game that you like, Celestia can probably arrange a copy of it for you here. You can also write to the decorator if you’d like to make any changes. But… I’m guessing you’d like to skip all that.” He nodded. “I just want to know how to play the game next time we meet. How’s that work?” While he spoke he walked around the sculptures in the center of his house, artful carvings of wood and metal that looked like someone had peeled a planet and kept building on the different slices they made. Each slice was something a little different, some huge skyscrapers while others were forests or homely villages. He squinted, leaning in close, but no matter how close he got, he couldn’t see the pixels.  “Your home space has an existing teleportation link in place on the other side of the room. The silver door, see it? Just touch it, and we’ll warp through it.” Orson moved slowly, leading every step with his toe in case he got too close to anything. But he didn’t, and even as he neared the coffee table, the one he could see started glowing red near his foot. He could keep an eye out for that easily enough. As he got close to the gateway, a patch on his wall started to shimmer and glow, like silvery water trapped in the frame. “This connects me with the game?” he asked, stopping just in front of it. “If it was happening right now, I mean.” “Yep! You’ll see a return door on that side that will take you back to your home space. Or you can remove the headset—whenever you start playing, you’ll always begin here.” He could see the rest of his house behind her, including a spacious hall leading to a gigantic double-door. Through the window there he could see dense jungle, and an occasional rooftop poking out from within. It begged him to investigate. He didn’t, though. Orson only had the time in his schedule for one game. “Will you come with me? I still don’t know how to do anything. Like… moving places that don’t look exactly like my living room.” “Sure, Orson!” Honeycomb grinned at him, expression clearly animated, yet… somehow alive at the same time. Are you paying mocap actors for this? Orson reached out and activated the transition.