Words, Games, and Giant Spiders
Wordplay lounged on his bed, absentmindedly tickling the tip of his nose with the feathery end of his quill. His journal lay before him, the pages darkened by prose, furiously scratched-out words, and the occasional accidental black mark from dripping ink.
Alright, my protagonist has the magical artifact, and he’s on a quest to take it home with his best friend. But what about all these other characters? I can’t just leave them hanging!
For the first time in almost an hour, he looked away from his journal and towards the outside. Through half-closed blinds, he could just make out the steep ridges and snowy peaks of the Crystal Mountains, far in the north, glittering against the setting sun.
“Aha!” he cried out, the quill furiously scratching against the beige pages of the journal under the direction of Wordplay’s magic. “Mountains! Of course! Everypony loves mountain cities. No, no, not a city,” his exuberance just as suddenly dashed as it was created moments ago. “Mountain cities. So overdone. What about…what abo-o-out…”
“What about a stronghold?” came a voice from the bedroom door.
Wordplay threw his journal closed and leaped off his bed in one swift motion. “Road Map! Don’t…don’t scare me like that.” His heart thudding in his chest, Wordplay crossed the room to confront his older brother at the threshold to his domain. “What do you want?”
Road Map snickered. “Well, I heard you mumbling to yourself and thought you might need a little assistance. When I get in a creative rut, I find it helps to talk it out with somepony else.”
Wordplay was half-inclined to shoo his brother away and lock the door to prevent further intrusion, but decided against this idea—after all, two brains were better than one, right?
“So, walk me through it. What’s going on?” Road Map gently pushed himself past Wordplay, who went back to sit on his bed.
“Well,” Wordplay began, levitating his journal before him. “I have these two characters. They’re going off on this big quest that involves a magical ring, and that’s all fine, I guess. But they just left all of these other characters and I’m not really sure what they should be doing right now.”
Road Map sat on the floor, looking contemplatively around the room. “Hmm. I suppose this other band could have their own adventure? I know that Fair Dice likes to keep all of her players occupied with an adventure, even if they’re separated.”
At the mention of his younger sister, Wordplay began thinking of her retelling her previous campaigns in those tabletop role-playing games she loved so much—how her besieged players held out against a seemingly never-ending onslaught of horrendous monsters. Yes, that was it!
“Got it!” Wordplay exclaimed, once again levitating book and quill. “They have to go to this mountain stronghold,” (at this he waggled his eyebrows to his brother), “and help defend it against a horde of orcs. And then, when all hope seems lost, bam! Deus ex machina to the rescue!” He scribbled furiously in the journal, but as he wrote line after line, the quill began slowly its fervent speed until it had all but stopped. Wordplay looked blankly at his brother. “This is going to be at least another journal’s worth of story. No, two at the very least. And it’s taken me so long to get this far in the first journal...how...how can I ever hope to finish this?”
Road Map had seen this side of his brother before: despondent at the idea of a large, long-term project. “Look, Wordy, I know that this seems like a lot of work, but think about it! Fair Dice and I have had games that have gone on for months. Months! Surely you alone can finish a story?”
There was that word. Alone.
Wordplay gently placed the quill and journal on his bedside table. “Maybe. I…I don’t know. I’ll just look at it tomorrow, I guess.”
Road Map knew better than to accost his brother when he got mopey. Mopey meant irritable, and the last thing Wordplay needed now was somepony getting in his face. “Okay, I understand. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” Road Map retreated from the room, his eyes never leaving his little brother. As he entered the hallway, he quickly poked his head back in. “Oh, just out of curiosity: what’s the name of that story?”
Wordplay had already tucked himself into bed, facing the wall away from the door. “I was thinking The Lord of the Horseshoes,” he mumbled.
“Lord of the Horseshoes, huh? Sounds interesting.” And with that simple statement, the door was closed and Wordplay was alone.
He sat there for some time, his mind reeling with the story that he had already lost faith in. “What am I thinking? Three books? And Lord of the Horseshoes? Seriously?” He scoffed, turning over to face his journal. “What a dumb name for a book. Nopony would ever want to read that.”
oOo
Wordplay woke up the next day to the soft glow of morning invading his room. Groaning, he rolled away from the window, blinking the crust of sleep away from his eyes. He feebly reached for his bedside table—he had dreamt the most wonderful dream of his mountain stronghold, and intended to begin writing the next chapter of his story before his thoughts left him. Maybe, just maybe, the story could be salvaged. His hoof met with well-worn wood.
Sitting upright at a speed that would amaze most athletes, Wordplay looked with alarm at his bedside table. His journal was missing, quill and all.
“Ah! Ah!” he yelled, tumbling in a chaotic mess of sheets and pony out of bed. “Story! Gone! Help!”
A stern, older voice soaked through the closed bedroom door. “Wordplay, don’t yell! Now come down and fill that big mouth with some breakfast. It’s almost nine!”
How could his father be so relaxed during a crisis like this? “Dad, help! Somepony broke into my room last night and stole my stuff! Call the police, call Princess Celestia, call somepony!”
Not taking time to remove the sheet, Wordplay fell into the hallway, careening against the walls, on his mad dash to breakfast. He narrowly avoided tripping twice before stumbling into the dining room. Seated around the dining room table were Road Map, Fair Dice, and their parents. His father levitated a piece of toast to his mouth, gingerly taking a bite. His eyes never left the table. In fact, everypony seemed to be looking rather intently at one spot on the table.
Wordplay abandoned his sheet, taking his spot at the table. “Has anypony seen—” was all he got out before his voice caught in his throat. There, sitting on the table, was his journal, opened and subject to scrutinizing eyes. With a cry of distress, Wordplay snatched the book away from its spot between his parents’ plates.
“Hey there, son, we were reading that!” his father said with a scowl. “It was just getting interesting, too. Never pegged myself as a fantasy sort of reader, to be honest.”
At this, Wordplay could only fume at his older brother. “Road Map, would you please explain to me why you thought you needed to steal my journal and let everypony and their dog read it?” His eyes never left the nervous visage of his brother.
Road Map chuckled. “Well, I was thinking about our conversation last night, and you seemed pretty bummed about your story. I wanted mom and dad and Fair Dice to read it so that they could see how good of a writer you are!” He held up a hoof when Wordplay began to argue back. “And before you ask, I know that you’re a good writer since I’ve read part of this particular story a few days ago.”
Before Wordplay could formulate his sputtering half-words into a response, Fair Dice interjected. “Yeah, bro! I knew you liked doodling in those books, but I never thought you could write this well! Ever think about writing Ogres and Oubliettes adventures? I could definitely use some new stories to entertain my players…”
Wordplay, overcoming the shock of his brother’s deception, turned to his mother. “Can you please tell everypony to stop reading my stuff? I don’t like it!”
At this his mother laughed the quiet little laugh that a knowing parent might use on a child. “Oh, my little Wordy! Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea. Not writing about cockatrices and castles, perhaps, but publishing your work! Isn’t that what writers do?”
Sullenly, Wordplay lowered his head. “Not this writer. There’s no way I could ever write as well as the big shots. I mean, even the other amateurs online—they all blow me out of the water. I can’t get description right, and don’t even get me started on characterization!”
His father stopped, another bite of toast halfway between plate and mouth. “Son, you can’t worry about the others. You aren’t everypony else. You’re you and you have your own story to tell. That’s what people want to read.”
Of course his parents wouldn’t understand. Wordplay’s best, no matter how hard he tried, still wasn’t good enough to him. There was always that pinnacle of storytelling, that elusive perfect plot, that continued to elude him. And years of failed stories and crumpled papers had only served to solidify this belief.
Grumbling, Wordplay levitated his journal by his side and retired to his room. His family knew the look of consternation on his face and what it meant: don’t bother me.
oOo
It was many hours later that a knock on the door pulled Wordplay from his place of deep concentration. With an annoyed huff, Wordplay let his quill fall to the table and walked over to the door. He yanked it open to find Fair Dice standing on the other side bearing a sheepish smile.
“Hey, Wordy. I know you’re probably super busy and stuff, but I was just wondering if…I dunno, you wanted to join me and my friends for a little roleplaying game? I just got a new Ogres and Oubliettes sourcebook and thought you might be interested.” She punctuated her statement by shaking the book levitating by her side. The cover depicted a group of ponies valiantly defending a glowing portal against a mass of monstrous tentacles.
Wordplay gave his sister a deadpan look. “Yeah, no. I have much more important things to do than play make-believe.”
As Wordplay returned to the comfort of his bed—the best place to write, in his opinion—Fair Dice cautiously entered the room behind him. “C’mon, my naïve twin brother, isn’t make-believe what you do anyway? You just sit in your room all day and write in those silly books; why not join us for just one game! Please, for me?” she pleaded, pouting profusely.
Wordplay, having just sat down, huffed again in exasperation as he hopped back off the bed. “You’re lucky I like you so much, oh sister of mine.” She beamed at this, quickly nuzzling his cheek before they left the room together.
“Trust me, Wordy. You’ll have fun! I promise.”
oooOOOooo
The group of Ogres and Oubliettes players that Fair Dice had amassed consisted of many faces that Wordplay found vaguely familiar—at some point he would have to pull out old yearbooks and see if he had attended the same school as anypony present.
When Fair Dice and Wordplay entered the family room where the game would be played, the two other players were already seated around the flimsy card table set up for the occasion. Fair Dice introduced her brother to her friends, but he had trouble concentrating on her words once he noticed that both of them were staring awkwardly at him.
Fair Dice’s awkward cough managed to draw everypony’s attention back to her. “Uh, guys? Don’t look at him so oddly. He’s just gonna be filling in for Seabreeze today…unless you all end up becoming great friends! Then he can be a regular!” Her too-large smile betrayed her nervousness at the prospect of her brother having to interact with other ponies regularly. After all, between her and her brother, she was by far the more socially adept pony.
The brown stallion sitting closest to the siblings spoke first. “He’s a blank flank.”
Wordplay cringed, shiftily looking towards his pale blue, unblemished hind end. True, he had no cutie mark—in fact, it was the primary reason he had secluded himself to his room rather than risk socializing with other ponies. Celestia forbid that a nearly full-grown stallion didn’t have his cutie mark quite yet.
Wordplay considered turning and leaving before his sister interjected. “Hoops, shut up. I don’t care if your roleplaying character is a jerk, that doesn’t mean you have to be as well,” Fair Dice chided as she took her seat at the head of the table behind an imposing screen. Wordplay silently thanked her for trying to steer the conversation back to the game as he sat in the last available chair. A character sheet and an assortment of colorful dice lay before him. How thoughtful of his sister to create a character for him, he thought, and she even made the character a scholar to fit his personality.
“Pfft, whatever. Maybe he can get his cutie mark in crappy dice rolls, huh?” the first stallion joked, though Wordplay could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. The urge to leave was rising again.
Fair Dice looked coldly at the stallion. “Hoops. Last warning. He’s my twin, so be nice.”
Hoops gulped. “Ahem. Yes ma’am.”
Fair Dice’s mood instantly flipped, her face once again a giant smile. “Great! Then let’s get to it! Wordy, I’ll let you look over your character—I think you’ll like him—while I let everypony else get the adventure rolling.”
And with that, they were off.
oOo
Deep within the Crystal Mountains, long ago—
Absolute Danger shivered as he trudged through a patch of particularly thick snowfall. It was a wonder that he and his party had agreed to clean out a cave of giant spiders for a measly fifty bits. He loved adventure, sure, but “Danger” wasn’t his middle name.
It was actually his last, but that was beside the point.
“C’mon, you losers!” Absolute Danger yelled over his shoulder at the struggling group. “I see the cave ahead! You can freeze after we get the reward!” He shook to remove a growing layer of snow from his mane and forged ahead with renewed speed.
Awesome Flyer, the sole batpony of the group, stared icily at Absolute. “Shut up! I’m failing my dexterity rolls back here!” As he finished his sentence, he lost his footing and fell snout-first into the snowy ground.
“How are you doing, blank flank?” Absolute hollered back at Wordplay the pony scholar, who was just catching up with the group—
oOo
“What? No!” Hoops yelled, pointing an accusing hoof at Wordplay. “You can’t just use your real name when roleplaying. If you do, you’re not…y’know, roleplaying! Pick something else.”
Fair Dice smiled sadly at her brother. “It would be nice if you stepped into character a bit more. Just imagine you’re one of the characters you write about, Wordy!”
Hoops laughed derisively. “Did you just call him Wormy? Heh, I like it!”
oOo
“Wormy, Wormy! Hahaha! Oh, how priceless—what? Fine, yes, oh mighty dungeon master, I’ll be nice…”
Wormy caught up to the other two ponies as they reached the mouth of the cave. The inky darkness characteristic of the underground began just a few feet from the entrance, giving the cave the feeling of being less of a tunnel into the earth and more of a black-as-night wall hewn into the mountainside. The scratching sound of hundreds of clawed legs could faintly be heard.
Absolute Danger unsheathed a gleaming silver sword from the scabbard at his side, brandishing it in the glow of his magic. “Alright, nerds! Let’s wreck some giant bugs!” Awesome Flyer echoed his compatriots enthusiasm with a flap of his wings and a hearty cheer. Wormy was looking back at the way they came, their hoofprints rapidly disappearing in the gathering snowstorm.
“Hey, guys? Why are we going to this cave anyway?” Wormy wondered, subtly investigating the simple dagger that had been given him.
“Does it matter? We get to use these awesome weapons and make some bits! I see that as a win-win,” Super Flyer replied.
“Yeah, well, I need incentive beyond bits. Who sent us on this mission? Why does he or she care about this cave out in the middle of nowhere?” Wormy said, looking inquisitively at his two brawny compatriots.
“We got it from some old stallion who doesn’t like bugs. Do you really need more than that?”
Wormy scoffed. “Spiders are arachnids, actually. And I do need more than ‘He doesn’t like bugs.’ Why doesn’t he like spiders? Was there some traumatic experience involving this cave? Ooh, I bet he has some great stories. Maybe we could go back to town really quick and—”
Absolute Danger groaned. “Fair Dice, make your brother be less of a nerd!”
oOo
“I’m not being a nerd!” Wordplay retorted. “I just like knowing why things happen. Backstory is interesting for me!”
Hoops fumed. “Well, backstory doesn’t matter for Ogres and Oubliettes! So sit there, shut your mouth, and let’s get to slashing stuff. My sword longs for the taste of bug juice!”
Fair Dice could only offer her brother an apologetic smile as Hoops prepared his next roll. As the game continued, Wordplay muttered something incoherent that sounded strangely like “Arachnid juice.”
oOo
Absolute Danger slashed feverishly at the last spider, its tortured cries sounding like music to his ears. As the pony-sized arachnid’s legs curled up in the throes of death, Absolute began cleaning his sword on the hem of his shirt. “Alright, everything that isn’t vaguely pony-shaped is dead. Do I notice anything? Treasure, perhaps?” He levitated the torch he was holding closer to the walls, muttering about perception rolls.
The gods must have favored Wormy that day, as he was the one who discovered the small silver statuette of a proud and powerful gryphon tucked away in a forgotten corner. “Oh, cool!” he exclaimed, holding up the prized item. “Check this out, guys! A gryphon statue!”
Super Awesome flew by, plucking the statute from Wormy’s grasp. “Treasure! Stupid bugs, trying to keep this guy hidden away. I bet the little beauty is worth a fortune.”
Wormy balked at the irreverent attitude his companions were taking to the statue. “Can’t you guys think beyond bits? Look at the intricate carvings on the base! That has to be from an ancient gryphon civilization, as those markings haven’t been used for centuries!”
Super Awesome landed next to Absolute Danger to investigate the statue under the warm glow of the torch. “Uh, Equestria to nerd? There’s no carvings on this thing. It’s a fancy statue and it’s worth a lot of bits. That’s it. Let’s go.” Absolute Danger took the statue and placed it roughly in his saddlebags.
“Of course there can be carvings! I’m a scholar, that’s what interests me! And anyway, this is a game about roleplaying—I can fill in some details to world-build if I want to!”
Absolute Danger glared at the smaller pony. “Look, man, we’re not playing this so you can reenact your little fantasy stories. We’re playing this to stab some stuff and blow off steam. Now quit interrupting the fun or I’ll see how this sword’s damage stacks up against that flimsy armor of yours!”
Super Awesome circled above Wormy, inspecting his spotless leather barding. “Yeah, you haven’t even taken damage so far. Like, have you even contributed to the fight once?”
Wormy gulped down a rising sense of alarm as he noticed the mad eyes of “I need to hurt something” returning to the other two ponies. “Again, I’m a sc-scholar. I don’t fight! I’m supposed to be sc-scared. Roleplaying, right?” He shrunk back as Absolute Danger loomed large and imposing before him.
Uh, guys? an ethereal voice rose from deep within the cave. Can we maybe do a little less arguing and a lot more gaming? Setting up these adventures isn’t easy, and this is only the first room. The voice’s sigh mingled with the ambient wind coming from the pinprick of light that was the cave’s entrance. And anyway, Wordy, I think they might have a point. Just once, can we forget about the crazy world-building and just roll some dice? For your sis?
“I’m supposed to be scared!” Wormy moaned, at a total loss as to how the two nincompoops standing before him could be confused as to his reasoning. “I’m a scholar class. I don’t fight, I learn. What’s so hard to understand about that?”
Maybe…maybe you should be brave this one time, Wordy, came the voice. Sometimes ponies need or are even expected to be brave, even if it doesn’t fit their character. Quite literally, in your case. The voice chuckled.
Wormy, with no small amount of dread, realized that everypony was honestly in it for the cheap thrill of numbers and loot rather than the immersion of a well-created world. With a grim smile, Wormy walked up to the nearest spider corpse and cut off one of its fangs with his dagger. He inspected it closely, noting that it was the length of two of his hooves and as wide around as one. “You guys want action, huh? You guys want me to get a little beat up? Well, have it your way!” He declared with mock enthusiasm. And with that, he tightened his magical grip on the fang and stuck it as far as he could into his ear.
oOo
The three ponies sitting at the table stared slack-jawed at Wordplay, who only offered them an uncaring, deadpan expression in return.
“Uh…did…how much damage does he take?” Hoops asked, looking to Fair Dice for guidance.
Fair Dice gulped. “Well, a frost spider’s fang can penetrate bone with enough force. Wordplay, can you, uh, roll for strength, please?”
Wordplay complied without complaint. “Natural twenty. Critical hit.”
Fair Dice flipped through a couple of sheets behind her screen, her face progressively growing noticeably paler behind her coat. “Uhm, well, that’s very, ah, lucky of you. A critical hit, combined with the poison, add in Wordy being a level one scholar…” Fair Dice scribbled a quick calculation on a scrap of paper before sitting back in her chair, looking despondently at the result. “Negative twenty-two. Wordy dies instantly.”
Hoops glared at Wordplay. “Buckin’ nerd…” he muttered, picking up his dice. “Whatever, we don’t need him. The two of us can handle some bugs!”
Wordplay didn’t hear his sister defend his earlier assertion that the spiders were, in fact, arachnids, as he was already well on his way back to the safety and seclusion of his bedroom.
oooOOOooo
It was an evening later in the week when Wordplay stormed out of the basement up to the kitchen, followed closely by Road Map. Cheers and jeers emanated from the stairwell to the basement before Road Map closed the door, muffling the cacophony.
“Why can’t I play these games right?” Wordplay said sadly, pacing around the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I mean, earlier it was Fair Dice’s game and the spiders. Now I can’t play your Fall of the Crystal Empire without babbling on about made-up history!” He flopped his upper body onto the island. Chin resting on the countertop, he looked up at his brother. “Is something wrong with me?”
Road Map barked a laugh, his voice filling the room. “Wordy, c’mon, buddy! So you’re not good at some games. Big deal!”
“But it is a big deal!” Wordplay lamented. “I know I’m not exactly the easiest pony to get along with all the time, but I still want some type of friend circle. I can’t integrate. I’m just...I just spend all my time in my own little worlds. Nopony wants to hang out with a loner.”
“Well, I’m not going to point out the silliness of that last statement,” Road Map began, “but I think you just need to give it another shot. What do you say to coming back downstairs and finishing the game? I know Hoops is giving you a hard time, especially after the other day, but he means well.” Road Map coughed into his hoof when he saw the look that Wordplay gave him. “Well, he’s not being intentionally rude.” Another pause. “Okay, he can be kind of a jerk. But sometimes you gotta leap head-first into the danger! You and me, we can take out his army. Won’t he feel foolish then?”
Wordplay sighed. “I really appreciate the effort, bro, but I’m just not up for it. I don’t like Hoops. He keeps making fun of my lack of a cutie mark and...well, he’s kind of a bully. I don’t wanna deal with him. I just wanna go back to my room and write.” He left his spot on the countertop and began making his way down the hall towards his room.
Road Map followed him, lagging slightly behind. “Are you sure? I’ll keep him under control, promise. If I just talk to him, he’ll understand how he’s making you feel—”
“No, you don’t get it!” Wordplay shouted, reeling on his brother. “I don’t fit in with you and Fair Dice’s friends. I don’t fit in with anypony! I fit in with my books and my stories and that’s where I want to be right now.”
The two brothers spent a few moments staring each other down before Road Map hung his head. “I’m just trying to help, Wordy. Maybe that doesn’t mean instantly being at home with our friends. But what about starting the process? I know the other guys down there were turned on to the idea of including you in some games, and I bet we could turn Hoops around.”
Wordplay was silent for a moment before he whispered, “Hoops scares me. He’s mean.”
Road Map, sensing Wordplay’s immense discomfort, stepped forward and wrapped him in a brotherly hug. “Meeting ponies can be scary—believe me, I know. But writing about it is only going to help you so much. You need to be brave and face ponies once in a while outside of obligations like school! Sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to grow.” He gave Wordplay a quick squeeze before relinquishing his grip and stepping back. “Think of it as research for your stories. ‘How do ponies interact?’ I figured a writer like you would like that sort of thing!”
Wordplay blushed, turning to his door. “I’m not a writer yet. Writers publish their stories. I’m just…I just prepare stories. Someday, I’ll make the perfect story. Until then, it’s all practice.”
Road Map watched his morose brother, once again, run away to his bedroom. One day, he thought as he began making his way back to the basement, he’ll see that perfectionism isn’t everything.
oooOOOooo
A week later, Wordplay was lounging on his bed with a fresh quill and a mostly-empty journal. The Lord of the Horseshoes sat on one of the many bookshelves in the room, having been completely undisturbed since it had been placed there a week prior. Wordplay glanced furtively at the book, sitting atop one of the highest shelves in the room. At least there it wouldn’t be mocking him: Hey, I’m your latest failed project! Look at me!
Wordplay groaned, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, trying to envision the next scene of this new story in his head.
Two brothers get lost in the forest. Simple beginning, I know, but every story starts somewhere. The younger brother is pensive about going further, believing that the two should just wait to be found—which makes total sense. After all, staying in one place is what ponies are taught to do when they get lost. So what can the older brother say to convince his sibling to go further into the dark, scary forest??
As Wordplay mulled the problem over in his mind, he inadvertently replaced the as-yet unnamed protagonists of his story with mental images of himself and his older brother. He could see himself shivering in the approaching dusk, looking fearfully at the lengthening shadows created by trees whose upper canopy could barely be seen. Wordplay tried to put on a brave face, though Road Map would know it was a flimsy cover. And Road Map would look his little brother in the eye and, with an unwavering voice, say…
“...Sometimes ponies are expected to be brave, even if it doesn’t fit their character,” Wordplay said aloud. He furrowed his brow in confusion. Where had this slightly profound piece of wisdom come from? He could craft a scene, sure, but he was no philosopher.
But, after some thought, he realized that it was his subconscious recalling the wise words of his sister from a few days ago. Soon his brother’s sage advice bubbled to the surface as well: “Sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to grow.”
Odd that both of his siblings would offer such profound advice within a few days of each other, but Wordplay decided it was best not to dwell on coincidences.
Hearing a commotion through the wall of the adjoining room, Wordplay gingerly poked his head out into the hallway. He was greeted by the sight of Hoops and two other ponies standing at the doorway into Road Map’s room.
“Aww, boohoo, you little filly!” Hoops said, rolling his eyes. “You said you were gonna run our game today and I fully expect to have a game ran for us! Er, run? Run for us? Ranned?”
Wordplay heard a sniffle coming from beyond the half-closed door to his brother’s room. “And I told you, I have a s-serious case of pony flu going on in here. S-so if you could just...just…” A loud sneeze caused the three stallions in the hallway to subtly back up a step.
“Of course you’d get sick on today of all days! Of course.” Wordplay could taste the malice in Hoops’ voice. Hoops pointed an accusatory hoof at Wordplay’s door. “This is the kind of horseapples I’d expect from your brother Wormy, maybe. But certainly not you of all ponies.” At the mention of his new nickname, Wordplay ducked his head back into his room a little bit. No need to draw Hoops’ full attention.
“Y’know,” Road Map said in between sniffles. “I bet Wordplay could run the game. I wasn’t pl-planning on anything too strenuous, since it’s a new game and all, and he’s smarter than you give him credit for. He j-just takes some time warming up to ponies.” He poked his head fully into the hallway, looking down and making immediate eye contact with Wordplay. “Wh-what do you say, little bro? Wanna try your hand at running a tabletop role-playing game?”
As four sets of eyes rested on him, Wordplay wondered whether they would notice his cheeks burning red or his knocking knees first. “Uh, Road Map, you know I can’t run those games. Look what happened with Fair Dice’s game!”
Recalling that day served only to elicit a barking laugh from Hoops. “Ha! He’s got a point, Road Map. Even if he is as smart as you say he is, he still couldn’t get his mind around the intricacies of a world like Ogres and Oubliettes. C’mon, fellas, let’s leave this borefest.” Hoops and the other two ponies turned to leave.
His mind in the haze that comes from poorly-made decisions, Wordplay threw open his door and leaped into the hallway. “I’ll do it! I’ll run the game!” Thoughts of his siblings’ advice on bravery swam through his head amidst the errant thoughts of humiliating himself in front of a stallion who already didn’t like him. The fact that he knew almost nothing of the mechanics of a game such as Ogres and Oubliettes also filtered through his mind, but he was already forming a plan to skirt around that particular issue.
The trio stopped, turning back around to face Wordplay. “Oh-ho, really?” Hoops chuckled maliciously. “You think you can handle all the responsibilities of the Dungeon Master and keep us entertained?”
Wordplay gulped. “Y-yeah...I mean, yes. Yes, I do. And if I can’t, I’ll never bother your games again. You won’t see me so much as touch a pair of dice.”
Hoops laughed, rubbing his two front hooves together. “Excellent. C’mon, everypony, let’s go to the basement. I can’t wait to see the little Wormy squirm.”
oOo
The basement was already set up for the encounter. The overhead lamps were dimmed to a point that they left an air of mystery to the spacious room while still offering enough usable light. An old wooden dining room table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a quarter of equally-old wooden chairs. The surface of the table was covered in sheets of parchment, dice, figures, and other miscellaneous gaming items. At the head of the table was a small tower of books and a screen set up to block the view of the dungeon master’s materials from wandering eyes.
Wordplay stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the sight. It was then that the former thoughts of such things as “I have no idea how to play this game” resurfaced with renewed vigor. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Behind him, the trio of players thumped their way down the stairs.
“Aww, is the little Wormy nervous?” Hoops chided, looping a forehoof over Wordplay’s neck. “I would be too, if I was about to make a donkey out of myself.” With an evil chuckle, he guided the trembling pony to his seat at the head of the table.
Wordplay sat in his prescribed spot, analyzing the materials before him. Thankfully, Road Map had set up the adventure the day before—Wordplay idely wondered if the wet stain on the corner of one of the pages came from the dribbling nose of a pony who was coming down with the pony flu—so at least he wasn’t going in totally blind. A basic rulebook sat on top of the pile of manuals, and the adventure that Road Map had set out didn’t seem terribly complicated. Wordplay felt a tiny surge of confidence building within himself.
That confidence was immediately broken when Hoops loudly coughed, bringing Wordplay’s attention up to the three stallions who were seated before him and ready to play.
“Well?” Hoops said with a devilish grin. “We’re waiting, Wormy.”
Wordplay flicked through the pages for a few moments, alternating between apologies and requests for time to familiarize himself with the various aspects of the game. After a few minutes, he sat up in his chair and stared at his three players.
“Alright, gentlecolts,” he said. “Let’s begin.”
oOo
Total Hazard sat in the darkest corner of the tavern, trying to look as menacing as possible. To him, the large red cowboy hat he wore was the mark of a confident rogue. To everypony else in the tavern, including his two compatriots, it looked ridiculous.
“Really? A bar opening? Heh, I should’ve expected such a cliche first scene from an amateur,” Total Hazard scoffed before taking a large swig of his cider. “What’s next? We talk to the bartender and get a quest to recover some lost family heirloom? Been there, done that.”
Uh, that’s, uh...did you read this adventure already? an ethereal voice whispered from the rafters.
“Nope. I’m just that good, and you just suck that much.”
Super Awesomer, son of the legendary Super Awesome, rolled his eyes. “I knew this would be a waste of time. Can we just go to the cave that we’re gonna be told to go to and kill the low-level minions inside? It would really speed this whole process up.”
The sole pegasus of the three, Scott, nodded in agreement. “We should head out either way. My milk is getting warm.” Met with the questioning eyes of Super Awesomer and Total Hazard, Scott shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry. Mom says I can’t drink, even pretend.”
“I swear, you’re the lamest pegasus paladin I’ve ever met.” Total Hazard stood up from the table and made for the door. “Alright, Wormy, I’m walking outside. What little critter do you have waiting on the other side?” Reaching the door to the tavern, Total Hazard pulled on the handle.
And pulled. Then pulled a little harder, strained muscles beginning to pop out on his neck. He checked to make sure the lock wasn’t set and that there was nothing heavy like an elephant in the way (perception checks can be funny like that) and pulled with all of his might.
The door is sealed. You can’t exit that way.
“Trying to leave, boys? Hehehe…” The voice of an old crone floated through the suddenly silent tavern. The three heroes turned around to find that the room was now devoid of all life save for themselves and a hooded figure sitting at the table they had just got up from.
“Really? The mysterious hooded figure approach? Honestly, Wormy, your brother said you were a writer. I thought you could come up with better stories than—” Super Awesomer stopped cold when he magically pulled the hood of the figure back to reveal the dusty remains of a long-dead griffon skeleton.
“What the—oh, come on! You’re just fishing for plot hooks now!” Scott lamented.
I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Like Super Awesomer said, I’m a writer. And we’re just getting started.
The flickering scones of candlelight that dotted the room were all snuffed at once, leaving the heroes in pitch blackness. A few seconds later, Super Awesomer’s horn lit up the black abyss they had been thrust into.
The trio stood in an enormous underground cavern. They presumed it to be underground, anyway, as the vaulted ceiling showed no discernable light source, yet clouds drifted in the slight breeze far overhead. The ground around them was stereotypical of a cave: craggy rocks mixed in with the occasional boulder or random alien plant struggling to find purchase in this land of little soil. A lazy river flowed behind them—the gentle nudge of a game’s invisible wall, prompting them to explore in the other direction.
“So...this is kinda neat. Better than a bar, or a normal cave.” Scott took in his surroundings with wide eyes.
“Meh. Seen better. But I will say, this is a better start than a fetch quest for a bartender.” Total Hazard, seeming to realize what he said, hastily added, “Almost a better start. Still haven’t impressed me, Wormy.”
Perhaps that dimensional rift up ahead will spice things up a little bit? the voice said with a hint of smugness.
“Don’t get cocky, Wormy,” Total Hazard warned. “So far you’re just throwing stuff at us. Some writer you are, if you can’t even keep to a simple storyline.”
The wind in the cavern blew with more force as the voice grew in intensity. I’m...I’m a good writer. I’m a great writer! Just you wait, Hoops. I’m gonna blow your mind.
Total Hazard laughed. The disembodied voice sounded—dare he say it—confident. And either way, dimensional rifts always led to fun adventures. “Very well, Wormy. Carry on. Let’s see what you got.”
Three heroes stood before the glowing, pulsating tear in the air before them. The voice progressively became more and more excitable as it built the world around the trio. And so the adventure began.
oOo
The sun had long since set by the time Hoops thought to check his watch. “Oh, wow. We’ve been playing for, what, six hours now? I need to head home. Mama’s expecting me for dinner.” He stood up from the table; the other two players followed suit.
Wordplay stayed in his chair, pondering over and occasionally marking the sheets strewn out before him. “Yeah, food. Good plan. Your characters will need the healing effects,” he muttered.
Hoops was the last of the players to leave. As he was halfway up the stairs, he stopped and looked back on Wordplay. “Hey, uh, kid? Game’s over. Wanna come upstairs now?”
Wordplay continued muttering into the papers before him.
“Wormy, let’s go. We’re done.”
“Done like this character is gonna be. Hehehe…”
Hoops rolled his eyes. “Wordplay! Let’s move!”
Wordplay jumped in his seat. Pulled out of his trance, he looked around the room as the glazed look in his eyes slowly faded. “Wuh? Oh, everypony left.”
“You got that right, dingus.” Hoops descended the stairs again and stood before Wordplay. “Look, kid, I’m gonna be straight with you. I didn’t think you could pull this off. Really, I didn’t. It takes time to learn how to play the game right, let alone lead the game like you did. And I hate to say it, but...you did alright.”
Wordplay didn’t know what to do with this information. Wasn’t Hoops the pony who hated him?
“I know you’re probably thinking that I hate you, but I don’t. I just give lots of ponies a hard time. Heck, I do the same thing to your brother! And there’s a lot of him in you. He didn’t want to run the game the first time we all played, but eventually he stood up to the plate. Now he’s our regular dungeon master, and he even got his cutie mark in running roleplaying games! Maybe you will, too. Then we’d have two dungeon masters!” Hoops giggled. “That’d be swell. Would certainly give us a backup on the days Road Map decides to play the ‘sick’ card.”
Wordplay shuffled his hooves uncomfortably. “I don’t think I did that good. Like you said at the beginning, the story was cliche. And it went all over the place! I was totally winging the part with the skeleton army. I didn’t even expect to connect it back to the griffon skeleton in the tavern! And don’t even get me started on the changeling castle. It was all a big mess.”
Hoops, sensing Wordplay’s sadness, kneeled down to his level. “Hey. Stories don’t need to be perfect. Nopony should be expected to be perfect, especially their first time trying something. But you did good! We all had fun, and that’s all that matters.”
“But...but the story wasn’t perfect.”
Hoops winked. “Fun. As long as you had fun, the story is a winner.” He once again began ascending the stairs, before catching himself midstep. “Oh, by the way, Wormy...stepping up like you did and running the game was pretty brave. Especially with me in the way.”
Another wink from the older pony, and Wordplay was alone in the basement.
oooOOOooo
Two months later—
Wordplay sat attentively in his desk chair, eyes glued to the computer screen before him. The computer—an early birthday present from his siblings—was gifted with the intent of helping Wordplay write his stories. However, once he discovered the magical application known as “Internet,” things quickly got out of hand.
His rapt attention was dedicated to a moving image on the screen—a cat with an absurd purple ribbon in its hair trying to find its way out of an overturned cardboard box.
“Teehee!” a feminine voice rang out from the computer’s speakers. “Is my wittle Opal stuck in a mean boxy? Is my wittle Opal stuck in a mean boxy?”
Wordplay chuckled. Cats. They were funny.
A trio of knocks at his door pulled him away from the yowling cat. He looked over his shoulder to see Road Map at the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”
“Yeah, sure,” Wordplay said. “You gotta watch this—this cat gets stuck in a box and then it tries to get out and it is probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” He blinked, then turned back to the screen. “Think we could get a cat? And some empty boxes?”
Road Map put a hoof on his brother’s shoulder. “I think you should spend less time worrying about cats and more time worrying about dragons. Hoops and the guys are coming over this weekend and they’re expecting a grand conclusion to your adventure.”
Wordplay reluctantly closed the cat video and pulled open one of the many documents on his desktop. This particular document was a summary of the adventure Wordplay had cooked up for his new friends, from the cliched tavern intro right up to the planned finale: a fight with the god of dragons himself. The story was dozens of pages long, full of the heroic deeds of Total Hazard, Super Awesomer, and Scott (who still refused to change his name to this day).
Wordplay had been initially taken aback when Hoops asked if “Wormy” could run their next game of Ogres and Oubliettes after that first adventure, but Road Map had been far more surprised. He knew his brother could write a plot like no other, but to grab the attention of Hoops like that was simply astounding. It was almost enough to make him cry.
Almost.
“Ever thought about turning your adventure into a story?” Road Map asked.
“Already working on it,” Wordplay replied. “And look! I posted it to this online forum, and get this: ponies like it! They think I’m a great writer! I’m getting emails now from people who are calling themselves fans of my work!” The smile on Wordplay’s face stretched from ear to ear.
Road Map ruffled his brother’s mane. “I’m glad you discovered what everypony else already knew, little bro. You’re a fantastic writer. You’re gonna do great things.”
“Thanks, Road Map. I can’t believe I spent all that time worrying about the ‘perfect story.’ I should’ve just gone for it. Ponies like me.”
“I’m glad, Wordy.” Road Map was interrupted as several dings sounded from the computer along with a notification of new electronic mail in the corner of the screen. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your fans. Just remember that dinner is ready in fifteen.”
“Will do,” Wordplay replied, waving off his brother with one hoof as he navigated to his email account with the other.
The new emails were more of the same: the vast majority were messages from readers and fellow writers, and most of them spoke positively of his stories. The latest email, however, caught his eye.
A Message For Wordplay the Writer
Funny, he thought. I don’t remember anypony calling me that before. New nickname, I suppose? He checked the name of the account that had sent the email: “princesswavelength.”
The room spun as he double- and triple-checked the name. That email name was widely known to belong to the Princess of the Internet: Pixel Wavelength herself.
What did she want with him? Did he post a story that offended her? Did he hurt somepony else’s feelings? She was going to ban him from the entire Internet, wasn’t she? Where would he find his cat videos then?
He stopped and took a few deep breaths. No need to get worked up over the name. The content was what mattered. His heart beat in his ears as he clicked on the email.
Dear Wordplay,
“Okay, not a bad start.”
It has come to my attention…
“Yup, I’m doomed.”
that you are a talented writer.
“From the Princess of the Internet herself! Amazing!”
Sadly, I do not need just a writer.
“Why is the world so cruel?!”
I need a pony who can go beyond the words on the page—or, in your case, the screen. I need a pony who doesn’t write a story so much as he or she creates a world. That is why I am contacting you: I believe you could be that pony.
Wordplay let out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. Pixel Wavelength, ruler of the Internet, wanted him. For...for something. He continued reading.
I am putting together a network unlike anything the Internet has seen before in the few months it has been in existence. A place where all ponies can gather. Where they can create and share and support each other, without fear of being anything less than who they want to be. I’m talking videos, music, art, and what is perhaps of most interest to you, stories.
The world is full of stories, Wordplay, and they need to be heard. I’ve watched your time on the Internet, and I know the story of how you came to be the writer you are today. I’m not looking for a perfect writer, but I do need a writer who is brave—and from what I have heard, you are indeed a brave pony. I need a pony who can help me lead in the upcoming era of the Internet: the era of Poniverse.
Should you accept my proposal, I would put you in charge of the writing-side of Poniverse. You would see thousands of stories. Ponies would come to you for help. There would be times where you are swamped in work for the good of Poniverse. But, let me assure you, there is nothing more exhilarating than standing up to the task at hand. And that is something that I know you can do.
What do you say, Wordplay? Want to help me build this new world called Poniverse?
Wordplay sat back in his seat. The Princess of the Internet, giving him the option to control a fractional part of the Internet. It was almost too good to be true.
He ruminated on her words. She believed he was brave—whether he was or not was not his place to judge, necessarily, but his actions so many weeks ago with Hoops and that fateful game of Ogres and Oubliettes seemed to confirm Pixel Wavelength’s suspicions. And the countless messages he received from writers new and seasoned asking for help on building their own worlds supported her other assertion. So, honestly, what did he have to lose?
He looked down at his flank where the image of an open book with countless items spilling out of it stood as a testament to his ability as a creator, earned a few weeks prior. Hoops had cheered the loudest.
Wordplay put his hooves back to the keyboard and keyed in a simple reply to the Princess:
Where do I sign up?
oooOOOooo