[PP-F27] The Mien of Meaning <<The Mysterious Divide: Part 1 Dagan]>>

[Freyd 0]

Sheer determination drove him, tempered by care that no action might further endanger the poor souls within, Player and NPCs alike.  Lines and distinctions faded daily, wrapping around each other like the din of steel on stone to create the background fleshing out the meat of their digital existence.  Ever since the first clues and evidence found of the accursed Sundered Spire, a noobish, fledgling Freyd had struggled to think of mobs as naught but disposable things.  Especially if they could remember their treatment at players' hands.  Some had.  Some did.  Ferocious conviction in that belief drove him as he pelted.  Had it been his head bashing itself against the inevitability of Fate, he'd still never relent.  It was his nature to defy conventional expectations.  This was no different.

*CRACK*

The last vestige of the cavern's mineral resistance gave way.  Redoubt breached, he wedged his way inside, doffing his armor in favour of the more pliable haori and kemono beneath.  By the time he reached her, Morrigan would recognize the same figure she'd first spotted accosting her broker contact, sullied yet somehow also redeemed by the effort of a commitment made and fulfilled.

"You okay?"  Sweat dripped and drenched his brow, along with the rest of him, absorbed by the thick coating of dust caking every square inch of his vividly shadowed form.  Clattering from behind signaled the advent of stretchers and other means of rescue to help funnel the wounded and disabled to fresher air and safer ground.  Her stretch was a suitable answer, fatigue behind her eyes denied voice by her own exertion of will.  "Fair enough, and good on you.  Come on.  Let's get you and your future groupies out of here."  Smiling to ease tension, he also acknowledge her accomplishment.  These people would be spared whatever the cost of their respawn might be.  Maybe just the dark forgetfulness of oblivion?  For all they really knew, players actually shared the same doom as their NPC counterparts.  No one could truly prove otherwise.  Fucking Kayaba and his lies...

Eking out the last iota of fuel from their inner defiance, they got everyone out and were the last two to leave the cave.  Freyd's gaze did its best to keep away from the fractures in the stony ceiling above their heads, the shattered crystal formation triggered in explicit lines reminiscent of demolition charges, like the one's he'd seen in too many of his father's lectures on urban renewal.  It left only a single, disturbing ly clear conclusion.

’We did it.’ Morrígan stated as soon as Freyd slumped into a slowly stiffening mass beside her. ’Do you think this will be a lasting impression, or simply something that is just a blip in their world, to be forgotten by those who call this place home?’

"That's the crux of a question I struggled with daily, until I finally realized it was the wrong one."  His hands shook as he struggled to lace exhausted fingers and wrap his arms around failing knees numbed by hours of repetitive digging. "It's not whether they respawn that matters, or how much they retain, though both offer fascinating explorations in and of themselves.  But, when it comes to the rest of us, each time we undertake a quest, or other content, our choices measure that resilience of our own humanity."  Eyeing a nearby canteen, Freyd's head lulled backwards to rest on a series of crates, too tired to do anything more or bend to his body's needs.  "None of us be sure what will happen tomorrow.  It's how we act today that truly defines who we are, and who we choose to be.  That alone is reason enough to always make the better choice, take the higher road or do the right thing.  To do otherwise invites us to become  the very machine we rage against, or, worse, the very monsters that threaten our existence."

I should know.

Groaning, head abandoning its uncomfortable perch, Freyd forced himself unsteadily back to his feet.  A choice - the only real choice - always and irrevocably made.  Rest can come when I'm dead.

"Come on.  We need to tell Tiberius that someone sabotaged his mine."

Edited Friday at 03:01 AM by Freyd

[Morrigan 0]

She’d asked the question in a rhetorical manner, not expecting to hear anything more than a simple agreement or disagreement to her obviously feigned questioning. A mistake she had made in assumption, when she realised the type of person she’d posed it towards. His answer took time, the words taking on a cadence of determination of will, whether that was intended or accidental in nature. Morrígan found herself listening raptly as he explained his own insight into the situation, the impact not upon those they helped or failed to help, but rather upon themselves. It was intriguing, and more importantly, she found something within it that resonated deep within herself.

’It’s not about them, it’s about us. About keeping ourselves, ourselves. An intriguing concept, certainly. One which took consideration, awareness and a sense of realisation that many go their entire lives without. I can see why you were promoted to the rank of Captain.’ She grinned in an almost playful way at Freyd, before returning to her more serious tone and façade of professionalism. As much as she wanted to humour herself with his ideals, in a playful and friendly manner, she knew that it was far too serious of a topic to take such unruly behaviour with. ’It’s certainly an ideal that would change a lot of how players engage with the world, if they took that into consideration in their daily lives. Far too many treat NPCs as expendable; play things that return to their original state when broken, to be used, abused and sacrificed for our greater good. I’ve seen it, right before my eyes, if you would believe.’

She remembered the undignified way that people had treated the Cardinal spawned populace; the people they were meant to protect and save, the people who treated them as heroes when they defeated the enemy – usually no matter the cost. It had burned Morrígan to her core, watching as they’d tormented and tortured figures that could do nothing but smile back at them, or perhaps curse them with empty words. Tragic, in many ways, was the descriptor one would use in reference.

’I’m sure he’ll be happy to receive information that someone is sabotaging their livelihoods.’ There was a bitterness behind her words as Freyd suggested they return to Tiberius, a lingering emotion that carried over from her previous thoughts. She could all too easily see players causing such damage; although she doubted it was the case here. Cardinal had created the quests, provided it, and although it continued to evolve in relation to their own actions, it rarely caused such an event due to the on-goings of players themselves. The thought brought her pause though, and she glanced at Freyd as she considered asking, before simply stating aloud what she’d been thinking. ’Would Cardinal be so vindictive as to create a…response to our behaviours and actions? Is it possible that something…akin to this cave-in, could be a way of setting the local populace up to condemn us?’

She doubted that was the case, but knew that asking was better than remaining quiet on the subject. Besides, they had a ways to walk before they reached the finality of the quest, and filling the silence with meandering topics seemed more enjoyable than moving in utter silence. At least this way she could gain more wisdom from the other man, see his insights into the world, and his experiences. There’s a lot to learn from him, and if the fates are kind…I’ll have lots of time to absorb and review what he has learnt during his time across Aincrad. It could help me survive, if I’m thorough.

[Freyd 0]

That she didn't simply dismiss his philosophical musings spoke volumes, but she'd already proven the sharpness of her wit and mind by their interactions to date.  Few rose so quickly in the Whisper's esteem.  Even the formal tone by which she transacted with this world had loosened, likely the result of peril shared.  Life did that when it rattled you and another in the same cage.  If there was common ground between all Aincrad's players, that was most likely the vector to find it.  Some, sadly, would simply never bother listening.

"This place reminds me of a sociology experiment I heard about years ago.  A group of everyday people divided between prisoners and prison guards.  Whatever the experiment's flaws, it resonates with a certain truth that people have great potential to be horrible to each other.  Call it base instinct, or whatever you like.  It always stuck with me as a warning for the potential of this place to bring out the worst in each of us, if we let it."

NPCs mumbled exhausted thanks as the players passed, veneers of carefully crafted gratitude painted on their faces.  How much of it was sincerity and how much programming, he wondered.  There was no real way to know.  But, there wasn't in the 'real world' either, was there?  So why did the distinction even matter?  Her musings on Cardinal's vindictiveness stirred further thoughts.

"That's the interesting thing, isn't it?  Some parts of this world are fully isolated from agency.  You interact.  They reset.  End of story.  Other parts evolve, or unlock if you prefer, taking our ability to interface a step further.  It's not like the world we come from, but then this place isn't that and has never pretended to be.  Why do we try to judge and understand it by the same standards?  Maybe, because it's easier?  Maybe because we can't or just don't want to consider the framework behind our perspectives?  It's uncomfortable to gaze inside yourself.  Each of us has ugly things inside, some of which prompt shame, others disappointment, and the worst can be deplorable beyond imagination."

Tiberius's office loomed before them, the culmination of their random meeting and adventure.

"Maybe none of it matters?  I prefer to think it does, and it speaks volumes about each and every one of us in how we act."  Freyd paused, one foot upon the steps leading into the office.  "Consider this: what if everyone in our world can see everything we do in here?  What if they can read or hear our every thought laid bare as output on a screen?  If your soul could be exported and put on public display in such a way, how would you have it look?  Choice matters.  Deeds matter.  If for no other reason than because they might.  Thank you for walking with me today, Morrigan.  It's been, enlightening, in a dirty, dingy, perilous sort of way."

Offering her a smile, he ushered them both inside.

***

Thread Closing:

Freyd receives:

14,788 EXP (Word Count [11343/10*18*0.7] + Quest [500])
2,918 col (1 page [200] + Quest [500] + 15% P5 Reward [2,218])
"Just Desserts" - T4 Perfect Dessert | Prosperity III

Morrigan receives:

1,293 EXP (Word Count [11343/10*1*0.7] + Quest [500])
700 col (1 page [200] + Quest [500])