Showing results by author "Arthur Stone" in All Categories

No empty child has ever reached a year of age, yet I am now 13. It has been a long and miserable 13 years, where the best I can manage to do is walk with difficulty. Sometimes, I cannot even manage that.

You are no one. Level zero. Empty of mind and memory. Even your past has been stripped from your brain by the inscrutable System. A long, difficult road lies between you and remembering any part of who you are. A road punctuated with one death after another. You are too puny to survive by might alone. Information is the single resource that might keep you alive, but the brainless “digis” have none of it. Only those with experience can give you what you need, but most care nothing about you or your plight. In fact, some make it their mission to kill you.

Cheater now has a straightforward goal, or so it seems to him. To everyone else, his endeavor sounds suicidal for a high-level veteran, never mind a newcomer whose intellect is still shackled by the System. Cheater sees only one way forward: develop his skills, conquer monsters, and become stronger, faster, wiser, and more fearsome with each passing day. Until he makes progress on his own capabilities, he cannot hope to achieve anything else. But the System has intentions of its own.

On his shoulders, he carries a heavy rifle that digs into his burned flesh. Worse still is his load of loot. In mass, it amounts to dozens of pounds. But in worth, it is weightier than a palace. Only the luckiest of geniuses could manage to escape a dangerous wilderness, where he is hunted with every step, with such riches on his back. Luck, of course, is something Cheater has plenty of. Genius, though, is less clear. He watches his haul grow with each new place he visits, adding to the physical and emotional strain of his pilgrimage.

Something quite odd is happening in Second World - the planet's foremost MMORPG. Something that's causing alliances to be broken, and friendships, forgotten. A worthless low-level mine becomes the stage of vicious battles, its burned ruins suddenly contested by the game's toughest clans. Every border is controlled, and every road in the province blocked off. The weak players and NPCs alike are subjected to non-stop violent raids courtesy of Eastern invaders. And the strong are scouring the virtual world for the culprit - the weirdest noob the game has ever seen.

Welcome to the challenge. You're an absolute nobody here—nothing, a zero, a useless lump of meat filled with bones. You're but a delicious morsel for your antagonists and those who got lucky at the start. The only goal you can have in your miserable existence is to kick the bucket as soon as possible.

At first, stories of Cheater caused nothing but laughter and rolled eyes. As the months went on, however, the tales became more terrific - and more terrifying. Now, Cheater the Lovestruck Loser has become Cheater the Lucky Legend. He never misses. He can never be held captive. And his luck never runs out. In pursuit of his love, his inexorable progress eastward leaves a trail of story upon story and corpse upon corpse.

The history of our world tends to move along a shallow spiral - when completing a turn, you end up mighty close to where you started. The history of Second World, in contrast, seems to have simplified its path to a ring from which there is no apparent way out. An unforeseen invasion lays waste to whole provinces, prompting the game's most powerful clans to ally with the emperor's guard to stop the monstrous hordes in their tracks. A war erupts that nobody saw coming, shattering the tedium of peaceful life.

They plucked him out of his own familiar world to kill him with extreme prejudice. This is what always happens to those who are just food in the bowl for someone with a better luck. But consider yourself warned: he is a very special food - the kind that eats you right back. Think again whether you really want to come and get him. And if you still do, just stay put. He'll come for you himself.

Some fall prey to those holding a gun for the first time. Others cannot be defeated even by the most experienced shooters in the world, unless their luck comes to save the day. Cheater’s accuracy is unparalleled, and Lady Luck is on his side. He has all the marks of a champion, and champions never miss. The true aim of his heart, though, is not one that can be hit with a single fortunate shot. No, she is far to the west, beyond several of the Continent’s most dangerous locations: the bleak boundaries dividing regions from one another.

The new, detached setting is teeming with "land mines"—highly unusual ones. Plenty of other, deadlier things would be happy to reach out and touch someone anywhere, be it the roof of a skyscraper or a subway tunnel deep underground. Tons of somnambulant extras could swing either way: cut your throat or help you, purely on a whim. Weapons are as deadly as they are improbable. Deliberately imposed multiple handicaps make any attempts at camouflage meaningless.

The Grove is a perilous wound on the face of the planet, home to the most fearsome creatures in all of Rock. Death himself has trod these paths, leaving in his wake freakish mutants who still bear within themselves a piece of his morbid nature.

Du willst, dass aus einem Rohdiamanten ein Brillant wird? Dann musst du ihn schleifen lassen. So kam es, dass ich mich auf die Suche nach einem Schleifer machen musste, und da ich ein außergewöhnlicher Diamant war, brauchte ich einen ganz besonderen Meister. Derjenige, der dieser Aufgabe gewachsen war, war ein echtes Unikum — genial, aber auch mit Tücken. Er wohnte auf einem rauen, hohen Berg und empfing ungebetene Besucher auf sehr eigentümliche Weise. Ob man ein einfacher Bursche aus dem Volk oder der Sohn eines Präfekten war, juckte ihn kein bisschen.

Ich habe einen Plan. Einen guten, durchdachten Plan. Doch ein hinterlistiger Zwerg und zwei Schläger zwingen mich dazu, früher zu handeln, als ich wollte. Dabei habe ich noch nicht alles vorbereitet. Der Plan wackelt, und von überall her platzen unangenehme Überraschungen herein. Statt das Übel mithilfe einer Armee schweigsamer Helfer auszumerzen, bin ich auf mich allein gestellt. Die Stadt, unter der sich möglicherweise das verbirgt, was ich schon so lange suche, wird belagert.

The Challenge continues, and there is no end in sight to the bloodletting. It doesn't matter whether you are a "Brahmin" or a disenfranchised piece of meat, a popular top dog or the lowliest loser. You still don't know squat, and if anything, the questions just keep piling up. Yet, the new tier is also different, at least for some. You can go hard, or go easy, but the harder the going, the higher the loot. If you are lucky, you may even get a respite from feeding on your own kind. Instead, you'll be eating right. But don't rejoice finding yourself all alone on a deserted shore.

It started with a girl. Her father, as it turned out, was a barbaric maniac. Decades into the 21st century, the madman seemed terribly out of place. Yet he was also a powerful mogul - and determined to turn the life of every man who had ever been romantically involved with his daughter into a particular variant of hell only made possible by the latest VR technology. All 17 of his girl's former lovers would suffer in virtual reality until they snapped. For the first 16, the project succeeded. But the 17th was different. The 17th was Dark.

Willkommen beim Trial. Hier bist du niemand. Du bist nichts. Eine Null, ein nichtsnutziges Stück Fleisch mit Knochen. Ein schmackhafter Happen für deine Gegenspieler und für die, die beim Start Glück hatten. Futter. Der einzige Sinn deiner jämmerlichen Existenz ist, möglichst schnell zu verrecken.

Manche sagen, es gäbe keinen furchtbareren Ort im ganzen Norden. Das Dickicht. Eine eiternde Wunde auf dem Antlitz des Planeten, die Wurzel und Heimat der gefährlichsten Kreaturen von Rock. Der Tod selbst sei einst durch seine Gebiete gewandert, und wo er den Fuß hinsetzte, gebar er abscheuliche Mischwesen, denen er einen Teil seiner Natur, einen morbiden Kern, einpflanzte. In das Dickicht vorzudringen, ist schwer; lebend wieder herauszukommen, noch schwerer. Wen es durch eine Laune des Schicksals dorthin verschlägt, der ist endgültig verloren–es sei denn natürlich, er ist ein großer Held.

Ich bin der, den es nicht geben dürfte. Meinesgleichen wird normalerweise tot geboren oder–wenn es gut läuft–sterben wir noch als Säuglinge. Wer sich nicht entwickeln kann, stirbt. Es ist eine simple Sache. Kein Kind der Leere hat jemals das erste Jahr überlebt. Nur ich habe es bis zum dreizehnten geschafft, und fragt nicht, wie. Elende dreizehn Jahre einer jämmerlichen Existenz. Alles, was ich in der Zeit tun konnte, war mich mit unendlicher Anstrengung zu bewegen. Und selbst das nicht immer. Für jede Minute meines Lebens musste der Clan tief in die Tasche greifen.