[Initiating Player Review]
[Icarus – Level 13 Player]
[Game/Class: The Godfeather]
[Beginning Report]
When Icarus entered the opulent room, the Godfeather was leaning back in the plush chair behind his hickory desk. He puffed on a massive cigar, gazing out at the panoramic view of Seaboard City from his high-rise office.
“Close the door behind you.” When he spoke, he sounded just like Marlon Brando from the old movie. “Then come here.”
When the AllVerse kicked off, Icarus hadn’t looked the way he did now: a Barn Owl-headed wise guy in a dark pinstripe suit. But he’d grown to appreciate his new in-game appearance… and the racial ability to literally turn his head 180 degrees to see what was behind him didn’t hurt, either. It had already saved him more than once as he’d ascended through the Godfeather’s ranks.
By contrast, the Godfeather himself was an oversized Rockhopper Penguin. He’d slicked back the black and yellow feathers on the sides of his head, giving the impression of hair, and he also wore a dark suit—black, double-breasted, and finely tailored.
Icarus closed the door, walked up, and did his best to kiss the signet ring on the Godfeather’s feather-finger. He had a beak now instead of lips, so it didn’t quite work like in the movies, but it was good enough.
The Godfeather motioned to the chair. “Have a perch, Icarus.”
Though Icarus had been no one of consequence in the real world, it hadn’t taken him long to rise to the top of the Godfeather family. Like the billion others playing in the AllVerse, Icarus had been gaming since childhood. But unlike them, he’d seen opportunities in this somewhat obscure game—opportunities that would lead him to even greater heights the longer he played.
Now he had earned his rightful place at the Godfeather’s side. All that remained was a single formality, and Icarus suspected this very meeting would finalize his path.
“What is it, Godfeather?” Icarus asked. The game had altered his voice to match those of the rest of the family, giving him an Italian-American accent with a New Jersey flair.
The Godfeather took a long drag on his cigar, puffed out a plume of smoke, then sipped a single-malt scotch worth $200,000 AllCash per bottle. He set his glass down next to a fist-sized blue dodecahedron with a gold number stamped into each of its twelve faces.
Icarus smiled. True to many other video games, a certain suspension of disbelief was required to get past the comical appearance of a mafioso penguin indulging in human vices.
But Icarus loved all of it. This was the kind of gaming world he’d always dreamed of. A world where literally anything was possible, yet still challenging enough that he’d have to earn what he wanted—or take it. Through crafty gameplay and guile, he was well on his way to leading this organization and running Seaboard City. And that was only the beginning.
The Godfeather—an NPC—savored his scotch as he was programmed to, and he looked into Icarus’s jet-black eyes. “As you know, I have tasked some of our associates to deal with a certain anomalous element here in Seaboard City.”
He paused, giving Icarus the chance to respond. “I know, Godfeather.”
“It has been made clear to me that none of our boys are up to the challenge. Even now, this dame eludes us. Embarrasses us. Therefore, I’m sending you to resolve this issue once and for all.”
Bowing felt too formal, so Icarus gave a nod. “The honor is mine, Godfeather.”
“I want you to use all your powers, all your skills. All of our resources will be at your disposal,” the Godfeather continued. “Since I have observed your repeated diligence and dedication to our family, I have decided to declare you my heir. From this day forward, you are my right hand.”
A series of notifications popped up in Icarus’s feed:
| The Godfeather – Rank-Up: Heir of the Don |
| Reward: +$2,500 AllCash |
| +1,000 XP |
| Exclusive Items Unlocked |
| New Abilities Unlocked – Check your Skill Tree for more details. |
| New Perk: Command – The Heir of the Don can command NPC forces of the Godfeather family. |
Icarus beamed. This was it. His path to true power was solidified. “Thank you, Godfeather. I won’t fail you.”
After another long drag on his cigar, the penguin said, “I know, my son. I know. I only regret that I didn’t send you sooner. You needed to prove yourself in other ways, and you have. Now go forth and complete this final task, and this empire of our forefeathers will soon be yours.”
| Objective: Player Sync – Kill or Capture |
| Reward: $10,000 AllCash |
| 5,000 XP |
| Bonus Objective: Capture Player Sync Alive |
| Bonus Reward: $5,000 AllCash |
Icarus’s HUD map updated with a marker in the industrial zone. He rose from his seat, tipped his feathered head respectfully to the Godfeather, who extended his signet ring once more. Icarus mimed another “kiss” of the ring, then he left.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
He may have been a nobody in real life, but in here, he would soon be a king. And then every Player in the AllVerse would know his name.
* * *
“Hmm, what about those?” Silas pointed to a disgusting pair of lime-green athletic shoes on the store rack. They almost matched the green on my boxers, which was probably why he’d suggested them.
“No, I already look ridiculous,” I said. “Besides, the stats aren’t great on those.”
Between what I had left over from my Animal Flossing excursion and hawking some of Dirk and Stecker’s old equipment, I finally had enough AllCash to purchase some decent footwear. We’d stopped at the nearest store, which, despite its industrial exterior, was a trendy chic store with similarly outrageous prices as the first one I’d entered.
I didn’t like it, but in this case, it really was my own fault. I’d insisted that we jack up prices for everything in the AllVerse to drive in-game sales, which in turn would drive real-life revenue, since people were supposed to be able to purchase AllCash “stacks” that they could then use to buy merch in the game.
Whoever first conceived of “in-game purchases” was a flipping genius. It was just a matter of arranging the zeros and ones properly to set it all up, and any video game developer could sell imaginary content, items, upgrades, and more to idiot-gamers for real-world money. The only dumber scam in recent memory was all the NFT shenanigans of the early 2020s.
Too bad I’d joined the ranks of idiot-gamers now stuck in this overpriced world.
Silas thrust his tentacles up. “It’s all the same to me. I don’t need them or want them. I’m just trying to help because, bloody barnacles, you’re indecisive.”
Sync smiled at Silas’s antics, but it faded to neutral when she looked at me. “Hurry up and pick something. We shouldn’t stay here long. Go for Speed and Durability.”
I almost chose the brown lace-up dress shoes with little to no bonus attributes just to spite her, but I’m bigger than that. Put another way, I’m not so spiteful as to harm myself just to get to someone else. Though if I were stuck here for much longer, this place might drive me to it.
Buried in the back of one of the shelves, I found a pair of high-top sneakers that actually looked pretty good and, oddly enough, boosted some of the wearer’s stats.
| Air Hortons Athletic Shoes |
| Rarity: Rare |
| +1 to Speed, Endurance, and Luck |
| While Michael “Big Pachy” Horton may not be as well-known as certain other professional basketball players, he is famous for both a longstanding legacy of scoring points… and for hearing things. Though he eventually went insane, claiming a small city of sentient beings lived on the tongues of his shoes and taught him the arcane secrets of basketball, he did have an uncanny ability to make half-court shots like no one else in history.
| Now Horton’s incredible sneakers can be yours.
Who knows? Maybe you’ll hear things, too. |
I furrowed my brow pretty hard at the item description. I strongly reconsidered because, knowing this game, it wasn’t just a funny blurb but also a dire warning, and the last thing I needed was schizophrenia added to everything else I already had to put up with here.
Still, they were in my price range, useful, and we were wasting time, so I purchased and equipped them. It was a temporary measure, anyway; once I got out of here, none of this would matter, and it would all be banished into digital oblivion.
I made quite the spectacle with my Octo-Boxers, ballistic vest, utility gloves, Silas, and the latest black-and-white Air Hortons. But they boosted my stats and put something between my bare feet and the ground.
Sync bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.” I ignored her reaction, stepped out onto the city streets, and deployed my rickshaw. Given how low on AllCash I was again, maybe I could pick up some fares along the way.
The rickshaw and the Air Hortons combined to get us running at a nice quick pace, but even so, most other vehicles still flew past us at far faster speeds. My HUD registered several of them as Heed the Speed Players before they zoomed too far out of range.
A few Plumber Brothers Go-Kart Players whizzed past us, too, throwing fruit and live reptiles at each other. I even saw one guy doing shrooms, which I’m pretty sure wasn’t the original intention of the game, but given how flunked-up this world was, I couldn’t blame him.
Sync typed on her WHIM from the rickshaw’s cab. “I’m letting Brandon know what’s happening and what we’re doing.”
“And he’ll keep playing assassin doctor?” I shot back. “Great. Glad he’s here.”
“I’m pretty sure I mentioned that his son is here, too, right? That’s—”
“Oh, gosh. Yeah. I lost a lot of respect for him when I found that out.” I shook my head. “Who in their right mind would let their kid waste their life away in a simulated world?”
“You’re such an oblivious, inconsiderate jerk,” Sync retorted. “Brandon’s trying to find him. That’s why he’s saving AllCash. So he can travel to different parts of the AllVerse to locate his son.”
I sighed. “The thing is, if he were a better parent and didn’t let his kid blow his youth on gaming, it wouldn’t be an issue. Just stating the facts.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Silas blurted from his spot on my shoulder. “We should help Friend Brando find Son Brando. Uniting the two would be just grando!”
“Stop.”
After a tense silence, Sync spoke. “Another fact, since you’re so keen on them: Brandon’s son is quadriplegic. The AllVerse is letting him walk again and connect with friends, among other things.”
I nearly skidded to a stop, but this was a busy road. I had the presence of mind to keep going, though I couldn’t help but slow down a bit.
Didn’t expect that.
Admittedly, his situation was… different. It sent a strange foreign sensation through my core.
I didn’t like it at all.
Silas scrutinized me. “It’s called empathy, that unusual and unnerving feeling you’re experiencing right now. Since you’re so numb to compassion, it might shock you at first. Just relax.”
I rolled my eyes and picked up speed with the rickshaw, alert for danger and any available fares. The sun began to sink lower, casting a golden-hour light on the world.
Lights appeared in the towering high-rises around us, and I called back to Sync, “There’s clearly a day and night cycle. Do you think it’s synchronized with the real world? Does time work the same way in here?”
“Again, I can’t say with any certainty what’s happening in the real world, so maybe? Before you went live, we synchronized the in-game time with world time, specifically the Pacific time zone. But we’re in here with no communication, so I don’t know.”
My heart thundered as I catastrophized scenarios where we escaped the AllVerse to find the world in decay and time flying by while we were trapped. My parents had forced too many stupid apocalypse movies down my throat as a kid.
We crossed a bridge over a channel of water running through the city, one that definitely didn’t exist in real life. As more Heed the Speed cars raced past us, I noticed several rafts floating down in the channel below, ferrying hulking green men clad in ragged medieval garb. Yet another opportunity to just shake my head and move on.
“Uh, I think we have trouble,” Sync said. “That car is coming up really fast.”
The sounds of a muscle car revving graced my ears. Probably another Heed the Speed Player, or perhaps another racing game was making an appearance. Either way, I wasn’t concerned.
“Maybe they’re just racing with the—”
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
A spray of bullets chewed up one side of the rickshaw. I recognized the telltale roar of Thompson submachine guns, and I hauled asp as fast as possible. Negative red numbers floated in front of me, and I realized it was the rickshaw taking damage.
Sheesh… I hope they don’t hit the tires, or we’re gonna slow way down!
Sync ducked low. “Do you have any ammo for that rifle?”
“Not a shell! I have no idea what caliber it takes, either!”
A big black classic Lincoln sped alongside us on my left, easily keeping pace. Its suicide doors opened, revealing more feather-headed bird men in suits. They all aimed revolvers and Tommy guns at us.
I met eyes with a freaky black-eyed Barn Owl sitting in the front passenger seat. He pointed a Tommy gun at me, but, inexplicably, he didn’t shoot right away. We just stared at each other for a long moment as I tried to figure out how the quail I was gonna get out of this one.
Then the Barn Owl gave a fright-inducing screech, and all the Godfeathers opened fire.
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break--Royal Road. They call us the Critical Hitters.
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Dungeon Crawler Carl Audio Immersion Tunnel for Soundbooth Theater, and he's the lead writer for the Dungeon Crawler Carl Role Playing Game.
