CHALLENGE OVER! YOU FAILED!

  Every pirate ship in the regatta freezes like a bad painting, including the Quacken. The sea goes dead quiet. No wind. No waves. Just the low thrum of the engine under my boots.

  Hell’s bells, that was the shortest race in history.

  

  Congratulations, Team [Plank You Very Much]

  You have arrived at the SS ValDeezNutz before any other party!

  Pirate Payday! 5,000,000 gold | Free Level Up!

  You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t even see the S.S. ValDeezNutz yet. Whatever RiftElite party got there first must have a vessel that runs on nuclear fission… and can fly.

  

  All Remaining Teams will be suspended in stasis for 5 minutes while [Plank You Very Much] attempts to solve the Fine Tooth Comb mystery. For the rest of you losers, maybe you should spend your stasis time upgrading your vessels in the CoinRiver. Remember: it’s not just a payment, it’s momentum!

  The Critical Trolls don’t bother upgrading. They’re too busy trying to achieve verisimilitude.

  “We don’t have to call it a rubber duck. It’s an Anas Navalis! Latin fixes everything!”

  “Anatus Belligerensis,” argues another Troll. “War-duck.”

  “Recorded by Marco Polo. An Asian design. Filled with whale bladders to keep it afloat.”

  “Or perhaps it’s from the Hanseatic Entenkogge tradition—duck-prowed cogs for winter trade.”

  “Enten—what?”

  “Hey!” I yell. “Upgrade the engines or something! Don’t you idiots want to win?”

  “We’re not here to play a game,” a Troll scolds me. “We’re here to have an immersive experience.”

  Pepper’s eyes peep down over my forehead. “How long do I have to be a hat?”

  I smile. Cabbage Patch is a welcome piece of reality, as weird as that sounds. “You want to come down?”

  “No, it’s okay,” she wiggles her tummy against my head. “You have comfy hair!”

  After 5 minutes of immersive arguing, time restarts, and the Quacken cruises ahead. I crank the throttle and, at long last, I see the outline of a gigantic ship in the distance.

  

  SS ValDeezNutz

  Once an iron-hulled Exxon oil freighter, ValDeezNutz has been transformed into a floating habitat of desperate survivors who know the end of the world is nigh. A wretched hive of scum and villainy… on water.

  Pirate-style jet skis race toward us and escort us to our place near the ship. The Quacken is one of the last ships to arrive at the oil tanker. As we touch the hull, I see iron-rung ladders all over the ship. I fling myself at one and climb for the top. The Critical Trolls follow me, trying to justify the presence of an Exxon oil tanker in their period-appropriate world.

  I get to the gunwale and see a huge group of player parties all trying to get in through one neon-colored door. There doesn’t seem to be any real purpose to the door; it’s not attached to anything. Beyond, I can see the vast deck of the ship is filled with traders, taverns, and trouble—it really is a floating city.

  I head for the deck and bounce off an invisible force field.

  “Hey!” yells a RiftElite player in the line for the door. “Wait your turn, dumba§s!”

  As a party goes through the door, I see the entire deck double like I have beer goggles. The duplicate deck with the party rises into the sky, where it’s stacked onto the bottom of a hundred other replicas. Multiple alternate realities of ValDeezNutz tower to the clouds.

  Okay, so each party gets its own version of the ship to investigate. It makes sense—everyone has the opportunity to investigate the mystery without getting each other’s way. Weird but fair.

  When it’s our turn at the door, I feel the universe double, then everything settles into a uniform reality. The ValDeezNutz is ours. Too bad we’re starting so far behind all the RiftElites.

  As I get a better look at the ship, I suddenly realize this whole setup is just a rip-off of Waterworld. It’s got the same set pieces, the pirate jet skis, the rusted hull, the weird-looking huts. Whoever wrote this storyline must have done it on a deadline.

  The deck is crawling with NPCs. Traders, sailors, kids running errands, drunks arguing about nothing. A thousand little mysteries, all waiting for someone to pull the right thread. Crap. This is going to take forever.

  

  Phase 2: Fine Tooth Comb

  Scour for the ship for clues and discover the hidden location of the fabled Pequod Map to win the quest!

  Pepper gazes upon the hundreds of NPCs who populate the ship. “How do we find the map?”

  “Ask.” I grab one of the fishmongers. “Where is the Pequod Map?”

  “Ahh, the Pequod Map!” As the fishmonger wipes his lips, the Critical Trolls lean forward, eager for authentic dialogue. “Yar, I’ve heard of that rare treasure! The map any pirate worth his parrot would give his two wooden legs for. It was rumored to last be in the possession of Professor Anthrax! But who knows where that map be now?”

  Immediately, the Critical Trolls engage with him. “Stout yeoman, where is this Professor Anthrax of whom you speak?” “What is the origin of the Pequod Map?” “Is it penned in East India inks on waxed vellum?”

  To each question, the fishmonger answers with the exact same dialogue. “Yar, I’ve heard of that rare treasure! The map any pirate worth his parrot would...”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The Trolls pretend they’re in a real conversation rather than an NPC info-loop. “How long have you been aboard?” “What is the purpose of this vessel?” “Could you describe the working conditions here?”

  Professor Anthrax. Why does that name sound familiar? I try to think of where I’ve heard it before, but I give up and move on to the next NPC, a deckhand trying ropes together. “Where is Professor Anthrax?”

  “Oo, Professor Anthrax! Frightful man! You might ask Captain Hughes!”

  “Captain Hughes.” Great, one more guy to find. “Where’s he?”

  “Or she?” Pepper squeaks.

  “Or she?”

  “No one’s laid eyes on the captain in a week,” says the rope guy. “You’d have to inquire with First Mate Moon.”

  A third guy. Even better. “Then where’s she?”

  “Or he?”

  “Or he.”

  “You can usually find Moon in the bazaar at dice! A degenerate gambler, that man!”

  The Trolls are still engaging with the first guy, so I leave them behind and head into the bazaar. The quest leads me by the nose on its stupid storyline. First, I have to challenge a group of seamen to a game of dice. They lose and tell me I need to get my winnings from the First Mate’s wife. I find her. She smiles too much and hands me a ‘secret’ message meant for his mistress. The mistress wants me to rob some guy, and on and on. It becomes clear I’m trapped in a maze of a mystery written by some frustrated Agatha Christie wannabe.

  I peek over my shoulder to see the RiftStorm now occupies the entire horizon on every point of the compass. I don’t have time for a puzzle that takes forever.

  “Can I have three farthings for a lump of sh§t, please?”

  I look down to see a cute little girl holding a basket.

  “What?”

  She blinks at me with big eyes. “Can I have three farthings for a lump of sh§t please?”

  I know this joke. If I don’t pay her, she’ll throw a lump of crap in my face. “Okay.” I flick three gold coins into her hand. “Sure.”

  “Here you go, sir!” She slaps a turd in my hand and walks off toward her next victim.

  “I thought you already had poopy in your inventory.” Pepper peeks at the crap in my hand. “Do you need more?”

  I watch the little girl. There’s something weirdly familiar about this whole setup. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s a weird sense of déjà vu, like I’ve been here before.

  My brain is torturing me. This place is so familiar, but I can’t figure out why.

  “Dave?” Pepper peeks at me. “Are you okay?”

  I swear it’s on the tip of my tongue.

  “I’ll kill anyone who gets in the way of me killing anyone!” I look around me and see a gigantic man with a blond afro and a smoking beard walk by, followed by a bug-eyed sailor wringing his hands. I swear they look like Graham Chapman and Marty Feldman. You probably don’t know them; they’re two old comedians, although they were famous enough that maybe you do. Chapman was in Monty Python, the guy who played King Arthur. Feldman was Igor the Hunchback in Young Frankenstein.

  As I watch them go, I see a group of children playing jump rope. In the middle of the game is a blind man, skipping effortlessly over the rope. He is tall and lanky, his eyes covered in dark glasses. He moves with a comic grace, his long legs doing all the work.

  I blink. “It’s John f§cking Cleese.”

  “Who’s John Focking Cheese?” asks Pepper.

  “Blind Pew.” I’ve got it. I know exactly where I’ve seen all this before. More importantly, I just figured out the solution to the quest. I touch the little crap-girl’s elbow. “Excuse me. Professor Anthrax…”

  The shitseller shakes her head. “I don’t know where Professor Anthrax is, you’d have to ask Captain Hugh—”

  I cut her off. “Does Professor Anthrax have a son?”

  “Dan?” She blinks. “Sure, everyone knows Danthrax.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Right over there.”

  She points at a good-looking young man sitting at the tavern. I head straight for him.

  “Excuse me!” One of the CriticalTrolls picks the perfect moment to catch up to me. “Where are you going, slave? We need to solve this mystery and find the Pequod Map!”

  I ignore her and walk up to the handsome dude at the bar. “Dan?”

  “Yes?” He smiles at me. “How can I help—”

  I chop off his head.

  The bar reacts in shock as his body falls off the stool. I snatch Dan’s hair in my fist before his head drops.

  Pepper looks horrified. “Dave? What did you do?”

  “My God!” A Troll exclaims. “You just murdered that poor seaman!”

  “Yep.” I stuff Dan’s head in my inventory and hiss at the Trolls. “Back to the Quacken!”

  “But the puzzle isn’t solved!”

  “I just solved it. Get back to the boat before someone else does the same. Move.”

  We hustle down the ladder, leap to the Quacken, and cast off.

  One of the Critical Trolls plants himself in front of me. “Explain yourself, sir!”

  I check the Party Inventory the Trolls dumped in my leather pouch. “Give me that. And that.” I highlight a battery, a ball of rubber bands, and a rusty straight razor. “And that.”

  Curious, the Troll transfers the items into my inventory. “I said explain yourself sirrah! Why do you believe you have solved this impenetrable riddle?”

  “Lazy writing.” I summon my MacHack skill. “At first, I thought RiftBorn was just ripping off that Kevin Costner flick, but there’s another pirate movie they stole from as well. Yellowbeard.”

  “Yellowbeard?” A Troll blinks, confused. “I’ve never heard of that movie.”

  “Because it’s old. No one under forty has ever seen it, so it’s the perfect movie to steal from. Plus it’s terrible. Like Mel Brooks married Cheech & Chong to Monty Python but forgot to include the jokes.”

  My MacHack skill combines the battery, the rubber band, and the straight razor into a +1 Electric Shaver. Perfect. “In the movie, Yellowbeard’s map…” I swipe my new electric razor over the severed head. It buzzes a reverse mohawk through Dan’s lustrous hair. Inscribed on the scalp, I see a nautical map inscribed in blue ink. “...is tattooed on his son’s head.”

  

  Item (Unique): Could it be…?

  I shave off the rest of Dan’s hair, cross-reference the latitude and longitude with my HUD map, then drop a pin on our destination. “X marks the spot.”

  

  CONGRATULATIONS Team [Critical Troll]!

  You have found the Pequod Map! You are the Winner of World Deathmatch Phase 2! All other players will be frozen for 10 minutes while you get a head start.

  Scalping Payday! +7,500,000* gold | + 1 Bonus Level

  A bunch of awards fill my HUD, but I’m too busy feeling awesome. I killed this quest. I solved RiftBorn’s ridiculous puzzle before anyone else, and I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at that. For once, being the old guy paid off.

  

  Badge Unlocked! Close Shave Cartographer

  You managed to find a map in the one place no one would think to look! On a dude’s skull! You’re a weird guy. Like, ‘keep him away from my daughter’ weird. But good job, psycho!

  LEVEL UP!

   You have unlocked Level 4 Class Ascension. Hermit class will be upgraded to your choice of specialty upon completion of the World Deathmatch.

  I hit the throttle and the Quacken surges into the stormy sea. “Let’s roll.”

  “We won!” cries Pepper as the Critical Trolls cheer and slap each other on the back. “Capital, sirrah! A capital plan!”

  “Huzzah!” cries another. “The day is ours!”

  “And what brought you to this mystical piece of wisdom, my good Hermit?” A Troll leans in to me. “An ancient tome? Some dusty library that contains ledgerdemain of yore?”

  “Blockbuster video.” I grin, remembering. “I watched it over and over again in the basement Freshman year. Didn’t take it back for a month.”

  “So you were a student of this legend!” a pirate exclaims. “Why were you drawn to this lore? Did it contain mystical words of wisdom? The secrets of the unknown?”

  “Better.” I grin. “My mom didn’t know it had titties.”