《The Core of Consideration》 1_Aliens In a room there stands a ''man''. "Security: Privacy Absolute." His ambitions great, his plans grand. "Serenity: Mind Resolute." Great glowing patterns cover ceiling and floor. "Summoning: Fate''s Great Foil." At their convergence hovers life, brain, and core. "Summoning: Mortal Coil." Into living brain, a dagger is driven. "Death and Life: Phylactery." Into crystal core, a spirit is bidden. "Tyranny and Strife: Slavery." With great chants intoned, lesser magics dull. "Property: Owner''s Mark." False flesh fades to bone, fake face fades to skull. "Prophecy: Future''s Dark." The skeletal figure slings spell after spell. "Tongues: Polyglottery." A pre-planned sequence to rival heavens and hells. "Change: Permanency." With fierce arcane cunning, curse and crystal are wed. "Strength: Giant''s Might." Not the first, not the last, but CRRRRRACK! makes three hundred. (Crystal shatters in bony grasp, and new soul takes flight.) Basic (4) dungeon core destroyed. Select Reward. Dreadmaster Sutalu Clac, the first and final Arch Lich, did not sneer at the paltry rewards. Nor did he indulge in his impulse to make a selection. Instead he increased interface transparency from 50% to 90%. Once upon a time ¨C that is to say, as recently as last year ¨C Clac had developed the habit of accepting the reward as quickly as systemly possible just to get the screen out of his face. Core destruction notifications are annoyingly persistent. He followed this habit unthinkingly until a certain hypothesis struck him. Then he set out to break the habit after his tests proved it true: A destroyed core does not reform in the world until its destroyer selects their reward. One too many lost cores. That had been the motivation behind this discovery. Some dungeons had entrenched themselves too deeply into their spawn location before he found them. Others were destroyed by delvers. The final straw had been a core claimed by enemy forces mere minutes before his arrival. Each core is a significant investment. Each loss, a significant cost. Some failures are inevitable ¨C attributed most often to atrocious spawn locations. But the preventability of that final straw had fueled the rising fire of frustration within him. Entire empires would have glowed green with envy if they knew the level of control that Clac commanded over dungeon core spawning ¨C or, as he has come to confirm, dungeon respawning. Many thinkers suspect it, but he alone has proved it. It was a necessary step on the path to controlling the process. And yet, that level of control had not been enough. He desired more. He sought ever greater power. He wanted to grow stronger. And thus did he squeeze another inch of advantage out of his already-ludicrous procedure. And thus he did not select a reward from the faded screen that floated before his eyes. Not yet. Instead he cleaned his basement until it was prim, proper, and pristine. This meant discretely discarding the depleted dregs ¨C most noticeably the now-dead human brain. Once disposal was done, he dismantled the supreme security ward he had established at the start of his sequence, leaving only the standard privacy spells in place. After a final once-over, he left his basement and strode towards his study. He''ll need a worksheet, concentration, and patience to determine the rough location of his dungeon core when it respawns, then he''ll need his world map and atlas collection to plan the best route to reach it. He sat down at a desk littered with parchment, organized them with a wave of his hand, and readied himself for a session of good old mathematics. Then he checked to see how much time remained until full recovery from his earlier spellcasting. That sequence is never easy (or cheap) to cast, even for him. Seeing that he still had plenty of time, he got caught up on a few of the papers he had stacked moments prior. He worked on them while his mana recharged, waiting without bated breath.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ______________________________ In a limbo of nothing but his own awareness, Rori couldn''t move, couldn''t see, couldn''t smell, couldn''t hear, couldn''t feel. He could only think. Hm¡­ not as bad as I thought it''d be, to be honest. He''s been in a sensory deprivation chamber before, and he''s had a few bouts of sleep paralysis in his life. Not to mention his illness. By comparison, this is practically pleasant. The afterlife, I mean. For a while, he burned the recent past into memory. Israel Rori Goldstein once boasted a powerful memory before illness took it from him. It''s been so long since he''s been able to think so clearly, and he wants perfect recall on the scene with the skeleton man. To do that, he needs to relive the memory while it''s still fresh. Then wait for a while. Then relive it again. Rinse and repeat five times, and it will stick in his mind. Between repeats, he had time to think. So it exists after all. Huh. Rori didn''t believe in ghosts, magic, or the supernatural. By extension, he didn''t believe in the afterlife. Not enough convincing evidence had always been his hang-up. I mean, what else COULD it be? But now he HAS evidence. The very best kind: personal experience. Wait a minute. If I''m dead, does that make this purgatory? Or hell? Obviously the afterlife must exist after all- Nope! Definitely not the afterlife. Gotta be something else. There''s no doubt in my mind! Motivated purely by scientific reasoning, Rori knew better than to allow a single piece of anecdotal evidence change his mind. So he kept thinking. Ah-HA! It''s a coma dream! Can''t be anything else. He already tried his usual methods of waking up from a lucid dream and they hadn''t worked. But with a coma dream, of course it wouldn''t be that easy. Wait, if it''s a coma dream, then I''m in a coma. And according to the doctors, that means I''m never waking up again¡­ A coma dream was, in all likelihood, the right guess. Definitely not a coma dream! No, sir-ee! Something else for sure. There''s no doubt in my mind! But then what is it? And for that matter, what can I even DO right now? Step one to changing your circumstances when you''re feeling helpless is to (A) get help, (B) just start doing stuff and see how that goes, (C) try to understand what''s going on, or preferably, (D) do all of the above at the same time. HELLO? ANYONE HOME?! I''D LIKE TO GET OUT OF LIMBO, PLEASE!! Given the circumstances, he isn''t above literally trying to pray his way out of it. This could be the afterlife, after all. Higher powers could be listening to his thoughts. But after a few failed attempts, (A) and (B) didn''t look like they were going anywhere, so he decided to focus on option (C). That means it''s back to the original question: What the heck is going on? There''s a saying that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. So it could be¡­ Aliens. Because he''s fairly certain that literal brain-in-a-jar technology is utterly beyond the capabilities of 21st century earth. Definitely aliens. It''s gotta be. Can''t be anything else. Excluding a coma-dream and the afterlife, aliens is as good a guess as any. Or time-traveling humans from the future. Or maybe the simulation overlords in charge of my old reality have unplugged me from the matrix. In any case, the important question is: Why? Why pluck out the consciousness of a near-comatose human and place it into some kind of limbo? Bio-harvesting. They''re going to turn my body into batteries!! Bio-harvesting would probably mean the limbo is here to stay. That, or some kind of inescapable enslavement. Or both. Nope! Not bio-harvesting. Definitely not bio-harvesting. They always said that was super inefficient. Yep. Gotta be something else. In his scrambling search for a believable excuse righteous quest for the undeniable truth, the thought occurred to him that his fellow 21st century earthlings would be none the wiser if just his consciousness was plucked. His doctors, coronor, and mortician would all assume he simply succumbed to his illness. They need my brainpower. That''s it for sure! But that still doesn''t answer the question of ''Why?'' Are human consciousnesses inherently valuable? Well, yes, actually. They are. Rori firmly believes that. Wait a minute, with 30% of internet traffic being what it is, that means they''re going to use my brain to store their p- However, the pertinent question isn''t what Rori believes to be valuable. The question is what the mind-snatchers find valuable. Nope. Definitely not my brainpower! Super-tech beings probably don''t need the raw processing power found in a human brain. Especially with how biased and error-prone it tends to be. Entertainment for sure. They''ll put me on display like a monkey in a zoo. (Case in point.) From the perspective of someone capable of pulling off a mind-snatch in the first place ¨C aliens, simulator overlords, time-travelling humans, or whoever else ¨C what value could a human consciousness have to them? No, wait! Study! They''ll put me in my ''natural habitat'' to learn more about humans. There could be any number of motivations. Entertainment. Profit. Status. Science. Some twisted psychological drive. Or maybe the motivation is, quite literally, alien to human ways of thinking. Maybe they EAT humans. Or brains! That skeleton man DID have a brain. Was that MY brain? IS that my brain? But one thing''s almost certain. The brain DID have a knife through it¡­ It probably hadn''t been done for Rori''s sake. Nope, definitely not my brain. Must''ve been someone else''s. Rori is just having fun at this point. And/or going insane. He can hardly believe he gets to live through a REAL alien abduction mystery! Whatever''s going on, I''ll be damned if I don''t make the most of it! And for the most part, he''d thought through these theories long before his illness, except the parts involving the weird scene he''d seen. Wait a minute¡­ That is, until a novel possibility finally occurred to him. What if my illness itself¡­ ______________________________ Only once he was fully recovered did Clac increase his interface opacity and allow the reward selection screen to dominate his vision. His creation would not appear in the world the moment he made the selection. Otherwise Clac would have seen the implication long ago. Instead, the core would reform at its own pace. It could take as few as two minutes, and he needed to be ready for that, or it could take more than four hours. No matter how long it took, Clac would wait. Gone are the days of avoidable losses and mistakes made in haste. Here are the days of cool calculation and careful preparation, as they should have been from the start. His atlases hung above him, ready to be referenced. A blank piece of paper sat off to the side, waiting to become a worksheet. A dungeon core is about to respawn in the world, begging to be found. And he will be among the first to find it. Basic (4) dungeon core destroyed. Select Reward. Dreadmaster Sutalu Clac, the first and final Arch Lich, made his selection, dismissed the screen, and¡­ returned to his pending papers. No sense wasting time while he waited. 2_Settings Rori''s torturous and lonely peaceful and homely limbo was interrupted by a stream of typeface, somehow both visible and audible to his consciousness. It was a good thing, too. He was almost ready to resort to mentally shouting at the top of his imaginary voice praying for salvation like a good soul ready to rejoice. Alert! Integrity Failure Detected in Core ID: 0.0.931-47! Initializing SOP¡­ //Standard Operating Procedures Initializing SOP-ACRP¡­ //Automated Core Recycling Program Initializing SOP-ACRP.EECR¡­ //Extract Excess Core Resources The sequence of words came to a halt. There was a substantial pause. The periods began blinking in a rhythmic dot-dot-dot to indicate loading time. Well, not actual periods. The characters were more akin to dashes than dots, and they were flickering back and forth in a zig-zag pattern instead of blinking. But ''dot, dot, dot'' is the closest English analogue. Rori idly noted that he has just encountered yet another unknown language. First it was the tail end of the bone-man''s chant, now this. In both cases, Rori found himself following along as if he''d been speaking it his entire life. ¡­Failure! Central servers unresponsive. Integrating resources into SOP-ACRP¡­ Initializing SOP-ACRP.RCD¡­ //Resetting Core Defaults Initializing SOP-ACRP.ECD¡­ //Extracting Core Data Initializing SOP-ACRP.ACD¡­ //Assessing Core Data Another substantial pause. Zig-zag-zig went the not-periods. ¡­Alert! Anomaly detected within Core ID: 0.0.931-47! Initializing SOP-ACRP.Anomolies¡­ Anomaly, huh? Rori thought. That must be me! Alert! FPP detected. //Foreign Processing Power Initializing SOP-ACRP.Anomolies.FPP¡­ A third substantial pause. Foreign processing power? That''s DEFINITELY me! So they needed my brainpower after all! Determining compatibility of FPP with Core ID: 0.0.931-47¡­ Determining quality of FPP¡­ Determining integrity of FPP¡­ Determining risk of FPP¡­ Analyzing FPP¡­ Let me guess. Quality: 10/10, Integrity: 10/10, Risk: 0/10. Analysis: Super handsome. And smart. And humble. Alert! FPP identified as Soul ID: 0.0.null. Alert! Soul ID value 0.0 has triggered emergency override. Wait, it actually WAS referring to me? Attention intruder! Rori snapped to full attention at yet another language change. There had also been a sudden tone shift, from artificial-sounding to life-like inflections. Angry, authoritative inflections. Finally, there were no corresponding words-on-screen. Taken with the words themselves, it was a worrying combination. Unauthorized mortal occupation of dungeon cores is punishable by immediate termination! Leave now or suffer the consequences! Well that escalated quickly. DON''T WORRY, I WILL! JUST TELL ME HOW! He also made a token effort to ''leave'', but he had no idea how to do anything at all in his current state, so nothing happened. You have chosen poorly! I didn''t ''choose'' anything! Farewell, foolish mortal! May the system have mercy on your soul! Hey! Wait just a minute- but his protest was cut off by the artificial voice of the automated language. Purging FPP¡­ ¡­Ahhhhh whatever. Years ago, his response would have been more severe. But he had spent months coming to grips with his own mortality, learning his own helplessness, and now he was more resigned than angry. There was another extended wait, the passage of time marked only by the zig-zag-zigging of an alien loading indicator and Rori''s own thoughts. So I''ve been saved by miraculous alien tech, only to be killed by uncaring alien bureaucracy. Figures. But if I DO survive, this automated program is going to face my¡­ gratitude. Yeah, that''s it. Gratitude. Alert! FPP cannot be purged with available resources. Phew. Looks like I lucked out. Fear me, lines of code, I''m coming to spaghettify you! Requesting additional resources¡­ I mean- uh- OPTIMIZE! Yes, I''m going to clean you up and optimize you! Failure! Central servers unresponsive. Phew again. Consulting SOP-ACRP.Anomolies.FPP.subroutines¡­ Requesting authorization for Soul ID: 0.0.null to serve as PPP for Core ID: 0.0.931-47¡­ Failure! Central servers unresponsive. Granting temporary authorization for Soul ID: 0.0.null to serve as PPP for Core ID: 0.0.931-47¡­ Failure! PPP must not contain null values. Consulting SOP-mortals.nullvalue¡­ Requesting authorization to resolve null values of Soul ID: 0.0.null¡­ Failure! Central servers unresponsive. Consulting SOP-mortals.nullvalue.csunresponsive¡­ Retrieving temporary value for Soul ID: 0.0.null¡­ Hello! said a cheery voice in the same language used by the would-be terminator. What''s your name? There was a pause that would have been awkward between two living people. Hello! the voice repeated in exactly the same tones as before. What''s your name? Rori wondered if he should attempt to answer. He weighed his options, then made his decision. Hello! What''s your name? Nah. Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' Ignoring the second prompt, his eyes scrolled all the way to the top of the text wall, which had grown quite lengthy by this point. Time to commit a few important-looking lines to memory while he has the chance. Hello! What''s your name? Ugh. If he can manage to ignore that for long enough. At least the words weren''t appearing on screen, just like the warning from earlier. Otherwise an endless stream of Hello! What''s your name? might have clogged the textwall and pushed his memorization targets off-screen. Hello! What''s your name? Let''s see, it starts with ''Alert! Integrity Failure Detected in-'' Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' Oh, be quiet! Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' Go away! Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' AAAAAGH! ShutUpShutUpSHUTUP! Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' __________________________________ Dreadlord Clac checked the time, his illusory face showing an illusory frown. He had run out of papers an hour ago, and he has been shoring up his mathematical abilities in the meantime. He completed two separate practice runs already: two distance/direction combinations that would simulate two true dungeon core appearances. For each, he performed the math to determine the precise locations, then consulted his atlases to route the quickest paths to those parts of the world. For the past minute, he has been tapping his pen on the blank page in front of him, thinking carefully about his upcoming schedule. If the core does not reform soon, this project is going to start clashing with his other obligations. __________________________________ Finally done! Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' Rori was now sure he would remember everything from the text wall. Hello! What''s your name?You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. More importantly, he had reached a few conclusions about his current situation. Hello! What''s your name? The term ''core'' had come up over and over in the textwall, but his automatic-understanding of the word hadn''t come with automatic understanding of context. The word ''core'' was too broad on its own, just like the closest English translation, and the extra details in the text wall only narrowed it down so much. Hello! What''s your name? Thankfully, something else had already blown the puzzle wide open, and it only took until he got there on his first recollection to realize it: ''Attention intruder. Unauthorized mortal occupation of dungeon cores is punishable by-'' The threat had only come as audio, not text, so he had to remember it manually. And despite being different from the coding language, his mysterious polyglottery informed him that the two terms for ''core'' were referring to the same thing. Everything had clicked into place from there. Thank you, terminator friend, Rori thought to himself. Couldn''t have done it without ya! Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' Well, he thought. Not much left I can do with the information I''ve gathered so far. I guess it''s time. Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' That message alone probably added over an hour of time to his efforts. It came up every time he explicitly ''vocalized'' a thought, meaning that his thoughts were somehow being heard. ''Prayer'' might''ve actually done something after all. Who''d''ve figured? Please answer in the format of ''my name is [insert name here].'' Pretending that he hadn''t heard it ¨C a habit that was beaten into even HIS rebellious mind ¨C Rori finally moved on. He readied himself to memorize new lines as they appeared, then he waited for the original prompt to appear one last time. He had no way of knowing when or if the textwall would vanish forever, taking its alien secrets with it. Hello! What''s your name? Using the language and format provided by that stupid thought-killing line, he finally replied. My name is I- Habit kicked in at the last moment, stopping him from referring to himself as ''Israel'' to a stranger. -Rori, he thought instead. Soul ID set as 0.0.irori. No! Not ''irori''! It''s Rori! Just Rori! My name is Rori! My name is Rori! Granting temporary authorization for Soul ID: 0.0.irori to serve as primary processing power for Core ID: 0.0.931-47¡­ ¡­Well that''s a great start, isn''t it? Rori quickly calmed himself down so he could commit that and future lines to memory. Even the best eidetikers in the world can''t remember something if they''re not paying enough attention in the first place. Integrating prior processing power unit "Nominal Operating Normal Standard Artificial Processing Intelligence Entity" Number 7-3n717135 into primary processing unit Soul ID: 0.0.irori¡­ Terminating SOP-ACRP¡­ Initializing "SOP-HelloWorld!"¡­ All at once, the entire textwall was replaced by a new interface ¨C one that looked like it was meant for front-end service, not back-end repairs. When new words appeared, they were in the same language used by the would-be terminator and the cheery interrupter. Greetings! Welcome to the Dungeon Core tutorial! For the first time since Rori''s arrival, he finally did feel a little welcomed. Emphasis on little. But it was better than being treated like swine by automated bureaucracy. It''s almost like I''m a customer. Please remember your responsibility to report any errors you encounter to the proper authorities. Hmm¡­ make that a beta tester. Note that your session may be terminated at any time, for any reason, as outlined in your orientation. Make that a beta tester caged by crappy contract clauses. The hyper pace and small-font text of the disclaimer reminded Rori of TV commercials about pharmaceutical products. Select your Base Danger Level (Difficulty): 0_Harmless (Insane) 1_Saintly (Hard) 2_Safe (Medium) 3_Mild (Medium) 4_Moderate (Easy) 5_Dangerous (Easy) 6_Risky (Easy) 7_Belligerent (Medium) 8_Violent (Medium) 9_Murderous (Hard) 10_Genocidal (Insane) Rori blinked at the list, skimming it once. Others would have seen a menu, a choice, a start of an RPG adventure. And while Rori saw these things as well, he also saw something else: a stopping point that required his input to proceed. An opportunity. He started repeating the last of the ''back-end'' messages to himself ¨C the few lines that had appeared after he had given his name. With the textwall gone, he was now running on borrowed time. After the first mental recitation, he paused to try a few things. Namely, he tried mentally vocalizing a few words. File. Files. Open Files. Note. Notes. Open Notes. Notepad. Notebook. Journal. Diary. Text. Document. Word. Word Document. Open Word. Sheet. Paper. Papers please. Parchment. He was stretching it at the end there. Neither ''paper'' nor ''parchment'' were on the list he wanted try once he finally escaped the hell of Hello! or Please answer in the format of¡­ interrupting every other thought. When nothing worked, he went back to his mental recitations. This time he went over the entire sequence of external-stimulus memories, from the skeleton man and the chanting, all the way through the textwall pre- and post- name submission. With memories refreshed once more, he tried a different approach. He vocalized it ¨C mentalized it? ¨C a single word in multiple different languages, without and with an addition to go with it. He chose to start with Settings, a hopefully universal constant of interface screens. (English) Settings. Open Settings. (Bone-Man Language) Settings. Open Settings. (System back-end Language) Settings. Initialize Settings. (System Moderators / User Interface Language) Settings- Aha! Success at last! A new window appeared above the old, containing a different kind of options list, one he was much more familiar with. Let''s see¡­ System opacity, no¡­ System color, no¡­ Font options, system volume, system brightness, no, no, no¡­ Notifications? You are getting turned OFF! Goodbye and good riddance! Preferred language? I''ll come back for you later¡­ Flavor text? Again, later¡­ He skimmed through the list like a man on a mission, making note of everything he was excited to explore, but not seeing the function he needed. He dismissed the window after reaching the end. Thinking Escape and didn''t work, but Back did. After another recitation, he tried all the previous ''word document'' command words again, this time using the appropriate language and format (i.e. no need for ''open'', just think the command word itself). But they all failed. After yet another recitation, he began going down the mental list of other command words he had wanted to try, starting with the obvious one. Status. Success! Well, sort of. Please finish the tutorial to access your status. Interesting, but don''t rush me. Also, I said no notifications! Now begone with the almighty word of ''Back!'' The pop-up disappeared. Next up: inventory. Nothing. Interface. Please finish tutorial to access interface. Back, foul demon! Back I say! Now let''s see, where was I¡­ Return. Cancel. Menu. He went through the remaining words on his list of pre-planned mental commands. None worked. He also tried a few non-planned commands. Those didn''t work either. At this point he was running out of ideas to try, until sudden inspiration struck. Bug report. Error report. Report error. I would like to report an error. A screen appeared before him. Please describe the nature of this error, it said at the top of an empty box. Could¡­ could it be? He mentally recited his memories, thinking as explicitly as he could, watching words appear on the screen as he thought them. It is! Praise be! A way to write at last! And thought-to-text at that, how lovely. Oooooh, and automatic language recognition! You and I are going to be BEST friends. The error-report screen accepted almost every ounce of language he could remember hearing in the past few hours. Unfortunately, he did not ''remember hearing'' the first four chants from the bone man. Not as words, anyway. But everything else ¨C from the bone man''s final chants, to the scripts in the text wall and the pre-recorded voices that weren''t ¨C it all came out nicely. (Except his attempts to dictate earthly languages, which returned errors on his error-report form.) He checked over his work when he was done, and then realized a problem. Ideally he''d save the document somehow, but he only saw a glowing ''submit'' button and nothing else. Will it save if I submit? Error report submitted. Rori''s eyes would have blinked in surprise if he still had them. And then his eyes would have widened in terror as he realized- Error! Central servers unresponsive. Oh, thank goodness, he thought in relief. Would you like to save to Drafts? NO! Draft discarded. He felt the bodiless sensation of slumping in relief. What''s that, system? Notify the authorities that tried to terminate me? Send them a word-for-word transcript of the fact that they failed to do so? Great idea! What could possibly go wrong? Even saving it as a draft might be a bad idea. Wait a moment¡­ Drafts, he thought to himself. And blessed be this day, for there did appear a screen, and upon that screen, thought-words flowed forth once more. This time, however, he hesitated before going through the full recitation. If the ''authorities'' can peek into my private places and look up my drafts¡­ This thought did not appear on the screen, for it was deliberately thought in English. You know what? YOLO. With ''central servers unresponsive'', and with his memorizations starting to fade, he decided to risk it. Every moment that passed was a chance for small mistakes to be added by his mind, for slight adjustments to happen, for small details to be forgotten. Especially the textwall. So he went through the recitation one final time. Once he was done, words like ''save'' and ''submit'' and ''save draft'' began appearing at the bottom of the draft, until¡­ Draft Saved as Draft One. Back. The window closed. Drafts. The window opened, blank. Open Draft One. Getting it in one, he gave it a once-over. He decided to leave his failed key word attempts in the draft, just to preserve history. For good measure, he added everything he could find in the Settings tab. This took a bit of time due to the long list within the Preferred Language feature. Then, on second thought, he put the Settings stuff in a separate draft. Save as Draft Two. Back. Drafts. Open Draft One. Back. Open Draft Two. Once again, he confirmed everything was there. Back. With the drafts window closed, the same initial choice hovered in his vision. Select your Base Danger Level (Difficulty): 0_Harmless (Insane) 1_Saintly (Hard) 2_Safe (Medium) 3_Mild (Medium) 4_Moderate (Easy) 5_Dangerous (Easy) 6_Risky (Easy) 7_Belligerent (Medium) 8_Violent (Medium) 9_Murderous (Hard) 10_Genocidal (Insane) He looked at the list with longing, tempted to start exploring it. Hmph! he pouted. Soon, my lovelies. I''m almost there. But stop rushing me, okay? First, housekeeping- er, system-setting. Settings. No ''dark mode'' option was readily available, but maybe he can get there manually by changing the screen color to black and the font color to white¡­ __________________________________ The dungeon had not reformed in the six hours that passed since midnight, either setting a new record for ''dungeon respawn time'', or perhaps a new record for ''resources wasted on a single common dungeon core''. Clac has officially been forced to put the recovery process on indefinite hiatus ¨C a truly dreadful thing that he had hoped to avoid. His facial illusion did not scowl as he stood and gathered his pile of papers. One of the whole points of this project is discovery. Throughout thousands of attempts, he''d had hundreds of failures. Some of those, he turned to success. Granted, not a single basic core has failed to respawn before. But so long as it''s a one-off and not the start of a trend, a failure to respawn would be valuable information in and of itself. If it happens, he shall accept it with dignity. At least the core still exists ¨C or rather, the soul bound to it does. Clac touched his illusory chin with illusory fingers. Assuming that total respawn failure is not the case, what could possibly be taking so long? __________________________________ I wonder what THIS button does. Flavor Text: Off/On -> Off/On Rori saw no obvious changes within the Settings window itself, so he Backed out of it, only to see some very obvious changes on the screen beneath it. How aggressive would you like to be? 0_Mercy for all living creatures. No exceptions. 1_Violence only against monsters, not people. 2_Aggression only in defense of life, liberty, and property. 3_How aggressive I will be depends on how aggressive my enemies are. 4_Pre-emptive strikes are a useful tool, but sometimes bad for business¡­ 5_I''ll be exactly as aggressive as I need to be. 6_Don''t blame me if my delvers die. All is fair in love and core¡­ 7_How aggressive will I be? That depends. How weak are THEY? 8_Anything is permitted in pursuit of survival, power, and profit. 9_"Violence" is my middle name! 10_"Mercy" shall not exist in my vocabulary. No exceptions. 3_Description You know what? Maybe just transcribing will do from here on out. After once again going through the full memorization process, Rori considered his options. 0_Mercy for all living creatures. No exceptions. 1_Violence only against monsters, not people. ¡­ 9_"Violence" is my middle name! 10_"Mercy" shall not exist in my vocabulary. No exceptions. No, not those options. Rori hesitated to even think about those options. Not after the last two times. Stupid error report. Stupid Soul ID. Granted, the complete and utter lack of user-friendliness could possibly be exclusive to the business/back end of the system. That sort of thing might not happen now that he''s firmly on the front-end. But just in case, when he does get around to it he''s going to select an option that will (hopefully) be good no matter what. Even if there are no take-backs in this system. But first, more flavor! Is he being petty? Snubbing a system that he felt had snubbed him? Yes. Did he care? Also yes, but not enough to not do it. Besides, pettiness isn''t his only motive. He really does want to see the flavor-added text under multiple languages. Using the Settings to select different Preferred Languages had already revealed a number of nuances about the original list. The back-end ''code'' language gave numerical values for ''difficulty.null'', for example, and a few other languages implied that ''difficulty'' referred to the difficulties Rori would be facing, not the difficulties faced by ''delvers'' ¨C a term that ALSO came up in other languages. Rori hadn''t gone as far as to memorize or transcribe the different translations, but he did compose a summary of sorts: Select the amount of danger that your dungeon will pose to its delvers, and the projected difficulty that should come from managing it (or creating it? being it? unclear), on a scale of 1 to 5. 0_Harmless to all living intruders. (Insane/Impossible: 5) 1_Saintly to all sapient delvers. (Hard: 3) 2_Safe for delvers who respect the dungeon''s integrity. (Medium-Hard: 2.5) 3_Mildly dangerous to all intruders, even innocent delvers. (Medium/Casual: 2) 4_Moderately dangerous, but still leaning towards non-lethal. (Medium-Easy: 1.5) 5_Dangerous, a mix between devious and deadly. (Easy/Beginner: 1) 6_Risky, leaning towards lethal methods of takedown. (Medium-Easy: 1.5) 7_Belligerent, openly hostile to all intruders. (Medium/Casual: 2) 8_Violent, deadly by default and rarely anything else. (Medium-Hard: 2.5) 9_Murderous to all sapient delvers. (Hard: 3) 10_Genocidal to all living intruders. (Insane/Impossible: 5) All of that from a single changed setting. No ''selection'' required. Take THAT, stupid system! And just like ''Preferred Language'', ''Flavor Text'' doesn''t run the risk of permanent selection. Both are options in Settings. He''s free to play around without worry. And play he did, starting with the language of the bone-man. Settings. Flavor Text: Off/On Preferred Language: Invocita Back. Choose your path: 0_For those who treasure life. 1_For those who wish peace. 2_For those who wish prosperity. 3_For those who seek security. 4_For those who seek ease. 5_For those who prefer balance. 6_For those who crave conflict. 7_For those who crave battle. 8_For those who want power. 9_For those who want blood. 10_For those who desire death. Alright, cool. Creepy, but cool. Settings. Next up, the system''s back-end language. Preferred Language: S++. Back. Insert value for null.Lethal: 0_Non 1_Restrictedly 2_Minimally 3_Rarely 4_Occasionally 5_Adequately 6_Readily 7_Very 8_Extremely 9_Exclusively 10_Personally Hm¡­ in a way, that''s even cooler, thought Rori. And even creepier. In fact, that''s going onto a draft. And so is the translation from the bone man''s language. Next up, Rori tried a language that he mentally labeled ''authorial overindulgence'' for how it only seems to operate on the levels of ''vague, cryptic foreshadowing'', ''insulting/amusing idioms'', and ''things in triplicate''. ''Repeating itself often'', ''stating the obvious'', and ''long-winded language'' are also prevalent. Settings. Preferred Language: Eseldra. Back. It''s the opportunity of a lifetime! Be prepared for monsters, delvers, and levels galore! You need only decide your approach. 0_But beware this option. Your abstinence shall be your undoing. For insane idealists, principled pacifists, and worst of all: vegans. 1_It''s true that cooperation is the path to peace and prosperity. But you don''t do it for the greater good, you do it because you can''t stand doing anything else. For those who have bleeding hearts, who have hearts of gold, and for big babies who don''t like seeing boo-boos. 2_You''re just a hard-workin'' fella who doesn''t want any trouble. But if someone insists that it''s you or them, you''re willing to protect your castle and everyone inside. For farmers, family folk, and ordinary, good people. 3_You know that a more proactive approach is needed to protect and provide. Good for pioneers, guards, and the rare noble rogue. 4_You can''t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. Just sit back, relax, and let the delvers do their thing. Hopefully they survive, because then they''ll come back. Perfect for managers, lazy geniuses, and enterprising parasites. 5_You like to keep your options open. You also like to discuss the weather and watch paint dry. Perfect for stale bread, cups of water, and plain potatoes. 6_You respect all parts of the circle of life, including death. It''s survival of the fittest. With the greatest risks come the greatest rewards. For daredevils, entrepreneurs, and the morally relative. 7_There are many things to be won during conflict, and the only conflicts that matter to you have winners and losers. For the strong, the competitive, and the generally sociopathic. 8_Sometimes you like to play with your food. Sometimes slaves are more useful than corpses. But usually not. You understand that all potential threats must be eliminated. For aspiring rulers, politicians (but I repeat myself), and just plain bad people. 9_You don''t kill for profit or power. You kill because you WANT to. For serial murderers, emo edgelords, and the mentally ill. 10_But beware this option. Your depravity shall be your undoing. For insane idealists, truly principled psychopaths, and worst of all: role-players. As usual, that particular language offered a trove of info. But geez does it ramble. Also, how in the world could a psychopath ever be principled? Different translations didn''t give the answer, but they did start ''tasting'' the same after a while. Eventually Rori decided he had squeezed out enough flavor from enough Preferred Languages. He hadn''t transcribed, and he certainly hadn''t memorized. There were limits to the lengths that even he would go for the sake of pettiness important scientific inquiry. Time for another general summary in Drafts¡­ __________________________________ Sutalu Clac considers himself a patient lich. Having other important things to occupy his mind and his time is, in his opinion, the best way to practice the difficult art of patience. And he has many such things. Too many, that''s the problem. The difficulty lies in carving time out of his busy schedule for his side-projects. It''s not a matter of patience, it''s a matter of timing, which is now out of his hands. That''s what''s frustrating him about this most recent core.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Either way, there was nothing for it other than to wait and see. When the morning bells rang out, he made a mental note of nine hours to himself. Then he turned his attention back to more present matters: tormenting the minds of these poor, poor souls¡­ __________________________________ Rori had finally finished his research. He had done his due diligence. He had narrated his notes. Now at last, he allowed himself to eye the underline on the list of ten options. It is time. Up. The blinking underline moved up to underscore the fourth option. Just like in the Settings, Rori thought to himself in English. Down. The blinking underline returned to its old position. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. The menu allowed the blinking underline to position itself beneath every visible option. This marked the end of all the risk-free ways that he could gather information. Time to kick things up a notch. First he scrolled up to the very first option on the list, and then he¡­ ¡­he realized there was a safer way to try this. He opened the Settings. Details, he tried and failed. Information. Legend. Key. Description. Aha! Screen Opacity: 100% Adjust the transparency of system screens so that you are not unduly distracted by them when other matters are more pressing. Keyword found! ''Description'' it is! It still felt incredibly odd being able to wield unknown languages like this, but the less he consciously thought about it, the easier it was, so he''d mostly put that question out of his mind. For the sake of procrastination propriety, he viewed each option in Settings and added their descriptions to Draft 2. He didn''t bother with the wider list of languages and simply stuck to the faithful four: Bone-Man''s "Invocita", back-end''s "S++", head-in-butt "Eseldra", and system''s default: "The Holy Word". What, that''s it? he asked afterward. Lame. You don''t even deserve a separate summary. He backed out of Settings armed with another tool that would not select an option. Description. 5_Dangerous (Easy) Equally capable of enticing adventurers and maintaining yourself in their absence, this is about as easy as it gets. A standard start and a standard progression for a standard dungeon existence. With the most versatile toolkit, a decent starting budget, and a decent passive mana intake, you''re be able to put up a good front early on, allowing you to get your foot in the door no matter where you spawn. Well now, that''s very helpful. Drafts. Time to get transcribing, maybe memorizing, and ultimately, theorizing. __________________________________ Fifteen hours, Clac thought as a deep bell thrice tolled. __________________________________ It took until he''d reached the outer options to finally learn that dungeons aren''t invincible. It''s often the extremities, the edge cases, that say the most about a system. 9_Danger Level: Murderous (Difficulty: Hard) Description. There is no retreat. There is no escape. There are no checkpoints. There is no compromise. They are trapped in here with you. But you''re trapped with them as well. From the moment they enter the floor containing your core, you and your delvers have only two options: victory or death! With a great starting budget and poor passive mana intake, you will be able to build a solid, deadly dungeon at the onset. You''re going to need it. Only a steady stream of corpses can fuel your growth. Warning: Even Violent dungeons can offer rewards to those who conquer them in exchange for mercy. You do not have this luxury. Not a choice for the faint of heart. As for bleeding hearts¡­ there will be many that bloody your floors. Good thing your heart won''t be among them. After all, you don''t even have one. Back. Down. 10_Danger Level: Genocidal (Difficulty: Insane) Description. No retreat, no escape, yadda yadda yadda, same as before, same as before, mostly same as before, here we are! Warning: Extremely Difficult. Like Murderous dungeons, you do not have the option to bargain for your life. Unlike Murderous dungeons, you do not start with the option to have automated mobs or traps do your dirty work for you. You''re going to have to kill your delvers personally. One. By. One. Back. Rori reviewed all that he had learned and transcribed, his mind focusing on the most important facts. Hm¡­so becoming a dungeon doesn''t mean becoming an unkillable inanimate object. Oh, what a terrible lot I''ve been given! Woe is me! Maybe I should wake up from my coma and complain about it to the woman with cancer in the next room over. Only AFTER reminding himself of that did he allow himself to sigh in disappointment. Anyway, looks like system purges and the ''authorities'' aren''t the only dangers. Cores can be killed. Or destroyed, or ''harvested'', or whatever. Phooey. He thought of options 8, 9, and 10 again. On the other hand, with dungeons like THESE out there, good riddance! Also, the Eseldra language was right. Whoever picks 10 truly IS a ''principled psychopath''. Not that the other options are much better. Even the ''good'' ones fall into the category of ''giving guns to babies''. With Rori being the baby, this tutorial being the negligent parent, and the ten listed options being the shiny guns laid out on the floor in front of him, which his baby brain can''t help but be curious about. The safeties may be on for options 0-2. The guns might not be auto-aiming, auto-reloading, or auto-firing like the guns given to the other eight infants. But still. I''ve been saved from a coma by super-advanced aliens. But instead of probing me, they''re going to turn me into a demigod, give me a pat on the head, and basically tell me to ''have fun''. Forget the Hippocratic Oath, they don''t even have Hippocratic Guidelines. Or informed consent. It took a great deal of effort to become ''Informed'' on his own, and that was only after the fact. As for ''consent''? Ha! I didn''t earn it, I shouldn''t have it- maybe NOBODY should- and I can''t refuse it. Only the most deranged, self-absorbed psychopaths in my position would rub their hands in excitement, instead of trying to do something about the GIANT, GLARING problem with the whole entire premise- wait, never mind. That''s probably why ''mortals'' are supposed to have ''authorization'' in order to occupy a dungeon core. Just like adults are supposed to have a license before driving a car. Apparently, joyrides are a universal constant. Accidental or not, I already tried to inform the ''authorities'' who invented this screwed up system in the first place. I''ve done my due diligence to aliens who don''t deserve it. From here on out, I''m doing it MY way! His attention slowly turned back to the list. To options 3-10. Where casual murder is simply ''part of the job''. The term ''spike trap'' came up more than once. It might mean a pit trap full of painful punji sticks. It might mean spears jutting out from walls, or stakes falling from ceilings, or darts flying from blowers. But it would DEFINITELY mean screams of pain and scenes of maiming that, if real, would tear at his conscience. Fictional violence doesn''t really phase Rori anymore. Some of his favorite stories have come from ''renegade/dark-side/bad karma'' playthroughs of RPGs, and he''s a mild fan of the horror genre. But¡­ Couples fighting. Vicious biting. Heads rolling. ¡­But Rori has seen police cam footage of horrible domestic disputes, and general human depravity that some cops have to deal with every single day. He has seen police cam footage of a cop siccing his dog on a man who was not resisting arrest, as well as other gross and violent abuses of authority. He''s seen videos of war and terror in other parts of the world that are much, much worse. Simulation or not, he won''t be treating this like a game. Because, afterlife or not, he''d rather not become a psychopath. And, mortal soul or not, he cares about who he is at his core. So he went to the only option that he could stomach after modeling a few worst-case scenarios. And no, it wasn''t option 1. Those dungeons are still supposed to kill ''monsters'', whatever those are. Witnessing the regular death and/or torture of animals might be bad for his mental health. Also, the system is clearly trying to drive people away from options 0 and 10. Well, screw your rules! I have standards. Maybe it was weakness and cowardice. Maybe it was strength and bravery. Maybe it was something else. Either way, it was his decision. 0_Harmless (Insane) Description. You''d rather die before hurting a fly. None shall fall within your halls. Unfortunately, your delvers were born with brittle bones and crippled limbs. Soften the walls! Cushion the floors! You better watch out. They''re after your core! With the lowest starting allowance and the highest passive mana intake, you will be vulnerable at the onset, relying on fragile temporary defenses instead of strong and permanent ones. Warning: Extremely Difficult. Even Saintly dungeons can protect themselves from wild monsters with lethal force. You do not get this luxury. From the moment a living creature enters your core floor, it has two options: leave in peace, or harvest a hapless dungeon. It''s going to be painful. But not for your delvers. Never for your precious delvers¡­ Back. After one final read-through of all his bloated drafts ¨C he might lose them after leaving the ''tutorial'', after all, and he wants them in short-term memory just in case ¨C Rori made the only choice that he felt a good person would make. Alright aliens, time to give the toddler his tank. I''m young, dumb, and ready for a joyride! Select. Confirm: "Danger level 0: Harmless (Insane)"? Huh. So there are take-backs after all. Confirm. __________________________________ Sixteen hours, Clac thought. Still the dungeon core had not respawned.