Me: Jack's lucid green eyes opened perhaps a shade wider, but he made no reply. He simply turned on the hollow heel of his buckled shoe and walked off in the other direction toward his hotel, leaving Zeus to whatever wrathful thoughts might be gripping him.
Aaron: "Fucking Christ," Zeus sighed to himself. With a sip of the last of his coffee and a handful of long, lurching paces more, though, much of the irritation had already faded from his shoulders and his mind. Passing a garbage can on the next corner, Zeus tossed the empty cup into it and with it, all his ties to the airhead. There were more useful things with which he needed to occupy his thoughts; like lunch, perhaps.
Me: Crossing the street towards his hotel, several minutes later, Jack was disturbed.
"I thought you were supposed to be smooth."
"I am smooth! I don't understand what happened."
"You obviously weren't smooth enough." Jack's avatar lounged against the corner of a La-Z-Boy outlet, stretched, and pulled a smoking cigarette from the air. "Face it."
"Great, first I lose my only tech contact in the city, then my own avatar makes fun of me." Jack sulked, puling out a consolation cigarette of his own. "I suck as a person, and at life."
"Nah." The avatar - an utterly androgynous being with long, styled red hair, wearing a black poker dealer's jacket - smiled. "You're just cute and dumb. Zeus obviously isn't an 'opposites attract' kind of guy."
Jack contemplated this, leaning against a lightpost and smoking disconsolately. "That's it, isn't it? It was too much. Christ." He shook his head. That look of fascination in Zeus's eyes...how could he have blown it? "I really am dumb."
"But at least you're cute," the avatar replied. They smoked in silence. Then the avatar glanced over at the hotel. "You know what I could go for? A game of Yahtzee."
"I'm calling Zeus," Jack announced, and walked to a secluded payphone outside a small, squatty-looking church.
"What?" the avatar squawked. "You don't know his number! And what about Yahtzee?"
"You always want to play that. And you always win." Jack dialed the numbers scribbled on a piece of napkin - his only contact with Zeus.
Aaron: Zeus was ducking down the stairs of the metro station with the tiny phone began to vibrate. Stopping with complete disregard to the stream of passengers he was inconveniencing (though no one seemed to point this out to him), he curled his long white grip around the device and traced the number to a payphone by a church near Jack's hotel. Zeus pocketed the phone and kept walking. Jack's phone went dead, and it didn't give him his money back, either.
Me: Jack dropped the phone, his face completely blank. It swung back and forth on its metal cord, clattering against the graffiti-covered stand.
"Move on," his avatar suggested. "There are plenty of other techies in this city."
Jack shook his head. "No...Eischel...this is..." He didn't finish the thought, not to his avatar, not to himself. Unbuttoning his pea coat he took off running, sprinting three blocks until he found a McDonald's with a pay phone. He dialed the number again.
"You're insane!" Eischel scoffed.
Aaron: The call went through, despite the fact that Zeus was far below the City, hurtling along in a metro car with other fine businessman, and despite the fact that Zeus knew who it was. Jack was looking for trouble now. It kind of made Zeus feel all warm and glowy inside. He said: "If I have to be the one to end this call, Jack, I'm gonna take your identity, shit on it and throw it away."
Me: "Jack's not my real name." Breathing hard but grinning from ear to ear, the blond scoped out the restaurant. A toothless old man was chawing on something that probably used to be french fries. In the corner, teenagers gossiped. Jack cupped one graceful hand around the mouthpiece of the phone. "I'm an idiot, I'm sorry. I want to see you again."
Aaron: "Hang up the phone, Jack."
Me: "Will you meet me? Otherwise I'll have to beg, and you don't want me to do that...it will embarrass both of us."
Aaron: "I said hang up the phone, Jack."
Me: "You can hang up, but I'll run to another phone and try your number again. I've got..." he fished through his pockets, "seven quarters left. All I want is to talk to you."
Aaron: Zeus hung up the phone, and the ensuing silence was horribly foreboding.
Me: "Hey, how about you track him down like a dog in heat!" The avatar was smoking again.
Jack hung up the phone. "If I have to. You don't understand, this is about my pride." He thought. Then without another word he walked out of the McDonald's and back to his hotel.
"Oh boy, Yahtzee!" Eischel cried with androgynous glee.
Exchanges such as the above ended up consuming many, many hours of my misspent youth. I suppose I could have wasted the time in far worse ways, but I have still had occasion to lament the fact that I prioritized writing fantasy stories about made-up people with magic powers over, you know, learning real stuff.
The real allure of this kind of writing, though, is that it was collaborative. You might have noticed the two names in the transcript above. Those were not inserted randomly. I wrote only half of the above story, in response to what Aaron, my instant message BFF, wrote. It was a system known as "free-form roleplaying," and for me at least it got its start in the crazy made-up world of RhyDin in the good ole days of AOL 2.5 (for a definition of RhyDin courtesy of Urban Dictionary, click here; for an "example of play," click here). There were no real rules for this kind of roleplaying (hence the free-form, though RhyDin at least nominally utilized AOL's chat room dice roller to resolve conflicts). You just created a character, went into a chat room or fired off an instant message, and started writing a story.
But what ever happened to this magical lost art form??? Well, I think a few things happened.
1) Graphical MMOs. This is probably the biggest reason that free-form roleplaying fell out of fashion. Those who were attracted to the idea of exploring a magical world and occasionally rolling dice flocked to EverQuest and, later, the RP servers of World of Warcraft. I mean, RhyDin was at its peak in the mid-90s, but by the late 90's there was simply a more visually alluring alternative.
2) Furries. When the fantasy and sci-fi characters trickled away from RhyDin, the vacuum they left was filled with anthropomorphic animals. This in and of itself was not a deal breaker, but the focus of the chatroom-based roleplaying then shifted away from story and toward group yiffing. (If you don't know what that means, look it up; I'm not gonna link that one for you.) It made the creative process...somewhat less enjoyable, to say the least.
I still look back on some of the stories Aaron and I created with fondness, though. We played a longstanding Mage story (based on the White Wolf game), using Jack and Zeus as two of the characters. At one point, Zeus was nearly destroyed by Hounds unleashed by the villainous Quaesitors. He escaped only by becoming a data matrix. Here's one more excerpt from the aftermath of his death.
Me: Somewhere out across the city a clock chimed ten. Lane started as if from a dream, jerking back into his chair, blue eyes flying open wide. He had felt...he wasn't sure what. The rising of the blood, a call to chase, the feel of spiritual ligaments tearing... The young mage passed a hand over his eyes. The clouded morning light washed out everything in the room - his wide black desk, the grey-slashed carpet, the translucent blue shirt which clung to the slender muscles of his shoulders, showing veins a darker violet down the inside of his arms. His silver hair, curled at the nape of his neck, feathering out around the ears, looked touseled, unkempt. It was obvious he hadn't been sleeping. With a half-sigh, half-yawn he pushed back in his desk chair and glanced at the computer screen, where he had left off in the midst of a tedious bit of coding. He was wary of computers, not for the same reason many of the Order disliked them (because using them was a blasphemy akin to selling arcane secrets to the Technocracy), but because he himself had never had much luck with the things. Still, they made access to rotes much simpler than in earlier times, when every mage worth his salt had lugged around at least half-a-dozen heavy tomes, just to keep on top of any given situation. Lane's finger wavered; he clicked to begin entering directions for the next stage of the ritual.
Aaron: Lane's phone rang and the sound seemed more abrupt than normal. The caller ID field was left entirely blank, but that was the norm.
Me: His head turned with a dramatic slowness. That sense of dread which clung to him since he had been jerked out his reverie deepened, intensified. No one called him at work. Even Gregory, curled in a black leather armchair in one corner, jolted awake at the sound. Lane paused, allowed his hand to drift toward the phone, then lifted the cordless receiver from its cradle almost gingerly. "Hello."
Aaron: "It's me; I need to talk with you. Can you get out of the building for a few minutes."
Me: He rose without replying, walked to the window. Everything outside was grey - sky, buildings, cars, people. "Where are you?"
Aaron: Zeus had to pick his words carefully; saying too much or too little would alarm Lane. "I'd rather not talk while you're here," he said more gently that he would have to anyone else. "There's a payphone two blocks down the street, by the bookstore. It isn't ringing, but pick it up and I'll be there."
Me: Lane nodded, realized Zeus couldn't see him (or could he?) and replied, "I'll be right down." He hung up the phone. Gregory, sensing something amiss, leapt from the chair and followed his master as Lane tossed the phone onto the desk and left, locking his office behind him.
Me: Five minutes later he pulled himself into the phone booth, squinted up into the flickering flourescent light overhead, and answered the silent call. "Yes. I'm here."
Aaron: "Sorry to pull you away from work." Zeus meant it, too.
Me: "Please. You saved me from it." His cat pawed at his leg and he lifted the ragged tom. "Gregory says hello."
Lane was choking back dread. His voice, calm and even, betrayed nothing.
Aaron: "Scratch behind his ears for me." Zeus paused before continuing, "Something's happened. You probably felt it."
Me: Mid-scratch, Lane's eyes fluttered closed. "No." It was a denial of the situation - he had felt it, and felt it still.
Aaron: "I've programmed myself into the net, and a contact helped to kill my body. The Hounds attacked me but they were too late; now that I think about it, actually, the power might have helped." Zeus paused again before finishing: "I'm an entity now." His tone was difficult to decipher.
"I'm out of the Order's reach, but they're still going after the others. I'd like to help you."
Me: Lane took a moment to process this. "You have no ties to any physical Pattern any longer, then...the Hounds would have severed that. And you are...still alive, still sentient." Zeus never ceased to amaze. Blue eyes flicked open, and at the offer of help he fingered the bruise still livid on his left shoulder. Yes, they were after him indeed. "Thank you," he said quietly. "There is nowhere left for me to go."
Aaron: "I'm everywhere digital. I'm watching the traffic lights click in their cycles on the corner and that electronic billboard scrolling ads behind the booth you're in. I'll always be here and I can do anything you need." This where Zeus would have stopped lazily, tipping his head back to let the limp platinum hair fall out of his eyes. "As far as the tangible goes, there's a hacker in my circle who I know will be glad to work as my eyes and ears. His name's Lio; I'll send his information." When Lane returned to his office it would be waiting for him on the computer, saved in a blank file. "He's a little... high-strung. But he's one of the best. You can trust him with any errands you need run."
Me: Lane could almost picture Zeus there in front of him, looking at him with that unwaveringly flat gaze, and a small smile touched his stoic mouth. "I don't know whether to feel comforted or overprotected," he said at last. "But I am...glad...they couldn't destroy you fully." He mmmed in acknowledgement of the mention of Lio. "I am convinced whatever this threat is, it's coming from inside the Order. It would be nice to have someone working on the outside." Once attacked, it was hard to shake the feeling of being constantly in jeopardy, and Lane glanced around outside the booth. "I am working on the history of the Hounds still, how they work. There is a ritual for rejoining soul with Pattern. I'm finishing it now. If this danger passes..." He let the words trail off, their significance unspoken.
Aaron: "I don't want to go back."
Me: "...Zeus, I..." Gregory rested a paw on the phone. "...will miss you."
Aaron: "I miss you already."
Me: Lane looked at the traffic light, changing still from red to green though the street was empty. "I will keep searching," he promised quietly. "You remember Quvea?" One of their few mutual acquaintances, the Order-mage-turned-hacker had run information between the two of them on several occasions. "She's plugged into the Web pretty much constantly now, usually at the Spy's Demise. If you need anything, she's researching this as well."
Aaron: "I'll let her know where I am, then. How would you like to contact me?" Zeus knew his impulse to hover over Lane continually, however easily it could be done, had to be compromised for the sake of privacy.
Me: "Find Q. I'll contact you through her." He rubbed his forehead slowly. "I have a computer, I don't know if it's safe. But, maybe Lio..." His thoughts were becoming confused, unusual for Lane, and he took a moment of cat-petting to regroup. "You'll be alright, though?"
Aaron: "I'll be fine. In a way this feels more real to me than the real world ever did."
"Oh, do you need a car or a house?"
Me: "I suppose it is always what you wanted." A car rolled past slowly, and Lane turned his back, a drop of cold sweat working its way between his shoulderblades, tenseness betrayed by the thin mesh of the shirt. "I am living with Brent, staying away from my apartment...a car would be a liability."
"When should I contact you again?"
Aaron: "Whenever and wherever you want."
Me: "Soon, then." Lane smiled. "I need to get back."
Aaron: "All right." He added as an afterthought, "Tell Brent I said hello."
Me: "Yes." It seemed pointless to say goodbye, so Lane merely ran his finger over the edge of the mouthpiece and hung up the phone. He didn't realize he had been crying until, carrying Gregory back to the office, the cat licked salty tears from his face.
Aaron: Lane's phone rang and the sound seemed more abrupt than normal. The caller ID field was left entirely blank, but that was the norm.
Me: His head turned with a dramatic slowness. That sense of dread which clung to him since he had been jerked out his reverie deepened, intensified. No one called him at work. Even Gregory, curled in a black leather armchair in one corner, jolted awake at the sound. Lane paused, allowed his hand to drift toward the phone, then lifted the cordless receiver from its cradle almost gingerly. "Hello."
Aaron: "It's me; I need to talk with you. Can you get out of the building for a few minutes."
Me: He rose without replying, walked to the window. Everything outside was grey - sky, buildings, cars, people. "Where are you?"
Aaron: Zeus had to pick his words carefully; saying too much or too little would alarm Lane. "I'd rather not talk while you're here," he said more gently that he would have to anyone else. "There's a payphone two blocks down the street, by the bookstore. It isn't ringing, but pick it up and I'll be there."
Me: Lane nodded, realized Zeus couldn't see him (or could he?) and replied, "I'll be right down." He hung up the phone. Gregory, sensing something amiss, leapt from the chair and followed his master as Lane tossed the phone onto the desk and left, locking his office behind him.
Me: Five minutes later he pulled himself into the phone booth, squinted up into the flickering flourescent light overhead, and answered the silent call. "Yes. I'm here."
Aaron: "Sorry to pull you away from work." Zeus meant it, too.
Me: "Please. You saved me from it." His cat pawed at his leg and he lifted the ragged tom. "Gregory says hello."
Lane was choking back dread. His voice, calm and even, betrayed nothing.
Aaron: "Scratch behind his ears for me." Zeus paused before continuing, "Something's happened. You probably felt it."
Me: Mid-scratch, Lane's eyes fluttered closed. "No." It was a denial of the situation - he had felt it, and felt it still.
Aaron: "I've programmed myself into the net, and a contact helped to kill my body. The Hounds attacked me but they were too late; now that I think about it, actually, the power might have helped." Zeus paused again before finishing: "I'm an entity now." His tone was difficult to decipher.
"I'm out of the Order's reach, but they're still going after the others. I'd like to help you."
Me: Lane took a moment to process this. "You have no ties to any physical Pattern any longer, then...the Hounds would have severed that. And you are...still alive, still sentient." Zeus never ceased to amaze. Blue eyes flicked open, and at the offer of help he fingered the bruise still livid on his left shoulder. Yes, they were after him indeed. "Thank you," he said quietly. "There is nowhere left for me to go."
Aaron: "I'm everywhere digital. I'm watching the traffic lights click in their cycles on the corner and that electronic billboard scrolling ads behind the booth you're in. I'll always be here and I can do anything you need." This where Zeus would have stopped lazily, tipping his head back to let the limp platinum hair fall out of his eyes. "As far as the tangible goes, there's a hacker in my circle who I know will be glad to work as my eyes and ears. His name's Lio; I'll send his information." When Lane returned to his office it would be waiting for him on the computer, saved in a blank file. "He's a little... high-strung. But he's one of the best. You can trust him with any errands you need run."
Me: Lane could almost picture Zeus there in front of him, looking at him with that unwaveringly flat gaze, and a small smile touched his stoic mouth. "I don't know whether to feel comforted or overprotected," he said at last. "But I am...glad...they couldn't destroy you fully." He mmmed in acknowledgement of the mention of Lio. "I am convinced whatever this threat is, it's coming from inside the Order. It would be nice to have someone working on the outside." Once attacked, it was hard to shake the feeling of being constantly in jeopardy, and Lane glanced around outside the booth. "I am working on the history of the Hounds still, how they work. There is a ritual for rejoining soul with Pattern. I'm finishing it now. If this danger passes..." He let the words trail off, their significance unspoken.
Aaron: "I don't want to go back."
Me: "...Zeus, I..." Gregory rested a paw on the phone. "...will miss you."
Aaron: "I miss you already."
Me: Lane looked at the traffic light, changing still from red to green though the street was empty. "I will keep searching," he promised quietly. "You remember Quvea?" One of their few mutual acquaintances, the Order-mage-turned-hacker had run information between the two of them on several occasions. "She's plugged into the Web pretty much constantly now, usually at the Spy's Demise. If you need anything, she's researching this as well."
Aaron: "I'll let her know where I am, then. How would you like to contact me?" Zeus knew his impulse to hover over Lane continually, however easily it could be done, had to be compromised for the sake of privacy.
Me: "Find Q. I'll contact you through her." He rubbed his forehead slowly. "I have a computer, I don't know if it's safe. But, maybe Lio..." His thoughts were becoming confused, unusual for Lane, and he took a moment of cat-petting to regroup. "You'll be alright, though?"
Aaron: "I'll be fine. In a way this feels more real to me than the real world ever did."
"Oh, do you need a car or a house?"
Me: "I suppose it is always what you wanted." A car rolled past slowly, and Lane turned his back, a drop of cold sweat working its way between his shoulderblades, tenseness betrayed by the thin mesh of the shirt. "I am living with Brent, staying away from my apartment...a car would be a liability."
"When should I contact you again?"
Aaron: "Whenever and wherever you want."
Me: "Soon, then." Lane smiled. "I need to get back."
Aaron: "All right." He added as an afterthought, "Tell Brent I said hello."
Me: "Yes." It seemed pointless to say goodbye, so Lane merely ran his finger over the edge of the mouthpiece and hung up the phone. He didn't realize he had been crying until, carrying Gregory back to the office, the cat licked salty tears from his face.
And yes, that is where I got my cat's name.
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