Chapter 9: Leviathan, by Thomas Hobbes – Part 2

Some distance away from the plains of New Haven was the Treant Forest, a place normally not utilized for grinding due to the long travel time away from the city, the higher effort required in slaying the average monster, the lower appearance rate of rare monsters, and the potential appearance of boss monsters, the latter of which is almost always an inescapable fight to the death. For most players, grinding here resulted in sub-optimal EXP and item drops with a higher risk of death and suffering the EXP death penalty but that was before the culling was announced. Now? It was about as popular as the Oregon Trail where dying of dysentery is an acceptable risk.

“Okay, my equipment is already in the yellow and I literally fixed this yesterday,” Aaron complained upon reviewing his status in the personal menu.

“Yeah… We’re not making good progress,” Lucius remarked.

“I’m sorry guys! I just don’t have the DPS,” Riley apologized. “If I knew we were coming here, I’d have brought lightning ammo but I stocked on HEAT and AP rounds.”

“No one’s blaming you,” said Aaron. “Your loadout made sense; it’s the plan that changed.”

“Should I go back and craft the ammo?” Riley asked.

“I don’t know. What’s the break even on that?” Lucius asked.

“No. It’s not worth it,” Aaron immediately replied.

“How did you do the damage calculation so fast?” Lucius asked.

“It’s his superpower – he’s part-calculator,” said Riley.

“You don’t need the damage calculation formula or to factor in the encounter rate – the major consideration here is time,” Aaron explained. “The effectiveness modifier is +15-25% but there’s less than 4 hours left where we can still grind before the spawns deactivate. It took us 30 minutes to get here, which means that it’ll take at least an hour to get from here and back, which already consumes more than 25% of our remaining time. Therefore, it’s not worth it because we’ll never break even.”

Beyond the programmed ambiance, there was a lull in the forest as the realization began to set in for the trio.

“We’re not going to make it, aren’t we?” Riley said at last.

Aaron looked over at Riley and opened his mouth but he didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say.

Lucius slapped his thighs and said, “All right. We need to change tactics. I think we need to stop splitting EXP, drops, and trophies between me and Riley and focus everything on boosting her instead.”

“Ohhh no,” Riley strenuously objected. “See, I knew you were going to say something like that. So what, I get to live because I’ve got badonkers? Fuck that! I’d rather die than hop into that DEI lifeboat, Captain Titanic.”

With an expression which displayed both kinship and disgust, Lucius acerbically remarked, “Okay, first of all Helen, your tits are average at best and no one would die for them, least of all Troy and secondly, the reason why you’re getting boosted is because you’re DPS, dumbass.”

Riley narrowed her eyes and said, “Okay, you know what? I’m glad you’re going to die.”

“No you’re not,” said Lucius.

“No I’m not!” Riley expressed with frustration. “There has to be another way.”

“I know it’s not ideal but I’ve thought about it and this is the best way forward,” said Lucius. “As DPS, the more you level, the more damage you output, which in turn lets you get more levels, trophies, and damage. Originally, we boosted Aaron because tanks can contribute meaningful DPS but we can’t effectively DPS without a tank to peel for us. Having a front line is just better in terms of action and resource economy when we don’t have to heal or reposition after every other move. And it worked! Our plan worked! We were really close to getting that promotion! But we need to re-prioritize EXP economy now and between boosting you or boosting me, increasing damage has the be the priority. It’s the only choice that makes sense. Once you’re safely out of the culling bracket, then we can boost me.”

“But what if we don’t earn enough to save you?” asked Aaron.

“Then I would’ve died anyway,” Lucius replied. “Look, I know no one wants to say this but we have to face reality. If we don’t do this, both Riley and I are dead. This way, at least she still stands a chance.”

“Can’t say I’m a fan of this plan,” Aaron opined.

“That’s because this plan sucks,” Riley bitterly remarked.

“No argument there but this is all I got,” said Lucius. “If you have a better idea, now would be the time.”

Aaron sighed dejectedly and quietly admitted, “No. I don’t like it, but I don’t have any other ideas.” Then, he turned to Riley and asked, “You?”

Wordlessly, Riley shook her head.

“Then that’s the plan,” Aaron decided. “We’ll soup her up with all the best equipment and ammo we can afford and then we grind as much as humanly possible.”

“All right, fine,” Riley said begrudgingly. “So what are the chances this ass plan of yours actually works?”

“Honestly? Don’t know,” Lucius replied.

“Best guess,” Riley demanded.

“50/50?” Lucius replied.

“That’s it!?” Riley exclaimed.

“I don’t know! It’s an arbitrary number,” Lucius said defensively. “There aren’t exactly statistics you can look up here.”

“Actually, there probably are,” Aaron reasoned. “This isn’t the first culling to have occurred, only the first culling we’ve experienced. I bet we could find records or strategies other generations have used if we looked it up.”

“Hmm,” Lucius muttered whilst thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “You know, you’re probably right.”

“Okay so we’ve got like what, 7 days left until the culling, 6 excluding today?” Aaron pondered aloud. “The good news is that everyone’s probably equally fucked today because everyone’s still acclimating, which means that tonight is when the real battle happens. The teams that find the most information and can make the best use of it are the ones most likely to survive.”

“So what? We go to a library and look up “C” for “Culling strategies”?” Riley asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Aaron replied. “I haven’t ever given it much thought but there probably are historical archives and reference books written about this exact subject. We’ll check those sources out along with anything we find on the net and see if any of it works.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Lucius.

Riley sighed, scrolled through her inventory, and materialized a bottle of melon soda. With a swift motion, she twisted the bottle cap off, lifted the mouth of the bottle to her lips, and took a sip. Then, she exhaled and wondered aloud, “You know what I don’t get? Why make this a competition? Why go through all this trouble? I mean, if some of us needed to die then so be it but why do it like this and not through something like a lottery? Pick a number and if your number comes up then that’s it. That’s fair, isn’t it? Why drag this out? Why not just kill us now and get it over with?”

“I don’t know but it’s probably something nefarious like entertainment for our overlords or some shit like that,” Lucius concluded.

“Nah, that can’t be it,” said Aaron.

“Oh? And why not?” Lucius asked.

“Because it’s not entertaining enough,” Aaron replied. “All we’re doing is repetitively grinding – who wants to see that? If entertainment were the reason, I imagine there would be a lot more variety, competition, and agony involved.”

“Yeah, he’s right,” Riley said while nodding in agreement. “It’s not a death game without maximizing human suffering and so far, things have been pretty vanilla. I mean, we’re not even being hunted for sport – what kind of death game is that?”

“Hmm. Touché,” Lucius conceded. “Then what do you think it is?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” said Riley. “Cullings I can understand but the execution makes no sense.”

“But it has to have a purpose,” said Lucius. “The rules are too stupid not to be intelligently designed.”

Aaron brought a hand up to his forehead and then pulled it down to wipe the exhaustion from his face.

“Guys, I appreciate a good mystery as much as anyone but we’re on the clock here,” said Aaron.

“Oh. Right,” said Riley before taking another swig from her bottle and then dematerializing it.

Lucius brushed his hands against the back of his pants. Then, he expounded, “Well, I guess at the end of the day, the why doesn’t really matter. We can add this mystery to the bottom of the pile. For now, what we need to do is stay in our lane. Tend to our garden.”

“Mmm! Well said,” Aaron expressed with an approving nod. “So. Back to work?”

And so, with the illusion of choice perpetuated, the burden of responsibility shifted, the people divided, and their attentions distracted, the Leviathan once again prevailed.