Turning it Off and On Again Doesn’t Work IRL – Part 1

“What the hell just happened, Takashi?!” Yzara hissed at me. I just stood there, my head hung low, as I tried to process the events for myself.

After Tanney’s outburst, Fianna shoved us out of the room to give the fox girl some space. With nowhere else to go, Chloe and I hung around the common area after explaining to Keil what had happened.

Yzara’s eyes burned with rampant fury, even without reverting to the yellow tint of her demon form. She was judging me harshly, as if I had done something truly despicable.

“Look, I didn’t know this was going to happen either—”

“That’s not what I asked. Ya know what happened, don’t ya? Spill it.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what <last_saved_state> did, but from its name, it seemed to revert an NPC to the last time their “state” changed. Apparently, memories were wiped clean, too. However—

“She was sent back to the last time something significant in her changed. But I… I don’t know how far into the past she got sent too.”

“Yer joking… that thing is way more powerful than Restoration Magic, then. It’s basically a memory-wipin’ device, too.”

I knew Tanney wasn’t just a piece of code anymore—but the Debuggun still considered her to be so. In my hands, I held something that wasn’t just a quirky little item we used to use to amuse ourselves. It was an absurd, god-like, illogical machine capable of affecting the very fabric of the world and real people in ways I couldn’t predict.

And that responsibility filled me with dread.

Before I could respond to Yzara’s comment, the sound of a door closing echoed through the ship. The second Fianna came to the common area, both Chloe and I immediately jumped up from our seats. The priestess was a microsecond faster.

“How is she?”

“Very confused,” the elf responded curtly. “From her perspective, she was in Adaville one moment, and the next, she was here. But at least she understands that her memory loss is a consequence of having been saved by the White Death. ”

I took a deep breath, the guilt of the situation weighing heavily on me.

“How far back was she sent to?”

“Just before she joined my crew,” Fianna said with a noticeably ominous tone. “The last thing she remembers is formally joining.”

I gulped drily. A dark, heavy feeling rose from the bottom of my stomach. But I had to ask her the question my heart was avoiding.

“When was—”

“A year ago,” Fianna said, avoiding looking at us in the eye.

A year.

The number was so absurd, it took me seconds to fully process it. I staggered back, supporting myself on one of the sofas.

Tanney got reset a year. Way before we ever met, way before the griffin fight, and way before the Airdrake touched down on Luribel. She lost a year of her life, a year she spent working and bonding with Fianna and Keil.

She lost all of that.

Tanney lost way more than I ever could know.

“She knows who I am, at least, but beyond that…” The elf let her words hang in the air. “Takashi. Explain, now,” Fianna said with a harsh tone.

With this new information, I could give them a proper theory of what happened. Back in Arcforge, the player could recruit NPCs to their party. However, not every NPC was recruitable at any given time. Their AI was quite sophisticated, and they had enough agency to independently join other NPC parties. That, in turn, would make them unavailable to join players. I think that was the flag that <last_saved_state> looked for. Tanney formally joined the Airdrake crew a year ago, and that made her unavailable to join a player’s party—even if players were no longer even a thing before I was pulled into this world.

After I explained all that, Fianna took it way differently than I was expecting.

“So the price to pay for curing a White Death infection is memories, huh?”

“Yeah. That’s it,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t catch my lie.

This sort of esoteric payment to use magic items was uncommon, but not unheard off in Iditath—at least in the lore. In the actual item effects players could themselves use, there were none that utilized “memories” specifically. The closest thing was a Profane Magic ritual that made your NPC companions forget who you were—but then again, all that did was reset their flags, not erasing memories from a specific period.

“Anyway, it’s better for you two to not talk with her for a while. I’ll explain what happened to her in more detail, but I’m letting her rest for now. I’m sorry to ask this of you, but could you repair the hole using your gun? It’ll make the Airdrake more stable and let us reach Adaville faster.”

“Ahh, sure.”

This was fine. At least, I could be useful. I had better things to be doing other than sulking around.

* * *

“Sorry for using the Debuggun when you told me not to,” I said to Yzara when we got some time alone in the common area.

Repairing the Airdrake was a piece of cake. I was slightly worried that the Debuggun wouldn’t be able to do it, since the airship was something that didn’t exist in the game, but my fears were in vain, and things worked just as expected.

“‘Tis alright. Ya had no choice after that Black Mist Explosion. And Tanney could not be saved otherwise.” She paused. “So,” she said, letting that single word hang in the air. “Could ya ‘reset’ me too?”

“Yes,” I said, not mincing words.

“How far back?”

I pulled out the Debuggun and pointed it at Yzara. And for her, it showed the opposite option from Tanney. Only <spawn_state> was available, likely because Yzara had never changed her “state”.

“I could send you back one hundred years. No, before that, even. You’d go back to the Age of Heroes.”

“I see. So if you reset me, everythin’ I’ve been through in the past one hundred years would get reset, too. I’d get all my power back, right?”

“You would, yes.”

Resetting Yzara would mean returning her to how she spawned in this world, that is, as the secret, uber-powerful final boss of Arcforge. She’d have access to her Dark Ruler class and her lost skills. Considering there were no Heroes to stop her anymore, she’d be able to easily beat the sealed White Death and conquer the entire world.

“But if ya did that,” she continued, “I’d lose all my memories, too.”

She hit the nail in the head. She’d completely lose her memories of the past one hundred years, meaning she’d squish me like an insect before I had a chance to explain myself. That was why I didn’t want to bring this possibility up before, and let that little misunderstanding stand.

Yzara went quiet after her comment. She just stared absent-mindedly elsewhere, a forlorn look on her face. Only the sound of the engines could be heard.

Tanney was reset a year, and that left her in that sort of state. So what if I used the Debuggun on Yzara? She’d lose a whole century of memories. The struggle against the White Death that had shaped her so much and made the Demon Queen I knew now would be—

Gone.

For me, that thought was like looking into a deep abyss. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for her.

“Ya know, Takashi,” Yzara began, “I never thought about it before, but… I can’t remember being a kid.”

I let her words hang in the air, as a creeping feeling filled my chest.

“My first memories are already of me being the Demon Queen. Controllin’ my Horde, huntin’ Heroes, spreadin’ Bealrak influence all over the land, all that stuff. I didn’t inherit the title from a previous queen or anythin’. I’m just… the Demon Queen, ya know? Always have been, and always will be.” Then she turned to me, and despite maintaining her façade, I could still see Yzara’s real eyes beneath it all. “Maybe I’m less ‘person’ and more ‘monster’, judgin’ by that little tool’s power.”

I just stare back, dumbfounded.

There were no words I could give her.