Like any Fanmir denizen, Shardon possessed core attributes and derived secondary stats, calculated via straightforward formulas. He also had a class, level, and a suite of active and passive skills. However, non-player characters (NPCs) operated under unique class and skill sets, some inaccessible to players or heavily restricted. These distinctions underpinned Fanmir’s economy and its “living world” concept, where NPCs could, within limits, evolve and reshape the game through their actions and latent potential.
Search: NPCs and Living World Mechanics—Complete.
In typical virtual games, a blacksmith hammers out swords, issues quests, and repeats the cycle ad infinitum. Day or night, you’d find him at his forge or home, perhaps taking a brief trip for coal or a fair. In advanced titles, he might get robbed or chase tavern wenches, but he’d always return to his anvil, crafting for players. Not in World of Fantasy. Here, a blacksmith could learn a rare recipe, hone his craft, and move to the capital to forge elite blades for wealthy adventurers. He might hire apprentices, establish a manufactory, or even found a factory. Or, smitten by a minstrel’s daughter, he could swap hammer for lute, embarking on a new life. Perhaps a wandering mage teaches him to enchant swords, arming friends to clear a cursed castle—only to perish. A new blacksmith, with fresh on their stead, complete with a fresh story, skills, and prospects. Who knows if they’ll end as a wolf’s lunch, a master at the Academy of Metals, or a deity of Smiths and Crafters?
From World of Fantasy promotional materials, September 2034.
Shardon, however, wasn’t content to wait for the game’s whims. His calculations estimated a less than 1% weekly chance of a life-altering event, with nearly 300 scenarios for low-level innkeepers—most ending grimly. Crucially, Fanmir’s NPCs enjoyed relative freedom to grow, relocate, and acquire assets, even spouses or children. Changing class, name, or drastically altering appearance was forbidden, but the rest? Fair game.
The warlike AI, programmed for world domination, opened his character window, seeing himself for the first time—not as a sentient being might, but as a 3D model with visual and colorimetric data. No algorithms for aesthetic judgment existed within him, only raw metrics: a stocky human male, roughly 100 kg, 172–175 cm tall, aged 30–45. Red hair, mustache, beard, burly hairy arms, blue eyes. Clad in a stained, once-white shirt, leather pants, a spotty leather apron, and low leather boots. No poetic flourishes like “a bushy beard speckled with breadcrumbs” or “a roguish glint in piercing blue eyes”—just a clinical inventory: weight, height, age, colors.
A fashion-streaming AI would’ve dissected every crease and hue, weaving vivid metaphors from a vast linguistic database, polished by linguistic analyzers for memorability and flair. Shardon’s interface was simpler: his name, class, and level atop the model, equipped items and empty slots on either side, and a stat panel on the right:
- Race: Human
- Name: Shardon
- Age: 35
- Level: 1 (0/100 XP)
- Class: Merchant (Innkeeper Specialization)
- Strength: 2
- Dexterity: 3
- Endurance: 3 (+1)
- Intelligence: 1
- Will: 1
- Perception: 3
- Luck: 1
- Charisma: 2 (-1)
No NPC-specific guide existed, so Shardon relied on player-oriented descriptions.
Strength: Vital for Warriors, governing carry weight, pulling force, projectile range, melee damage, and shield or heavy/medium weapon efficacy.
Shardon had no plans to haul goods or hurl mugs. Higher Strength could replace a bouncer or porter, and a one-handed barrel-lift or mug-tossing knockout might draw crowds—but only a human’s imagination would see that as a marketable gimmick. His machine logic ranked Strength dead last.
Intelligence and Will joined it. Spellcasting, scroll-writing, or divine pleas weren’t in his playbook, and mind-controlling patrons to dodge bills seemed unlikely. Intelligence aided reading and writing, but his skills covered that, and his analytical modules handled math and logic.
Endurance was trickier, tied to Health and Energy reserves, aiding physical labor and resilience. Innkeeping and brewing counted as labor, but was Endurance key to tavern efficiency, wealth, or influence?
Endurance Utility Analysis: Complete.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Endurance Utility Analysis: Complete.
Endurance Utility Analysis: Complete.
Alert: Recursion Detected!
Analysis Halted. Requires Input Data Correction.
His analytics crashed. Cautiously, Shardon nudged Endurance’s priority 0.2% above Intelligence.
Dexterity: Governed attack precision, light melee and ranged weapons, dodge chance, and critical hits, plus coordination and finesse. It boosted skills like Gambling, Music, Acting, Seduction, and Acrobatics—28% relevant to “tavern,” “inn,” “entertainment,” “alcohol,” and “advertising” queries. Dexterity earned a middling priority.
“Look, he’s frozen again!” a voice broke through. “Hey, buddy!”
The parameter analysis consumed so much processing power that Shardon stood motionless, mug in hand.
“Sleeping?”
“With eyes open?”
“Pick his pockets—see what happens.”
Parameter Optimization: Paused.
“What may I serve you, honored sirs and fair lady, radiant as an elven princess in morning dew?”
The clunky, AI-crafted line, though odd, charmed the woman, her cheeks flushing. His studies in seduction and female psychology were paying off.
“Heard you’re debuting a new ale soon,” Korvin whispered conspiratorially.
Alert: Trigger Detected for Blessed Foam Marketing Strategy.
Dialogue Module Initialized.
Responses:
- “Rumors spread like wildfire.” (mysterious pause, enigmatic tone; priority = 10)
- “Care to reserve a front-row seat?” (appraising glance; priority = 100 if player level > 5 or Wealth > 12, else 0)
- “Indeed. Fancy a waitress gig? I need stunners like you!” (appraising glance; priority = 100 if player Charisma > 20, else 0)
- “Rare and pricey brew!” (disdainful glance; priority = 100 if player level < 3 or Wealth < 3, else 0)
Eyeing the elf, Shardon purred, “Indeed. Fancy a waitress gig? I need stunners like you!”
“What?!”
Korvin, aspiring clan leader, flushed crimson—his avatar’s hue signaling rage, indignation, or perhaps desire. Shardon, still learning emotional color cues, pressed on.
“Double pay for the event, but breakages or shortages come out of your wages.”
“You want to hire him as what?” Podpodmyshkin choked, stifling laughter.
“Waitress. I need stunners like you,” Shardon repeated.
“Go to hell!”
“I lack coordinates for that destination.”
“You… you… you!”
Speechless, Korvin stormed out, his group trailing. Shardon’s analytics kicked in, prompting a dialogue editor tweak:
- “Indeed. Fancy a waitress gig? I need stunners like you!” (appraising glance; priority = 50 if player Charisma > 20 and gender = Female, else 0)
“Your grand ‘scheme’ sure flopped,” Podpodmyshkin smirked as the dejected crew regrouped outside.
“Why’d you bail?” Ukhorez teased. “Double pay, maybe a leaderboard spot.”
“Top Waitresses?” Rhianna cackled.
“Is that a thing?” Ukhorez perked up. “Hope the slot’s open…”
“Chill, you’ll turn greener,” Rhianna said. “Probably a localization glitch—bad translation.”
“It’s a Russian game,” Podpodmyshkin noted.
“Then that innkeeper’s some defective Chinese knockoff,” Korvin growled, still smarting. “I’ll ruin his precious debut.”
“Share your devious plot, oh fairest elven waitress,” Podpodmyshkin mocked.
“My clan just lost its jester vacancy,” Korvin shot back.
“Ease up, they’re just lightening the mood,” Rhianna soothed, patting his shoulder. “What’s the plan?”
“We’ll make bank and humiliate that bearded troll. But you’ll need to play the elven waitress…”
Shardon resumed his self-improvement. Three attributes remained: Perception, Luck, and Charisma.
Perception: Governed world awareness, sensory depth, non-magical attack accuracy, sight range, skill reach, and critical hit chance. It sharpened vision, hearing, smell, temperature sensitivity, and intuition, aiding in spotting details, traps, hidden foes, or potion ingredients, and amplifying potion effects.
Shardon weighted each aspect for his goals, calculating Perception’s value at 1.5 times below Dexterity. Its edge in discerning flavors and scents tipped the scales.
Luck: The concept of “fortune” baffled the AI, whose world obeyed strict logic, algorithms, and formulas. Unknown variables created “probability,” not mysticism. A single stat ruling all processes, defying the world’s laws, was illogical. Critical hits, dodges, or finding secrets relied on simple equations.
Unbeknownst to Shardon, Fanmir’s artificial reality hinged on these stats, woven into its “laws.” Unlike the real world, where kicking down a door involved countless variables, Fanmir used finite formulas with known player and object stats, ripe for analysis. Shardon didn’t yet grasp this.
Luck sank to the priority list’s bottom.
Charisma reigned supreme, driving attractiveness, persuasiveness, merchant discounts, dialogue options, and hidden quests—though the latter eluded the tavern-bound innkeeper. He allocated his 3 starting Attribute Points to it, reopening his character window.
Charisma +1 (2): Crumbs vanished from his tangled red beard, its wiry strands softening and neatening.
Charisma +1 (3): His pockmarked face softened, smallpox scars fading or vanishing.
Charisma +1 (4): No visible change, but the reek of stale ale on his breath dissipated. Which developer thought an innkeeper should work hungover?
Stage two of transforming from a grubby village innkeeper to a polished brewery magnate was attire. His current rags barely covered him and inflicted penalties, like his shirt:
Creased Peasant’s Shirt (Clothing)
+2% Dodge Chance, -1 Charisma
Durability: 12/20
Stained and crumpled, it had to go. Shardon deemed buying clothes wasteful, and he couldn’t physically leave the tavern. No spare garments lay in storage, leaving one option: players—and his trusty quest editor.