Flor walked to the next platform. An anteater was building something out of blocks. The blocks would stack and then slide into the ground like wet sand, but the anteater seemed happier and happier each time.

  As Flor walked up, the anteater looked up with the grin of a spoiled child. It reached down to pick something up and moved to throw it at Flor. Flor’s interface flashed and the combat gem game was there. She quickly swapped a blue for a green. The object flew past her and Flor realized she felt contempt for this little bastard who reminded her of a spoiled child left alone on a sandy beach. She combined three red and three blue gems and rushed forward. The anteater built a little assembled tower, which Flor punched right through. The assembled sand exploded everywhere, but Flor punched with enough force that she continued through into the anteater’s face. A look of surprise, that determination overcame, and the anteater grinned and reached back into the ground.

  Flor saw a five-red combine, joined them, and kicked down the tower, then punched where she thought the stupid grinning face would be. The anteater had moved to the side, grinning, but Flor twisted around and backhanded the stupid grin in the face. The anteater went derp and disappeared.

  Combat complete. +1 to Combat.

  Attempt again? Yes/No?

  Am I lucky or good? Probably lucky. She went into her interface to check her coins. She had earned twenty-five coins in the tower and several additional loot items. If Kester was correct, she still needed four times as many coins to fully upgrade her equipment.

  “They’re penalizing solo play,” she thought aloud.

  Perhaps that was it. As expected for a dungeon grind, this tower seemed to get progressively harder. There were ways to make it easier, which meant more people, better equipment, or being at a higher level.

  “Kester?”

  The chipmunk popped its head up from her vest pocket, “I’m not coming out. What?”

  “This has gotten too hard. Why is it so much harder without a team?”

  The little head looked up at her, sank its shoulders, and said, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  Flor nodded yes.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Kester rubbed his face with his little hands in exasperation. “This isn’t a solo adventure. You aren’t meant to find solutions by yourself.”

  “I have a team.”

  “You have a loose collection of people you met that you don’t interact with.”

  “But I have…” It was an effort to not mention Alastair’s name, “…Sparks.”

  “I wish I could be straightforward and tell you the answer because my existence weakens daily.”

  “Oh, just do it.”

  The chipmunk fidgeted more. Reluctantly, it said, “You have a disposition with other people. Use them.”

  “Use the people?”

  “Yeah. Ask them to do things for you.”

  “Like what? Build me extra pylons?”

  “Yes but no. It’s the right idea, just the wrong context,” said Kester.

  “Do I have a disposition menu?”

  “A basic one, yes. As part of your Lore interface.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what? You can look at it whenever you like.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No. That’s not one I’m set to read out. You can look.”

  “You’re an unpleasant rodent sometimes. And what do you mean your existence weakens?” said Flor, calling on her interface. She sat on the steps between platforms on the five-sided floor of the carillon.

  “That was drama,” Kester answered.

  The interface came up, and Flor shifted it to the Lore section. She selected the People subsection.

  Kester said, “You have a positive disposition with Horace, Nikolette, and Irving. Why don’t you ask them to help you figure out your life.”

  “Don’t tell me I have to farm or fish in this,” said Flor. “I shouldn’t have to fish in every game I play.”

  “What do you mean?” said Kester.

  “Somewhere along the way, every game had some stupid fishing sidequest. Or a stupid farming sidequest. Or a stupid romance sidequest. Or a stupid cooking sidequest. It…Alastiar explains it better. But, these stupid mini-games distract from real gameplay. Games became distractions rather than immersive environments. Not…unlike what is happening here.

  “I’m wandering around, objectiveless, and only have distractions to lead me on. Real life does that enough. I want…I demand something deeper. A gameplay that challenges me, not just to climb some stupid carillion to get to the next level, but a game that gives me a narrative reason to get to the next level.”

  “I can’t help you there.”

  “You haven’t helped me much at all.”

  Kester seemed affronted. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t give me hints for what to do, you only tell me what I could figure out myself. You’re a shortcut.”

  Kester took his top hat off his head and held it in his hands. He brushed it off, put the hat behind him, and then turned around and ran away.

  “Kester!?”

  The chipmunk didn’t answer.

  She needed a different sort of objective. She couldn’t go toward the Monastery or the Farms since Alastair was possibly there. That left the Keep, but she didn’t have information about it.

  Flor - Sparks: What’s the Keep? Why does it frighten everyone?

  Not expecting an immediate response, Flor decided to see what she could find. Kester wasn’t much help, other than telling her the obvious, but maybe that would be reasonable…

  “Kester, can you establish a perimeter and warn me that I’ll be attacked?”

  “Not within my perimeters. Unfortunately, you take the first hit if you aren’t perceptive.”

  “So I shouldn’t sit on these stairs to think deep thoughts. Where is my closest safe space?”

  “The Angry Onion. You could get attacked on the streets.”

  Well, at least he’s still answering direct questions.