Making Game: CH 154 – Caliburn Stage (Patreon)

The exact moment the massive holographic curtain dropped, the Round Table Studio team immediately sprang into action.

The production and merchandise corner, managed by Kasavin under his official codename Tristan, was the very first section to get swamped. A massive line formed within seconds. Eager attendees were desperate to buy the special merchandise and exclusive trading cards.

"Welcome, welcome!" Kasavin said with a highly polished retail smile. "Yes, this is a special expo release. Unfortunately, it is strictly limited to one item per buyer. We have to enforce this rule to make sure no scalping occurs on our watch."

On the other side of the expansive booth, Lin Liseli was just about to demonstrate the Caliburn VR seat features to a small crowd. Before she could start her presentation, a familiar voice called out over the ambient noise.

"Lin!"

She turned around and her eyes widened in pure shock. "Oh my stars! You guys are actually here!"

A group of her closest friends from the old Avalon forum days rushed forward. They shared a massive, joyful group hug right in the middle of the aisle. These were the very same artists she had met long before she ever worked at RTS. 

Now, they were all decked out in official studio merchandise. Every single one of these friends had contributed several beautiful illustrations for the Pokemon card. 

Some of them had even launched their own independent media projects and gained dedicated fans who specifically collected their unique card arts.

"Oh my, I genuinely thought you guys would come on the second day of the expo," Lin said, wiping a happy tear from her cheek.

"Of course we came early," one of the artists laughed loudly. "We must absolutely support the great Liseli. Oh, right, you are officially going by Bedivere while working on the floor, right?"

They all laughed together, feeling completely at ease. Lin puffed out her chest, adopting a highly smug expression as if she had personally built every single machine in the room. "Then I must personally introduce you all to the true future of gaming, my friends. Come, come! Follow me and see exactly how it works."

Meanwhile, Bem, operating under the codename Galahad, was struggling heavily on the opposite side of the display area. He was completely over-explaining the entire internal architecture of the machine, diving deep into the foundational code of the framework. He used such dense, technical jargon that the poor guest standing in front of him looked completely overloaded and ready to pass out.

Thankfully, Logan, known on the floor as Agravaine, stepped in to save the day.

"I think what my brilliant colleague is trying to say is that you can physically step into another world with our machine," Logan said with a warm, reassuring smile. "How about you give it a try?" He then flagged down a senior programmer walking by. "Please help our guest here get set up for a second."

Logan pulled Bem aside and kept his voice low. "Hey, what exactly is going on, man?"

Bem shifted his weight, looking incredibly fidgety and nervous. "I really don't know. I just felt like if I stopped talking for even a second, they would completely lose interest."

Logan placed a heavy, grounding hand on Bem's shoulder and gave it a firm massage. "You got this, man. So what if they lose interest? Just explain the surface level. Focus strictly on the things they can see on the outside."

Bem exhaled a shaky breath, took a single step forward, and immediately turned back around. "I genuinely don't know how to do that."

Logan chuckled softly. "Just talk to them exactly like you talk to Liseli."

A sudden spark of realization clicked in Bem's eyes. He stood up straighter, nodded firmly, and turned back to face the crowd with renewed confidence.

Just as Bem found his rhythm, Lin walked past Logan, waving her group of friends toward an open row of empty seats.

"Who are they?" Logan asked.

"They're my friends," Lin replied with a bright smile. "What were you two talking about just now?"

Logan smiled back and waved his hand dismissively. "Just some standard team encouragement, that is all."

With the minor crisis averted, Logan returned to his technical station. He spent the rest of the hour meticulously maintaining the hardware and resetting the system software after each guest finished their immersive trial run.

…

The Round Table Studio booth was completely mobbed. All twenty Caliburn units ran continuously without a single moment of rest, and the crowd only grew denser as word spread across the exhibition floor.

Whenever a session concluded and an attendee was gently told their fifteen minutes had expired, they reluctantly climbed out of the leather seat. Instead of leaving to check out other corporate exhibits, a surprising number of them marched straight to the back of the line to queue up all over again.

Near the center row, senior programmer Liorin stood beside unit seven, patiently guiding an attendee through the onboarding process. Her guest was a stocky, broad-shouldered Neman with heavy iron rings woven into his braided beard.

Liorin gestured toward the contoured back of the chair. "We start with the adaptive headrest. Once you settle in and signal engagement, a lightweight sensor visor slides forward from the inner housing, sweeping across from ear to ear."

The Neman frowned, his thick brow furrowing as he stroked his chin. "Will that contraption yank on my beard or catch on my braids?"

Knowing the deep cultural and ancestral pride Nemans placed in their woven beards, Liorin offered a reassuring smile. "Not at all. The internal tracking array uses non-contact optical sweeps and magnetic tensioners. It automatically calibrates to any cranial circumference and hair volume, wrapping comfortably around your temples without catching a single strand."

The guest crossed his heavy arms, eyeing the sleek frame with lingering skepticism. "Do I need to place a custom order for a specialized Neman model? Most core tech companies expect folks built like me to pay triple for heavy-frame modifications."

"We will offer dedicated commercial variations tailored for specific individual when the consumer line ships," Liorin replied. "However, the baseline model you see here was engineered to accommodate ninety-eight percent of Accord body types without aftermarket conversion kits."

A soft chime signaled from the base panel. Kade, a junior systems designer who had been running the reset routine and fine-tuning the pneumatic bolsters, gave Liorin a firm thumbs-up.

"As you can see, the clearance is already set," Liorin said, extending a welcoming hand. "Would you like to give it a spin?"

The Neman gave a low grunt of agreement and hoisted his bulk into the chair. The memory cushioning yielded gently beneath him before firming up to support his posture. "What exactly should I expect once this thing switches on?"

"The seat performs a preliminary micro-scan across your temples to detect any active neuro-implants," Liorin explained. "If you have augmentation hardware, the firmware simply asks for handshake permission to route sensory feeds through standard optic protocols, exactly like any standard headgear."

The Neman let out a booming laugh. "Hah! My skull is uncarved, and my brain functions perfectly fine on its own."

Liorin smiled. "Then all you have to do is close your eyes, relax your shoulders, and let the system carry you somewhere else."

The Neman rested his head against the cushion. With a faint mechanical whisper, the curved visor deployed from the recessed frame, gliding smoothly over his brow without touching his braided hair. A soothing harmonic frequency hummed softly beside his ears, tempting his eyelids to flutter open.

At that exact second, the physical exhibition hall vanished.

Pure, brilliant white flooded his vision. For an instant, he felt entirely weightless, suspended in quiet suspension. Three crystalline chimes echoed around him.

Then the physical world came rushing in with startling clarity.

Coarse, cool blades of prairie grass brushed against the palms of his hands. A warm, golden breeze ruffled through his tunic, carrying the sharp scent of damp soil and blooming clover. Warm sunlight beat against the skin of his neck, completely indistinguishable from standing under an open sky on an untamed rim world.

He blinked against the midday glare, discovering he was kneeling in the middle of a vast, rolling green meadow that stretched toward distant purple mountains.

A soft rustling sound caught his attention. He glanced down near his boots and froze.

A small creature covered in plush brown fur was nuzzling happily against his left ankle, emitting a quiet, rhythmic purr.

He stared at the tiny beast. It was an Eevee, the exact creature his youngest daughter had spent the last two months chattering about at the dinner table.

Slowly, carefully, he reached down with his thick, calloused hands. His fingers sank into deep, silky fur. The warmth of the animal's body heat and the gentle pulse of its heartbeat transferred straight through his skin.

A broad smile broke across his face.

Then a sudden shock of cognitive dissonance jolted his mind. He knew this had to be an artificial construct, yet every nerve ending in his body reported absolute physical reality.

A massive shadow fell across the meadow, plunging the grass into momentary shade. He snapped his head toward the heavens.

High above the clouds, a colossal green serpentine dragon wreathed in shimmering gold markings carved effortlessly through the atmosphere. The sheer scale of Rayquaza took the breath right out of his chest. The low rumble of its passage reverberated through his ribs like distant thunder.

"What in the hells?" the Neman whispered, his voice cracking with genuine awe. "Am I even on Luprime anymore?"

He stood up, turning in a slow circle. Little clusters of wild Pokémon moved across the plains, each reacting to the ambient wind and shifting shadows with seamless, organic behavior. 

The only clue tying him to reality was a tiny, translucent command widget floating silently above his left wrist. Aside from that solitary interface, the sensory fidelity was flawless. 

If this level of tactile presence, thermal balance, and biological resonance could be conjured from a machine, he wondered where the boundary between simulation and true life actually lay.

Before he could take another step toward the treeline, the wrist widget flashed a gentle amber notification. His trial period had reached its limit.

"Wait, give me five more minutes," he muttered urgently, tapping at the air.

The software did not negotiate. The grassy meadow dissolved into soft, calming white light, and the gentle harmonic chimes chimed in reverse.

The visor retracted into the headrest with a quiet click.

The Neman sat bolt upright in the Caliburn seat. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as if he had just sprinted across an open field. His hands gripped the armrests, his pupils wide as his senses struggled to readjust to the bustling clamor and sterile lighting of the Luprime convention center.

He locked eyes with Liorin. "Tell me straight. Can two of these units talk to each other over a network?"

Liorin smiled warmly, entirely used to the disoriented wonder in first-time users. "More than two, sir. You can establish encrypted private lobbies across systems and invite anyone you want into shared space."

The Neman stared at her for two solid seconds. He reached deep into the pocket of his heavy coat, pulled out a thick card forged from brushed dark steel, and pressed it directly into Liorin's palm.

Liorin looked down at the engraved silver lettering: Grokk Stonebeard, CEO of Stonebeard Heavy Industries.

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up, her eyes wide with shock. This was Grokk Stonebeard, the legendary industrial magnate who had industrialized three separate Neman core colonies and almost single-handedly revolutionized orbital smelting across their native home planet.

…

On the opposite side of the sprawling exhibition booth, the pneumatic hiss of a Caliburn seat signaled the end of another trial session. The sleek visor retracted smoothly into the headrest. Nehsy blinked rapidly, her dark eyes adjusting to the harsh artificial lighting of the expo floor.

Horus immediately stepped forward and offered his synthesized hand. He gently gripped her forearm and helped her stand up from the immersive chair.

Wren, the junior designer assigned to their station, flashed a bright, polite smile. "Thank you so much for trying out our product today! There is a wide selection of exclusive merchandise and physical albums from our games right by the exit. I hope you and your wife have a truly wonderful evening."

Horus offered a stiff, practiced nod of acknowledgment. They turned and joined the slow current of attendees exiting the trial zone.

As they walked, Horus kept his voice pitched to a barely audible whisper. "Tell me you are thinking exactly what I am thinking."

Nehsy rubbed her temples. "The presenter used entirely too many technical words I do not understand. Neural pathing and biometric synchronization just sound like noise to me."

Horus leaned closer. "Did you actually feel it?"

Nehsy glanced at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Feel what?"

"The ringing," Horus clarified, his eyes wide with a quiet, suppressed intensity. "There was a very faint harmonic frequency inside that simulation. It completely nulled out our dormant throats."

The Dagmani biology possessed unique vocal and sensory traits that went dormant upon adulthood, but it's power still there if one pushed enough. If a simple gaming rig could interface with their dormant neural pathways so seamlessly, the medical implications were staggering.

Nehsy stopped walking. "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?"

Horus spoke quickly before she could dismiss the thought. "I'm suggesting it. It's entirely a gut feeling right now. But what if… Just what if we can use this machine to pull Ula back from his nightmare?"

Nehsy let out a long, heavy breath. "You are still obsessing over him."

Horus gripped her hand tightly, his synthetic fingers squeezing her palm. "He saved us. He threw himself into the fire to help our people."

"He only helped us because he desperately needed our assistance to rebuild his comm array," Nehsy countered, her voice tight with complicated emotions. "He just wanted to contact his benefactor."

"Yet that detail hardly diminishes what he went through," Horus argued. "He still spoke up for us. He fought tooth and nail so his group could protect our kind."

Nehsy looked down at the polished floor tiles, unable to meet his gaze.

Horus wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "Remember exactly what their medic told us. The only way to save him is if we could find a secure way to safely isolate his brain, put his physical body into a deep medical stasis, and then slowly train his mind to unpeel the heavy layers of that trauma."

Nehsy finally looked up, her expression filled with a sorrowful clarity. "Do you feel this immense guilt because the Accord used the agonizing cries of our younglings to torture him?"

Horus froze. The raw truth of her statement hit him like a physical blow.

Nehsy softened her tone. "It's terrible what happened to your friend. However, it is fundamentally the Stellar Accord that committed the atrocity. It is entirely their fault they weaponized the unique abilities of our kind to break his mind."

Horus swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "Regardless of who is to blame, we now have a possible way to fix him."

Nehsy followed his gaze across the crowded room. "Are you seriously going to walk up and ask them for their possibly multi-million credit machine?"

Horus stared directly at Arthur. Laughing brightly as he explained the hardware specifications and signed autographs for a swarm of adoring fans.

"If he is a true follower of Bepoo, then we share the exact same spiritual ground to work with," Horus stated with absolute conviction. "We have leverage."

The two disguised High Priests stood silently near the merchandise racks, their eyes firmly locked onto Arthur's figure.

But they were certainly not the only ones plotting from the shadows of the convention floor. Tucked away in the shadows of a nearby structural pillar, Mizah gnawed nervously at her thumbnail. Her gaze remained rigidly locked onto Logan across the bustling exhibition floor. 

Her mind was caught in a rapid, uncontrollable spiral. She could see exactly what that machine was doing. It was a fully functional virtual reality system operating entirely without invasive injections. Users were simply laying back against a cushioned rest, and somehow, they were experiencing absolute neural immersion.

This was impossible without stolen foundations. She convinced herself this was entirely his fault. He had to have based this architecture off of something else. Then the realization hit her hard. It was her own research. He had stolen another classified project, and this time, the victim was her.

Yet as she watched Logan smiling warmly and charmingly explaining the hardware mechanics to a passing family, a painful memory surfaced. She was reminded once again of exactly how kind he used to be. Even on the terrible afternoon he was forcibly kicked out of the Ministry, he had still used his own credits to buy the entire team cups of warm brewka one last time.

Mizah violently shook her head, forcing the memory away. She repeated the strict warnings Senior Eevlas had drilled into her. Logan Kim is a master manipulator. He wears a flawless mask of kindness solely to extract the biggest benefits for himself.

"Mizah, are you there?" a voice called out.

She snapped out of her daze and blinked rapidly. "Yeah, what's up?"

Her Ministry colleague wore a grim expression. "It's bad. The department head just rounded us up and called everyone back to our break room."

Mizah could see exactly what had happened. The very same VR machine that directly competed with their department had completely stolen their spotlight on the main floor, exactly like how Logan had stolen her research.

Mizah hardened her expression. "Let's go."

…

The first day of the Stellar Tech Expo officially concluded as smooth sailing on the surface. The massive crowds filtered out into the Luprime evening, and the Round Table Studio team began their journey back to the hotel.

Lin Liseli stretched her arms high above her head and let out a massive yawn. "I desperately want to have a nice, long bath. Maybe I will order a massive bubble bath for the tub."

Bem rubbed his exhausted eyes. "I just want to feel the soft sheets of my bed."

Logan chuckled, adjusting his jacket. "Thank the stars Raja decided against skimping out on the hotel budget. My feet are absolutely killing me."

"Even if we did skimp out, the company money is still flowing heavily in our direction," Raja noted with a calm smile. "We might as well enjoy the comfort."

Kasavin glanced nervously back toward the convention center doors. "Are you sure it's alright leaving our machines inside the booth?"

Arthur offered a relaxed, confident grin. "Don't worry at all. Gawain is a highly reliable guard."

He kept his smile perfectly casual. In truth, his Eagle Vision had actively scanned a massive amount of hostility directed toward their booth throughout the day. 

He had secretly left Hermes behind to scout the perimeter from the shadows. The invisible Gengar and Dusclops were physically guarding the Caliburn units, while Gawain was actively recording every single visual feed to monitor the area. 

Arthur wanted to see who would dare mess with their property. Identifying their early enemies right now would provide incredible leverage he could hold against them in the future.

Arthur stopped near the edge of the pedestrian walkway. "You know what, guys? I think I will just walk the rest of the way."

Raja raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"Hundred percent," Arthur replied. "I just want to feel the Luprime night air and clear my head."

Luprime was the absolute academic center of the Stellar Accord. Heavily armed Legion troopers patrolled the pristine surface streets every single night. The core team knew Arthur was also not an ordinary Solar, meaning he was more than capable of protecting himself.

They all waved from the curb. "Don't be late tomorrow morning!"

Arthur waved back and began to walk down the illuminated sidewalk, whistling a quiet tune and enjoying the peaceful night to himself. He kept his pace steady for several blocks before suddenly veering off the main path and stepping into a dark, narrow alleyway.

He turned around instantly and stopped. "Reveal yourself. I know you have been eyeing me all evening."

He scanned the shadows. A soft rustle of fabric echoed against the brick walls. Two figures slowly stepped out into the dim streetlight. It was Horus and Nehsy.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, pushing his focus entirely into his Eagle Vision. A wave of confusion washed over him. His heightened senses didn't detect a single ounce of hostility from either of them. Why would they go through the trouble of following him?

Horus took a cautious step forward and lowered his hood. "We are from Asgard… And we need to talk."

The name struck Arthur like a bolt of lightning. His mind raced frantically. Asgard was a mythological pantheon he had never made a game or story about in this specific universe. He stared at the two strangers, a single, impossible question echoing in his mind.

'Were they from Earth just like me?'