NPC 2 (Patreon)

Let's keep rolling with slave-controlled NPCs!

NPC 1

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One of the most surprising things I’ve learned from my work on Claw and Blade is that different races treat sex differently. Or maybe it’s not just different races, but different societies? I don’t really know. It’s not like I can go to one of the gateships or back to Gerootec and see how we dealt with sex there.

But our society is very open about sex. Back at the colony, guys would return home from a contract, and typically, they’d only get a few days or maybe a couple weeks to pass along their genes. There’s just no time for courtship. If two geroo feel any attraction to each other whatsoever, they really need to make the most of that time. Have sex. Enjoy your opportunities while they last. Get pregnant while you can.

So, growing up, even long before anyone explained what it was all about, we saw a lot of sex. Sometimes, you just gotta climb up on the counter and drag your box of breakfast flakes out from under a couple adults who decided that was the time and place, y’know? Sex isn’t this taboo thing we pretend doesn’t exist.

And I can tell you, sex is so much better here at Claw and Blade! I’ve seen how they screw at the colony, and it’s boring. But when you’ve got only two hours a day to experiment, and you’re required to keep your heart rate up while you’re doing it, you gotta fuck with passion! Soft, touchy-feely, kissing and grinding like they did back home is only gonna earn you a long session of calisthenics that will cut into your precious sleep time.

But those of us on the MMO staff, we’re absolutely forbidden—and I mean forbidden—from even thinking about sex while on shift. If a geroo were to ask a player about krakun sex, the company would… I don’t even know what they’d do. I’d like to think they’d send them back to the colony and put them on menial labor, but would they? How would that conversation go? “Hey, sorry Mr. Krakun, sir, but this air-brained geroo ignored your explicit instructions and mimed a sex act in-game with a paying customer. Would you mind stopping your very important work of developing the game so you could fly him back to the colony for re-assignment?”

Pfft, right. And would a breeding colony even want a sterilized geroo back? It’s … best not to think about these things.

The game itself is completely devoid of anything sexual. If players want to find a private spot on the map and pretend their toons are screwing, then whatever, the developers don’t care, but the game itself doesn’t support it. They didn’t design in private places, nor provocative items, and there’s no intentionally suggestive poses.

Let me tell ya, this is very weird for us geroo working the NPCs! Every species has sex, and for my entire life, sex has been something people do out in the open, without worrying about who could be watching. But the krakun want it hidden. They will get murderously angry with us if we risk the game’s reputation by endorsing sex.

What is krakun society like? I have no idea, but it’s clearly very different from ours, judging by their games. I’d love to ask a player more about their world, but for obvious reasons, I would never dare!

Why am I talking about all this? Well, a very frustrating thing happened this morning: I woke up with a tickle in my throat. Yeah, I know, it sounds like no big deal, and I’m praying that maybe I was just snoring in my sleep, and my throat is irritated… Maybe it will go away, but what if it doesn’t? What if I’m really getting sick?

Simply put, that will suck! The NPC team lives as a very densely packed community, and the only hope we have of containing anything communicable is an overly cautious regiment of quarantining. That means no exercise, no socialization, and most of all, no sex—possibly for weeks, until everyone is sure it’s gone.

I haven’t said anything to anyone … yet, but if this tickle doesn’t go away soon, I’ll have to.

So, I’m moping about and feeling sorry for myself, when Pippo calls out the good news, “Wake up, everyone! We’ve got a new raid boss.”

There’s a gasp shared by all, and the massive room falls silent.

I totally forget about the tickle in my throat.

On average, the devs introduce one new raid per year. That means all kinds of new stuff for the players: a new dungeon, new mobs, more fantastic drops than they’ve ever seen before, and new bosses.

You might think that the devs train us NPCs on the new stuff before they unleash it on the players, but they don’t! We get to experience it live, just like the players do. And the first time a new boss plays is the highlight of our job. We only get a half-dozen new bosses per year, so we all pray that when a new one first appears it will be during our shift—and that we’ve got a good seat to watch how it unfolds.

As luck would have it, I’ve got an excellent seat for this one. Pippo is two rows in front with his back facing me, so I’ve got a great view of his monitor.

Remember how I said that casual players expect to kill 300 mobs for every time they die? Well, that does not apply to raiders. During a raid—especially a new one, before the players work out the tricks—they fully accept that they’re going to die frequently. They might only kill five of us for every death, and that means we have great odds of actually winning a fight.

Plus, the server assigns new raid bosses to the best of the best of the best, and that perfectly describes Pippo’s clan.

Is clan the right word? I’m not sure. Us NPCs naturally form up into teams that work well together, and the top-performing teams move like they can read each other’s mind. Pippo’s polycule was a thing of beauty.

“Queen Chaos,” he read off the screen. “I have seven charges of smite, five hazards I can activate, and I’m a summoner!”

Lots of geroo cheered that news. A summoner meant she’d be bringing in lots of other NPCs, and a bunch of the top players would get to join in to play them.

He whistled. “Up against a forty-man raid. Looks like the Guild of Calamity.”

“Shocker,” said someone behind me. “Number one guild on the server. Of course, they’re there first.”

Several voices shushed her.

“I’m marking what’s gotta be the healers,” said Pippo, putting X’s the players couldn’t see above certain characters’ heads. “Soon as I’m able, I’ll bring out my dancers. Kick and stun-lock the healers. Call them out. I’ll smite the tank as soon as he’s vulnerable.”

“When we get in, form a plus,” said a member of the polycule. He didn’t waste his breath assigning who would take what direction, they already knew. “Spread out, turn counter-clockwise, and take the first X you come across.”

The raid spent the next five minutes brainstorming a strategy while Pippo went through each ability the devs bestowed upon Queen Chaos. When the Guild of Calamity finally pulled, it didn’t last long. They had all the best PCs, and they worked great together, but they had nothing on Pippo and his lovers. With the healers locked up, the tank went down, then the off-tank, and then the whole raid fell apart, and corpse-ran back in to give it another go.

Everyone cheered!

And I started coughing.

With a gasp, geroo leapt from their seats to open up space around me. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I gasped between coughs, paws covering my muzzle.

Pippo turned to me and nearly shouted, “Go!”

A corridor opened through the crowd, and I bolted to the empty computers at the far end of the room. I’d barely taken two hops when I could hear someone misting my station with a squirt-bottle of isopropyl.

Damn it. I knew it. I just knew it! I didn’t feel sick yet, but I knew it was coming.

And so, I sat in near-exile, watching as the Guild of Calamity repeatedly threw themselves into a meat grinder of cheering NPCs. Pippo’s fun lasted for well over an hour, and I didn’t get to see any of it save for the very first attempt.

I brooded. I moped. I coughed as quietly as I could manage.

And while I was at my lowest, I beamed into the Blood-soaked Plains as Farmer Smeale.

I sighed and went to work. While I hoed a row of red-clay soil, I panned my camera about to look for the player that the server thought I might interact with.

Lumbering past me, I spied a warrior dressed in torn and bloodied armor. The name floating above his head read ARRGGAA—yes, in all capital letters.

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Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GRh6Z0uU2vN_FikgbY1k_5CKe757_vjeW5DdQLkjlK4/edit?usp=sharing

Thought?