Open Beta: Pixelate, #3

By Xavier P. Hunter

They thought they knew the game. It knew them better.

Connor and Dizzy have a problem. The game has rebooted yet again. Their names have been stolen, and they're limited to the advanced classes they earned last time around. On top of that, the beta version of Spires of Fate had enabled worldwide PVP combat. It's going to be the two of them not just against the world, but against the rest of the player base, too.

But they know the game. They've got the experience. And the goal hasn't changed: get to the top and slay the Mountain Lord. And no dirty tricks by the developers are going to stop them.

Open Beta is the 3rd book in the Pixelate series. Pixelate is a LitRPG fantasy series that follows the adventures of Arnold O'Connor as his digital self, delving into the secrets of a world that feels as real as his own body. The Pixelate series will appeal to fans of classic tabletop RPGs, World of Warcraft, and Lord of the Rings Online. It touches on themes of self and reality, style vs. stats, and how to kill dragons through the superior application of math.

It's a book you won't be able to log out of! Grab a copy and try for yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Magical Scrivener Press
• Release date: Jun 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9781643556130

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

UNBOXING

Moving always made a mess. Arnold O’Connor had switched apartments a few times. This was so much worse. Boxes from the apartment. Empty cardboard from stuff they’d bought for the house that the apartment never could have fit. Baby shower gifts. Housewarming gifts. Arnold picked his way gingerly through a basement where he could never picture there being the den they’d talked about remodeling.

He leaned and pushed and lifted flaps, reading labels written in black magic marker on the sides in Izzy’s sloppy penmanship; she had picked the right career in medicine.

There. Under the box labeled COLLECTIBLES VOL. 3 was another marked EXTRA GAMING STUFF. Arnold rearranged everything until he had the box he wanted stacked on top of a stable surface—a crate of Izzy’s undergrad textbooks—and tore off the packing tape.

Inside, bundled in among the Playstations 3 and 4, an old Steam Deck, and a rat’s nest of USB and HDMI cables, were a pair of unopened brown cardboard boxes with an understated Anachronism Interactive logo. They’d arrived months ago with a little note from Kelli. Arnold brushed away a layer of dust and moving-box grime and toted them back upstairs.

You find them? Izzy asked as soon as the door closed behind him, before she could see for herself.

Got ’em! Arnold announced, keeping his voice low enough that Ramon wouldn’t wake up. They had the baby monitor in his room, even though he was pushing three, and a gate across the top of the stairs in case they didn’t react quickly enough.

Izzy waited for him on the couch, feet up on the coffee table with a throw pillow under them. She offered him little A.J.—Arnold Jr.—once he set down the boxes. Arnold transferred his younger son into the bassinet in the living room as Izzy started opening the first of the boxes.

Inside, she discovered a helmet. She scowled at it. White. Glossy. It straddled the line between medical and cyberpunk. Wonder if I’ll need to put my contacts in.

Lately, she hadn’t been bothering. With a new baby waking up at all hours, she’d just been fumbling around with her glasses. The contacts had just been too much work.

If you’re not feeling up for this… Arnold gave her an easy out. They could play with their own toys whenever. In a few months, they could get a sitter, foist the kids onto eager grandparents, or simply hold off until both kids were sleeping through the night.

Izzy shook her head. I’m not missing the launch.

Arnold opened his headset. Izzy was already well into the instruction manual and hooking hers up. By the time Arnold finished the pre-startup portion of his, Izzy was back from putting in her contacts.

Hey. Look at you!

It said it corrects for visual impairment, but I’d rather just not deal with the extra setup.

They plopped down, side-by side on the couch. Each held one of the headsets in their lap, tethered to their PCs and external power by an anaconda of cables.

Izzy stared down at hers. The helmets opened front-to back with an adjustable chin strap. Hers was smaller, sized for a petite head. Arnold’s was a medium, based on what scale, who knew? But they came from Anachronism Interactive, so it was a given that they knew how big a head each of them had.

Second thoughts? Arnold asked when neither of them put theirs on.

Izzy tapped a padded bumper designed to rest against the base of the skull. This bit still weirds me out. Based on everything they’d heard, the headset would be intercepting brain signals, not just reading them. They’d move in-game instead of in the real world.

I’ll go first. If I don’t die, come on in after me, Arnold joked. After all, it wasn’t just the chivalrous play. If anything went wrong with her, he’d be calling 9-1-1. Izzy might not have been a doctor yet or anything, but she had way more medical training, both theoretical and practical, than Arnold ever expected to obtain.

Arnold wiggled his helmet snugly onto his head. A whirr of inflation tightened it all around, from forehead down to that curved bumper nestling at the top of his spine. He tightened the chin strap. Wish me luck. He wriggled into a comfortable position on the couch, rested his head back, and flipped down the front half of the helmet.

Click.

A screen with higher resolution than his eyes extended around and beyond his peripheral vision. If Izzy was asking anything, he couldn’t hear it. Soft musical chimes of a startup sequence soothed him at a subconscious level.

WELCOME TO ANACHRONISM INTERACTIVE ADVANCED VIRTUAL REALITY

A swirl of menu options presented themselves.

HELP

SYSTEM

OPTIONS

LOGIN

He just wanted to see whether this thing was working properly, so he jumped right in.

Log in.

A brief tingle at the back of his neck and a rapid series of flashing lights caught Arnold off guard. His body disconnected. The couch, the new house, the city of Austin, and all of Earth fell away around him.

CHAPTER 2

NEW CHARACTER

STARTUP SEQUENCE: 1%

The number climbed rapidly, a comforting glowing blue system font on a backdrop of terrifying endless void. When it reached 100, a new message replaced it.

CALIBRATION

This time, a simple circular swipe marked the process.

CALIBRATION COMPLETE

CALIBRATION 100% SYNC

Well, that was quick. Then again, Anachronism was using his brain as a baseline for these calibrations for all he knew.

YOUR GAMING EXPERIENCE WILL BE … OPTIMAL.

HAVE FUN AND ENJOY YOUR ADVENTURE IN SPIRES OF FATE

Orchestral music rose. Pressure under his feet told Arnold that he was standing. Then, he could feel that it was sand beneath his feet. A salt breeze filled his lungs. Visuals faded in; first a logo version of Spires of Fate with a subtitle of Open Beta, then a secluded section of beach, surrounded by ancient marble columns. Beyond, rocky cliff walls prevented him from going anywhere unless he intended to swim.

Arnold found himself clad in a breechcloth, a medieval form of bathing suit. Warm air wafted over exposed skin everywhere else.

Between one pair of pillars, an ornate mirror, framed in filigreed gold, beckoned.

Arnold regarded his reflection. He was basic. Barely more than a mannequin.

Reaching out, he touched the reflective surface. A menu popped up.

EYES

EARS

NOSE

CHEEKS

HAIR

RESET

He spent several minutes getting the face right. It wasn’t his face, but it fit a general theme of faces he made in various games.

He tapped the mirror on his chest and was able to adjust his broader physical characteristics. Nothing overboard. Nothing grotesque. He knew how Izzy liked him looking and aimed to please. This digital version of Arnold got to the gym more often, didn’t cheat on his diet, and could maybe bench fifty or eighty pounds more, but it was basically just a more diligent, fitness-oriented Arnold.

Also, knowing that Anachronism Interactive was not above adult content in their games, he took a peek under the breechcloth and maxed out down there as well.

Then, he located the FINISH button and advanced to the next stage.

The mirror went dark. Six low pedestals appeared around him. Each bore a golden plaque with the name of a typical fantasy class, and the starting equipment for that class hanging as if from an invisible armor stand and weapon rack.

RANGER - A ranged attacker preferring bows and guns, but still capable of hand-to-hand fighting.

The outfit smacked of Hollywood adaptations of Robin Hood, and not the better ones. But from the leather work to the stitching on the fabric, everything was gorgeously rendered.

CLERIC - Healer specializing in outlasting foes and saving allies. Some hand-to-hand and magical combat skills.

The dullest of all RPG roles, Arnold knew he couldn’t go through a whole game playing a healer. Not even for Izzy. He’d get bored. She’d pick up on it and ask whether he was only playing so she could have fun. He’d be forced to admit that he was, since he couldn’t lie to her. It would be the Warcraft Debacle all over again.

KNIGHT - A hand-to-hand combatant emphasizing defense and one-on-one combat.

The armor was Medieval Times stuff. Nice. Not, like, crazy RPG armor, but something that looked like it would turn aside arrows and thrown rocks and get smooshed like tin foil if a dragon stepped on it.

BARD - Charm friend and foe alike. Musical magic helps or harms, at the bard’s direction.

The outfit wasn’t jester’s motley, but it was something along the line of Arthurian Motley Crue. Garish. Over-the-top. Meant to draw the eye, if not garner widespread approval. He assumed that the lute would come with instructions since he couldn’t imagine a large enough population of players would come in with that knowledge.

However, he’d be playing with Izzy, and she’d made it clear on no small number of occasions that his singing posed a hazard to pets and small children.

ASSASSIN - A stealthy combatant that relies on attacking unsuspecting or distracted foes.

Nice of them not to sugarcoat a rogue class. It made players sound like they were just devil-may-care nonconformists rather than brutal criminals. The ninja pajama look was one of those Mandela Effect historical things, but it’s what everyone expected. If Arnold had to guess, that’s the class Izzy was going to pick.

WIZARD - Magical attacker. Specializes in ranged and area damage. High utility. Low defense.

Speaking of pajamas, the blast-o-mancer of the bathrobe brigade offered robes in a Jedi kind of brown and a walking stick that looked as magical as firewood.

Smirking, Arnold ambled over to the Ranger.

He remembered his wedding vows. One of the lines he’d written was, All new paths in life, we’ll blaze together. If there was one class meant for blazing new trails and exploring unknown lands, it was Ranger.

When Arnold hopped onto the platform, he couldn’t touch any of the outfit. It all looked his size, even floating in place at all the right heights…

Snickering, he figured it out quick enough. Turning and standing just where the clothes hung, they latched on and became substantial around him. When he grasped the bow, it came loose of its ethereal moorings.

A voice boomed, and Arnold recognized the voice actress immediately. He couldn’t believe they’d gotten the woman who did the English dub of Shin from Princess of Twelve Bells.

STATE THY NAME, HERO, AND THUSLY YE SHALL BE KNOWN THROUGHOUT THE REALM.

Same as every game. I am CONNOR!

The character creation zone dissolved around him.

CHAPTER 3

THE CONNOR PARADOX

Connor appeared on a beach, surrounded by marble columns. Beyond the columns to one side, towering cliffs blocked his escape. To the other side, the placid ocean lapped lazily at the sand.

Where the HELL had they sent him THIS time?

Where was Dizzy? Where was lunch? Where was the freakin’ REAL WORLD?

He walked up to the character creation mirror and punched it. All that happened was a menu popping up.

EYES

EARS

NOSE

CHEEKS

HAIR

RESET

He already looked like himself. There was nothing to change. Gritting his teeth in frustration at starting this whole damn game over from scratch AGAIN, Connor tapped until the mirror let him complete his appearance without making any changes.

He pointed to the sky. You people are REALLY pissing me off!

The six standard pedestals appeared before him. However, only one of them had a class.

Knight.

That was his only option. The other classes weren’t grayed out. There weren’t even plaques to say what should have been there.

He was having none of it.

REPORT BUG

Five of the classes are missing. I know the genre is ROLE-PLAYING but there’s an implication that it’s ROLES-PLAYING. Roles. Plural. Options. Decisions. All that good stuff. I’ll wait while you fix it.

Connor waited.

He waited some more.

He stood in the surf, bare feet washed by gentle waves as the sand sucked from below them.

He walked back to the mirror.

It was hard to make out his reflection. Now that he was done with creating his appearance, the glass was smoky black, like a tinted car window. No, he decided after an inspection, this was what he should look like.

There was still no answer on the bug front.

Seriously? Knight? He called out, still hoping someone from the dev team was listening in. Wandering up to the new starting outfit, he nodded his approval. Black lacquer. Gold filigree. It was a huge upgrade over the simple suit of beat-up gray steel he’d dealt with before. And the sword that came with it.

He’d hardly given it a second glance before venting his frustration at the limited option.

Connor could hardly believe his eyes.

The Ravager’s Sword!

Who in their right mind was letting him start the game with that thing?

Connor knelt and inspected the sword more closely. It looked right. Maybe it was cosmetic. Simple enough swap, right? Point a variable to an appearance they’d already generated.

Then again, now that he looked even closer, it WAS different. Higher resolution. Frankly, Connor couldn’t tell that he wasn’t looking at a real sword. Whatever they were using, the pixels were too small to make out.

Maybe this was his new boon? Like getting to start with the Map-Maker’s Waystone last time. Except this would be a WAY better bonus to start off with.

Still kneeling, Connor once more addressed the heavens. This doesn’t make it OK. You know that, right?

He climbed the low pedestal. He stood in the Knight’s armor. He lifted the Ravager’s Sword.

A voice boomed, oddly familiar yet unidentifiable.

STATE THY NAME, HERO, AND THUSLY YE SHALL BE KNOWN THROUGHOUT THE REALM.

Oh, we’re back to asking again? I am CONNOR!

THOU SHALT BE KNOWN BY A DIFFERENT NAME. THAT NAME IS RESERVED.

Fuck. He should have known better than to convince them to name that damn bridge after him. Now he was stuck with a name the game wanted to keep off-limits to players.

One of the others must have reported the suspicious similarity last time. He blamed Mauly. She seemed like the sort.

He needed something that sounded kind of similar. Something maybe a little more fantasy than his old gaming handle.

I am KONROH!

The character creation zone dissolved around him.

CHAPTER 4

ISLAND TIME

Arnold could hardly believe his eyes. This whole world was utterly realistic. By the look of the sand and the height of the surf, this was likely somewhere on the same island where he’d created his new character. He could scoop the sand and let it run between his fingers, brush off the remaining grains that clung to him on his trousers. The ferns, or whatever they were, at the jungle’s edge had veins and rustled and snapped when tugged too hard.

All this…

ALL THIS was running on computers somewhere. Some of it in his headset. Some of it on the PC a few feet away. The rest on Anachronism Interactive servers across town.

Utterly real. Utterly believable.

A light orchestral score that served as a soothing background to the environment was the only real clue that Arnold wasn’t still out in the real world right now.

Well, that and the UI.

It was all stuff that came rushing back into his memory, stuff he’s packed away in deep storage from those few weird weeks all those years ago. Before he really knew Izzy. Before Ramon and A.J. Before he’d gotten his shit together.

Minimap. Menu button. An insulting little XP indicator telling him he was Level 1 with 0 XP earned so far.

What did XP matter when just strolling the beach was an experience? So what if he was dressed like a high-school theater production version of Robin Hood? So what if he had a bow strung and slung over his shoulder? This was AMAZING technology. And he’d been a part of helping feed this game the raw data it needed to make believable characters for players to interact with. Not just idle chitchat, either, supposedly, but advanced combat learning algorithms.

Well, even on a real beach, there was only so much you could do just standing around. There was nothing to drink here. The orchestra wasn’t exactly playing his jam. And Arnold doubted that his avatar really needed to work on his tan.

He followed the well-marked path and ventured into the jungle.

Along the way, little creatures peeked from the underbrush or gawked down from palm trees. All the animals were stuffed animals. Gorgeous plush fur and cat-toy feathers and eyes made of beads or buttons or felt. They moved like animatronics, awkward and halting, but perfectly in keeping with how such animals looked like they should move.

It seemed almost sacrilegious, but this WAS still a game. Arnold readied his bow and…

He had no arrows.

Well, so much for taking a few practice shots before the real monsters started appearing. Not that he expected the process to be difficult, but he tested the pull on his bow, just to see how much effort it would be.

As soon as he put his fingers on the string, an arrow appeared for him.

Neat. Well, that’s just handy as hell.

A tiny fairy flew across the path in front of Arnold and hovered just within arm’s reach from his face. She was blue and faintly transparent and trailed glittery sparkles. And she would probably result in a few mouse-originated cease-and-desist emails before this game went to full retail release.

"In Spires of Fate, we prefer to use family-friendly language. Others who choose to filter vulgarity or do not have mature content enabled may misunderstand you due to the garbling effect on cursing…"

Thank you, tiny fairy. I’ll try to keep it kid-friendly.

"You’re welcome, Connor. My name is Kelindra, and I’ll be your little helper throughout your time in Spires of Fate. If you need any help, just ask, or select HELP from your main menu."

Actually, that brings up an interesting question. Is my account enabled for adult content? Just listening to Izzy’s no-kids-around commentary would be next to impossible with any curse garbling enabled.

Yes. Your account is Unobtanium Tier, reserved for employees of Anachronism Interactive. All game features are available and enabled by default. You may, if you choose, select to disable certain of these features either individually or as a group.

There’s a whole list of optional features?

The fairy, Kelindra, fluttered up and down in the air as a sort of full-body nod. Why, yes! Adult content can be filtered into 7 categories: Vulgarity, Racial and Ethnic Language, Nudity, Sexual Contact, Drug and Alcohol Use, Realistic Gore, and Realistic Pain.

Why would ANYONE want to play an RPG with real pain? Arnold only needed a split second to figure out why. No. Not for me. Turn off pain.

Kelindra wove a figure-eight pattern in the air. Done. Impacts from weapon attacks will feel like pillow fight hits, and energy-based attacks will be no more severe than standing in front of a fireplace, reaching into a household freezer, or licking a battery.

Arnold nodded his approval. Nice. I can probably do without the racist shit, too. I’m getting too old to put up with whiny little edgelords.

Kelindra swooped around again. Done. You will no longer hear derogatory comments regarding race, religion, sexual identity, or gender.

Leave the rest. I’m good for now, I think.

"Enjoy your stay in Spires of Fate."

Kelindra flew a pattern in the air that left a trail of sparkles resembling a knot. When the knot pulled tight, she was gone.

This game is so neat!

Arnold didn’t bother shooting free arrows at the hapless, adorable residents of this island.

What island was it, anyway?

Well, according to his minimap, he was in…

KAWAIIAN JUNGLE

Hello, Kawaii! I, Connor the Titleless am here to save you, conquer you, or meet a mysterious and sexy newcomer like myself once she manages to log in. Can’t wait to find out how this all goes.

Whistling to embarrass bards across the game, Arnold meandered his way through the jungle, admiring the scenery.

CHAPTER 5

FUCK THIS PLACE

KAWAIIAN ISLANDS

Konroh appeared on the beach, same as fucking usual. The first thing he did was take quick stock of his stats.

NAME: Konroh TITLE: Sir

CLASS: Knight LEVEL: 1

HP: 10 MP: 0 ATK: 6 DEF: 4

SKILLS:

NOBLE BLOOD

Those were some healthy stats for starting gear. And he was starting out with the Noble Blood skill? That was new.

Since he had it sheathed at his hip, he knew he was still carrying his sword. He checked to see what else they’d given him to start.

WEAPON: RAVAGER’S SWORD

ARMOR: NOBLE KNIGHT’S ARMOR

CLOAK:

HELMET:

BOOTS:

GLOVES:

ACCESSORY:

ACCESSORY:

Well, they’d expanded the equipment system since last go around. Apparently, the boots he was wearing came with the armor, since he wasn’t walking barefoot through the sand. Felt like an oversight.

Feeling magnanimous, he went into the old, familiar bug system.

REPORT BUG

"I’m not officially wearing boots, but I’m not barefoot,