With no one paying much attention, Robin took the opportunity to observe the crowd and make some estimations. Everyone she could see appeared to be low-level; not that she could view their stats to confirm, but it looked that way from their gear.
In The Golden Age, characters started off looking mostly normal — ordinary body types wearing street clothes like her hoodie, with only their masks or similar accessories to designate them as heroes. Over time, they would gradually build up their physical abilities and gear until the high-level players looked like they’d just stepped out of a comic book.
So, glancing around at a crowd full of t-shirts and low-budget cosplays, she felt confident in guessing that most people here were under level 30. Golden Ratio Park was the starting spawn point for new players, and where those characters inevitably returned each time they logged in. The so-called “disaster” must have called everyone “home” in the process of bringing them here.
It took about twenty minutes but, eventually, things started to calm down. When the people yelling got no response, the crowd began to disperse, some to search for answers from the established channels and others to group up with friends. Though a few — a hundred, at least — stayed where they were, staring up at the statue or the blimp or the empty sky as they began to process their new reality.
The cheerleader girl got the cry out of her system and straightened up, dabbing the last tears from her eyes. “God. I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”
“It’s fine.” Robin offered what she hoped was an understanding smile. “Anyone would be freaked out.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m freaking out on the inside.”
That wasn’t true. Robin had always been the sort to find focus in chaos and acceptance in sudden change. Once, in high school, a lab partner had accidentally started a trashcan fire while their teacher was out of the room. As their classmates panicked, Robin simply fetched the fire extinguisher. Didn’t even run.
It was like that now: her thoughts silent save for what she needed, her focus narrowing on the task at hand. She was here. She couldn’t change that, yet. So, what could she do?
She took out her phone again. “You should probably find your friends. People aught to stick together at times like this.”
Cheerleader girl gave a bitter chuckle. “What friends? I don’t know anyone who plays this game. I barely got through the tutorial.”
Robin opened an app labeled Messages to find herself in a similar position. She’d done more than the tutorial but her character was still only level 3 and she’d been trying to stay under the radar. So, no parties, no friends. Still, the app’s user interface was familiar. It looked just like the social hub from the game, with space for a friend’s list, party requests and private messaging.
“What’s your name?”
Robin startled, having forgotten that she wasn’t alone. The cheerleader didn’t seem offended.
“I’m Tisha. In real life, I mean. And you?”
“…Robin.”
“Wow. I thought the system didn’t allow users to register with copyrighted names. Did you, like, use a one and a zero or…?”
“No!” Robin sputtered. “It’s not my handle, it’s my real…” She bit her lip, buying a moment to turn the words over in her mind until they sounded more natural. “It’s my name. Robin Sinclair.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Tisha ducked her head in embarrassment. An awkward silence stretched between them. “…are you going to call your friends?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Then maybe we should stick together. That’s bound to be safer than wandering around on our own, right?”
“Maybe…”
Robin considered the offer. She didn’t object to teaming up with other players; hell, it was only to be expected in an online game. She’d been running solo on this character, but that had been Before. The situation Now was very different. Moreover, unlike her, Tisha Madison seemed a genuine newbie. She and people like her would no doubt have the hardest time adjusting in the days to come.
Her mind made up, Robin rolled to her feet and offered Tisha a hand up. “Come on. I’ve got some tests I want to try.”
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