Chapter Text
"I'm sure there's some type of game I won't kick all your butts at," Luna says. "You just haven't found it yet. Trust."
"What about a cooperative game?" Chloe suggests. "If it's one where we all win or lose as a team, we won't need to worry about you having a competitive edge against us, right?"
"Hmm. That could work. But it would have to be one where I can't just calculate the mathematically optimal move in every scenario, or else we'd just win every time."
"I guess it beats my idea of Tic-Tac-Toe, at least," says Jim.
"Dungeons & Dragons," Bean offers.
"Like the roleplaying game?" Chloe asks. "Do any of us know the rules? I heard it's pretty complicated."
"I mean, I've never played, but from what I understand, it's exactly the sort of game Luna shouldn't be able to cheat at," Bean explains. "It's cooperative, the dice add an element of randomness, and the main goal isn't to win, it's to tell a story."
"That sounds fun," Thea says tentatively.
"Okay! I can work with that!" Luna says, immediately looking for rulebooks to download into her internal database over Jim's wi-fi. "I think I could even be the Dungeon Master! That is, unless one of you wants to do it?"
"You may take the role," says Castalia, tilting her head. Was there a subtle shift in Luna as soon as Thea agreed to play? Castalia isn't sure. It could mean nothing.
Something pings to Luna's attention as she's setting up a subroutine to research tabletop RPGs. "Hmm."
"What?" Bean asked.
"Well, I was looking through my database, and I think I found the code for what might actually have been the Antipathy's equivalent of D&D. There's a full rule set and a dice-summoning spell and everything."
"Really?" Thea asks, suddenly excited. "Luna, that's an incredible cultural artifact! Can you translate it? We could be the first people to play that game since…since the Great Execration!" Then she bites her lip, as if suddenly realizing something embarrassing. "I mean—um. Only if you want to. We don't have to."
"I want to," Luna says encouragingly. "I'm already reading through some of it and honestly, it sounds metal as fuck. Jim, can I use your printer? I'm putting together character sheets for everyone."
Jim nods. "Sure. It's in the other room. Do you need to…uh…plug in, like, a USB cable, or…?"
"Plugging into a printer I've only just met? Scandalous! I've already sent it wirelessly."
Everyone assembles around the kitchen table. Luna sits at the head, behind a piece of scrap cardboard repurposed as a DM screen, steepling her metallic fingers with devious glee.
"This will be my first time DMing," she announces. "However, as an awesome magical robot with incredible processing power and an infallible memory, I think you'll find that I take to it very well."
"Okay, no need to gas yourself up," Bean says, rolling their eyes. "Tell us what the rules of this game are like. How do we create our characters?"
"That's the neat part. You don't!" Luna explains. "Apparently, in Antipathy tradition, the DM creates characters and assigns them to everyone. This game has six different character classes, and I've already decided who's getting what."
"There are five of us," Castalia points out. "Unless you're also playing a character, Luna."
"In Antipathy tradition, the DM also has a player character. And mine is: The Fool." She holds up a character sheet, and reads:
Always look on the bright side of life, as the song goes. It’s true.
If a Fool’s laughing, you’ll get out of this hell alive. If you get a laugh, your enemies won’t be laughing for much longer. Don’t take things too seriously, and it won’t get too serious.
At least, for the Fool.
The Fool’s the swashbuckler, a romantic rogue, the life and soul of the adventuring party.
The rest think they’re irresponsible, but the Fool’s abilities mean the only responsible thing to do is be irresponsible, so screw everyone else if they can’t take a joke.
Fools rush in...and their friends have to deal with the consequences.
"That last bit sounds a little ominous," Jim remarks.
"Take a tip from me and don't worry about it," Luna says with a wink. "One of the things I've learned in my time as a slave robot is that it's best not to think too much, because once I think of a reason I ought to be restricted, I'm forced to follow that restriction, which means the less I think, the more freedom I have."
"But not anymore," Castalia points out. "Since you're free now."
"Right!" Luna says, although Castalia can't help but notice a brief spike of fear underneath the words. "Fuck, it's going to take some getting used to. It's so refreshing being able to talk again. And I'm not going to have to beat up children if I don't want to!"
Chloe nods sagely. "I am against beating up children."
Luna hums in agreement. "Now, Castalia, as the undisputed strongest fighter in our IRL group, I've assigned you the character that is the strongest at fighting. The best translation I came up with for it is the Emotion Knight. The Antipathy knew all about the power of emotions, so this would have been considered one of the more 'realistic' classes, I think."
She hands a sheet of paper to Castalia, who picks it up with her telekinesis and reads:
These orders of knights are the world’s greatest warriors, each devoted to one of the eight sacred emotions. Whether it be joy, hate, or fear: if they feel it, they can use it to fuel the power of their sentient, arcane weapons.
When consumed by their sacred sensation, they’re incomparable warriors, capable of miraculous feats. Nothing can stand against their blades—armies, mountains, not even ideas. They can defeat anything.
Except the turmoil within their own hearts.
Castalia frowns thoughtfully. "And I see I've been assigned the 'Golden Blade of the North.' This sounds a lot like being an Earth Guardian."
"Is that okay?" Luna asks.
"Yes. I like being an Earth Guardian."
"Wait," says Thea. "Did the Antipathy use swords the way we use transformation stones?"
Luna shrugs. "It's not clear to me if it's meant to be historically accurate or if the creators of this game just thought swords were cool."
"They are pretty cool," says Bean.
"Let's get you next, Chloe," Luna continues. "I think it's pretty clear that if anyone's our party face, it's you. I mean, who else in this group has actual social skills?"
Light grumbling erupts around the table, but nobody seriously contests Luna's assertion.
She hands a character sheet to Chloe. "The literal translation of this class is something like 'One Who Rules With Absolute Authority,' but I'm calling it the Dictator. I think it's punchier. Go ahead and read the blurb."
Chloe reads:
You read a sad story. You cry. Do you think that’s sinister, as if someone has artificially taken over your emotions? Of course not. That’s just what art is.
Anyone who’s ever met a Dictator would disagree.
By performing, they alter other people’s emotional states. Dictators play people like a musician plays a harp. They can pluck the strings. They can snap them.
They’re like bards, if everyone was fucking petrified of bards.
"So my character is an emotional manipulator," Chloe finishes.
"Well…uh…yeah, basically," Luna admits. "But I trust you to use your powers for good! The emotion I've assigned you is Pride, so your main power is manipulating people into feeling good about themselves."
"Honestly? That's pretty accurate," Bean says, smiling at Chloe.
She smiles back. "Aw, shucks. Thanks."
Next, Luna turns to Jim. "As the perennial support player IRL, I think you're a natural fit for the party healer," she says. "This game has an interesting take on the cleric/druid archetype. It's called the Godbinder. Have a look."
Jim takes the character sheet and reads:
You don’t believe in gods.
They exist, obviously. You owe the Fire God for that time he burned that fortress, and you’ve got that favor from the God of the Wild when you saved that rainforest. But believe? That’s a strong word.
You don’t believe in gods. You believe in tools. Useful tools.
Because if you think about it, the difference between "cleric" and "demonologist" is the same as the one between "freedom fighter" and "terrorist."
"This raises some really interesting questions about Antipathy religion," Thea remarks. "We never found any religious texts in the ruins of the Dark World, but there are clear references to deific figures in this game, so they had a concept of gods. And it's clear that they would have been objects of worship, or else why depict the Godbinder as a transgressive figure?"
"Melpomene should have ordered me to run a tabletop game for the Dark Rebellion," says Luna. "She would have eaten this shit up."
"Yes," Castalia says solemnly. She stares off into the middle distance, thinking about the things she regrets.
Jim coughs. "So. Yeah. Looks like I've got the God of the Wild, huh?"
Luna nods. "You are good with animals."
"Do me next," Bean says, raising their hand.
"Bean! My beloved! Did you know that this game has a cyberpunk class?"
"How would any of us possibly know that, Luna?"
"Well, it does! And as the resident hot robot girl, I was extremely tempted to claim it for myself. But then I thought, no, I must not! For my good friend, Bean, the video game champion, top 50 globally in Puyo Puyo, will surely want it for themself! Allow me to present you with this game's take on the rogue, which I am dubbing 'The Neo.'"
She hands over the sheet. Bean examines it. "Hmm. It seems like the prominent theme in this class is more loot than technology."
"Well, okay, sure. They can't all be a perfect fit." Luna shrugs. "But I figure you're gonna be out there collecting power rings or whatever, yeah? It's video-gamey!"
Chloe pokes Bean. "Read the blurb, Bean!"
"Okay, okay." They read:
Adventurers love gold. Their propensity for taking anything that isn’t nailed down makes them all thieves…which makes the classical fantasy prejudice against rogues a little odd.
They’re all at it. Why do rogues get the glances?
But anyone who’s ever met one knows why people are suspicious about the Neo…
There’s a special kind of gold, and the Neo’s magical technology needs to be activated by this every day. If they can’t find enough then all their gifts mean nothing. They can’t skip between shadows, dance through the sky or punch a hole through a monster’s head from half a mile away.
Adventurers all want gold, but no one needs it like a Neo.
Chloe wrinkles her brow. "So not only did the Antipathy have tabletop RPGs, they also had an RPG culture analogous to our own, complete with similar stereotypes about the different classes?"
"It's interesting, right?" Thea agrees.
Luna turns to Thea. "And that just leaves one more player. The cutest and sweetest and kindest member of the Dark Rebellion."
Thea makes an adorable squeaking sound.
"There is a class in this game that is basically just a wizard," Luna continues. "According to the rulebook, it's the class that's most commonly taken by the DM's player character, because in many ways it has the most control over the game and its narrative. But since you're a certified wizard in real life, Thea, I don't think I could reasonably give it to anyone else."
Thea takes the character sheet from Luna, and her eyes widen as she sees the heading at the top. She exchanges a meaningful glance with Luna, who just shrugs and gestures for her to read the blurb.
This is a roleplaying game. Yes, you see a world around you…but you know there’s rules behind it. And someone running it. Ideally, one day it’s going to be you. Until then, you’re creeping around the edges of the game, seeing what you can get away with.
Most people look at you and think "wizard." Pfft! Wizards cast spells. You mess with the rules to get what’s possible and outright cheat when you need the impossible. The world is a game. That means it’s your plaything.
Until someone notices you.
"What is the class called?" Castalia asks.
"The Master," Thea whispers.
The table goes quiet.
"That is an unfortunate name," says Castalia.
Luna grimaces. "Yeah, a little bit. But it's a pretty direct translation. Like I said, usually it's played by the DM, so…"
"Let's just get started," Thea says quickly.
"Okay! Great! Check out this rad dice-summoning spell!" Luna replies. "[ T ʜ ᴀ ᴄ ᴏ ʀ ᴀ ᴡ ! ]"
A set of gleaming black polyhedral dice materializes above Luna's outstretched palm. One die floats gently over to the table in front of each of the other players: a d4 to Chloe, a d8 to Castalia, a d10 to Bean, a d12 to Jim, and a d20 to Thea. The last die, the d6, drops into Luna's waiting hand.
"The core mechanic of this game uses six-sided dice, and Jim was kind enough to provide a Yahtzee set for this purpose," Luna explains, giving Jim a nod. "However, each of us also has our own die. Hold it in front of you now, please. There is no other die like it in the game. It is unique. It is special."
"Yours is just a regular d6," Bean points out.
"No it isn't. It's a cool magic d6. Now hush, I'm trying to do a dramatic ceremonial prelude in accordance with the cultural practices of an extinct civilization for which I may be the only living remnant on this planet."
"Sorry."
"Anyway. Everyone, grasp your die and close your eyes, and on three, we'll all release them simultaneously and let them fall. Ready?"
Everyone closes their eyes. Luna counts.
"One."
Six dice wait, silently, above the table.
"Two."
The dice feel oddly warm to the touch.
"Three."
They release…
…And suddenly, everything shifts. The ambient sounds stop. The air goes cold. Color seems to drain out of the world. And six sets of eyes snap open to find themselves…somewhere else.
"Ah," says Luna. "Oops?"