Paying to Win in a VRMMO: Volume 1 Read online

  0 - Prologue

  Blasts of air, streaks of light, roars of sound. Shattering fire, dancing lightning. And wherever the two shockwaves collided, no objects would be permitted existence.

  It was an extraordinary sight. It seemed unreal...

  Of course, it wasn’t real. That was a fact.

  But would any of those standing there, watching those two avatars locked in joyous combat, really agree? The spectacle was nothing but an illusion, a mirage created by lines of code. Most people would admit to this readily enough. But, deep down in their hearts, would they really believe it?

  The two greatest players on the Asgard Continent were colliding as everyone watched with bated breath.

  A Human and a Dragonet.

  A Fighter and a Magi-Fencer.

  And... There was another, more decisive way to define the difference between them. But we needn’t reveal that just yet.

  The boy disarmed the Dragonet, sending his sword flying. But none of those present thought for a moment that this was the end of it. The man called up his menu window, selected “Config” with a well-practiced flick of the wrist, and immediately had an identical sword back in his hand. Its appearance was highly ornamental, but it was a greatsword with incredibly high combat stats. Each one cost 1,200 yen: a rather outrageous price for a tie-in item which had earned antipathy from many players.

  “Pretty bourgeois...”

  “Nonsense,” the Dragonet replied to the boy’s idle grumbling. “It is true that I have a bit more money than you, but do you have a problem with that?”

  The boy shrugged and responded. “Nah, not really.”

  “I thought not.” His menu window still open, the man selected “Config” once more, leading him to the game’s microtransaction menu. Without hesitation, he tapped his credit card icon, selected the item he wanted, and selected the amount. Then he entered his PIN. There was a crash.

  The sudden influx of new items caused countless consumables to overflow from the Dragonet’s inventory, crashing onto the ground.

  In this game, the number of potions in circulation in NPC shops was limited per day, and the classes that could create them with alchemy were similarly limited. But this Dragonet man had simply ordered an overwhelming number of the “Basic Item Pack” microtransaction and, in an instant, summoned up more potions than a single avatar could use in a year.

  “Hey, old man, ain’t you gonna use those potions? You shouldn’t waste ’em.”

  “Nonsense. I decide what’s waste and what’s not. This mountain of potions is not wasted... Not if I use them to beat you.”

  The tension that hung between the two of them had already reached critical levels, like a powder keg waiting for a spark. After more back-and-forth banter than anyone could count, would this match finally be settled?

  No one watching knew for sure.

  A Dragonet and a Human.

  A Magi-Fencer and a Fighter.

  And there was one other decisive difference between them.

  Namely...

  A whale and a hardcore gamer.

  1 - Noble Son, Begin

  Hayato Tsuwabuki’s birthday party was held at the Hotel Grand Hills in early July. He would be 99 years old.

  He had been the owner of the Tsuwabuki Zaibatsu, and had remained active as a mediator between the related companies after its disbandment after the war. Even now, he remained an influential person worldwide.

  Nowadays he lived as a recluse, having bequeathed his fortune to his grandson, Meiro, but his ostentatious habits remained, and once a year he held a party like this.

  The finest names in Japanese society were in attendance. Yet all eyes were fixed on just one man.

  If you strained your ears, perhaps you could hear it...

  On the 120th floor, high above the clamorous uproar of the lower world: a violin’s melody. It was a swift, elegant tune, yet a cold passion ran beneath the surface.

  Behind the unhurried movements of the bow, the player’s expression was serene. Not a hair stood out of place in his neatly arranged platinum blond coif. He was a strikingly handsome man, the kind who turned heads wherever he passed. It was only natural, then, that many of the most eligible ladies in high society sent steamy glances his way.

  At last the tune ended, and those who had been captivated by his performance — the vast majority of the guests — broke into wholehearted applause.

  The man, seeming to give little heed to the applause, thanked them offhandedly and returned to the seat that had been reserved for him.

  “What a versatile young man he is! The heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern...”

  “His playing was invigorating. Truly splendid.”

  These glowing words were from men old enough to be his father.

  “Ichiro. Wasn’t that Ernst’s ‘Grand Caprice on Der Erlkönig’?”

  “I hear it’s one of the most difficult violin solos there is! You made it look so easy...”

  These lavish compliments came from ladies of beauty and refinement.

  But every one of them was a phrase Ichiro Tsuwabuki was well used to hearing, so he simply nodded along as he placed his violin in its case. He had brought the instrument along merely as entertainment for the party. He hadn’t even touched it for two or three years. Even something that earned him such lofty praise simply as a matter of course was nothing but an idle pastime for Ichiro, a man well aware of his personal brilliance.

  It’s nonsense.

  The words drifted into his mind of their own accord. The compliments to his playing skill did nothing to lift his spirits.

  Ichiro Tsuwabuki was bored once again. He was numb.

  A few seats away, his great-grandfather Hayato Tsuwabuki could be seen chatting gaily with a crowd of esteemed politicians. From time to time, they glanced over at him, perhaps using him as the object of discussion.

  Starved for amusement, Ichiro looked around the room, only to find his gaze drawn by the sight of a girl. She was standing beside a table as stiff as a statue, dressed in a white dress that, while gorgeous, was clearly wearing her.

  Though most would agree she was charming enough, she was nothing compared to the beautiful women all around her. That was the kind of girl she was.

  “You’re quiet today, Asuha,” Ichiro said to her.

  She opened her mouth to say something back, then bowed her head for a moment before looking back up at him and answering.

  “Well... you know... I’ve just never been to one of these things before,” Asuha Tsuwabuki said in response. “I mean, I don’t live in a big house like yours, Itchy. My father’s just a regular office drone. Why would Great-grandpa invite me to a place like this? What was he thinking?”

  “I doubt he was thinking anything in particular. Great-grandfather just likes you, that’s all.”

  Ichiro caught sight of one of the waiters who was smoothly navigating the room, stopped him, and asked for a glass of orange juice. The waiter thanked him with a dignified and not even slightly sarcastic smile and glided off.

  “Yeah, and I think you get your arrogance from him.”

  Ichiro laughed. “Nonsense. I have nowhere near his stubbornness.”

  “You’re the only one who thinks so,” Asuha sulked.

  As she spoke, the waiter from earlier returned with a glass of orange juice on a tray, and, at Ichiro’s urging, set it in front of Asuha.

  The glass was delicate, tall and thin like a champagne flute, and the sweet-sour citrus aroma that drifted up from it suggested only the finest.

  Asuha picked up the glass with a sigh and stared hard at the liquid. She did not move to drink it.

  “This is that stuff that’s 1,200 yen a glass, r
ight?”

  “I don’t know, but likely so.”

  “It’s ridiculous. You could just give me the money, and I’d buy a whole case of Sarashibo Orange.” Despite her grumbling, Asuha’s anxiety appeared to be slowly washing away.

  Of course, an objective look at the party guests would suggest she had a good reason to be suspicious of her great-grandfather’s invitation. His family tree was a vast one, yet his great-grandchildren, Ichiro and Asuha, were the only blood relatives he had invited.

  Many of the guests were clearly hoping to see Ichiro’s father Meiro Tsuwabuki, president of the Tsuwabuki Concern, but he hadn’t come. As a result, Ichiro had been left to endure the brunt of the many high-society sycophants seeking an in with his father’s business. In other words, a lot of nonsense.

  In the end, though, the deepest motive at play appeared to be nothing more than a desire to show off his accomplished great-grandson — Ichiro — and his lovely great-granddaughter — Asuha — to the outside world.

  Despite appearances, Ichiro liked his great-grandfather, and had attended several such occasions. But all the same, he couldn’t claim he enjoyed them.

  “Hey, Itchy. What have you been up to lately?” Asuha asked after finally gulping down her 1,200 yen orange juice.

  “You mean in work, or in my private life?”

  Asuha stared at him, exasperated. “I thought you didn’t help out with Uncle Meiro’s work that much.”

  “I don’t help at all. Well, what I’m up to is much the same as ever. I’ve been spending a lot of time in Yamanashi lately.”

  “Another weird bug?”

  “That appellation is a matter of perspective. I think of them as beautiful insects, myself.”

  As one might imply from Asuha’s use of “another,” bug-watching was something of a hobby for Ichiro. He’d set out for Yamanashi on a quest to find the rare species of Japanese emperor, the national butterfly.

  Ichiro could spend all night talking about the fabulous appeal of its unique spot pattern, but he refrained in this case. He did have some self-control, after all.

  “If you keep this up, Itchy, no girl’s ever gonna want to marry you.”

  Asuha’s words caught the attention of the many beautiful girls around them. All of the eligible ladies at the highest levels of society were infatuated with Ichiro Tsuwabuki, young heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern. Many were wannabe Cinderellas who dreamed of marrying up into his beyond-rich-and-famous lifestyle.

  But Ichiro’s response...

  “As the human race has already reached its apex in me, I have no interest in spreading my seed.” That line was an immediate interest-killer, awakening the girls from their Cinderella dreams in a snap.

  But his cousin Asuha, who had known him for a long time, was well accustomed to his unsettling outbursts, and responded without batting an eye.

  “Itchy, are you interested in online games?” she began.

  “No,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.

  She stared at him.

  He gazed back at her.

  “You just cut me off before I could talk!” she exclaimed, finally.

  “Nonsense. You of all people know what my personality is like, Asuha.”

  “Y-You’re so mean...”

  “I may appear that way to some.”

  Asuha sighed, then started again. “Okay, um. Well, I’ve been playing a VRMMO lately.”

  “Oh?”

  The unexpected word caught Ichiro’s attention. A VRMMO, was it?

  VR stood for “virtual reality,” technology for creating fully immersive fictional worlds. About ten years ago, some genius girl who had graduated from MIT had proposed “drive technology,” a form of VR that used particle waves that created sympathetic neural resonance to immerse the consciousness in a virtual space. Most talk of virtual reality nowadays referred to this.

  MMO stood for “massively multiplayer online.” It was almost always followed by the word “RPG,” and, simply put, they were online games that were popular all over the world. When someone talked about playing games online, most of the time, they were talking about MMORPGs.

  A VRMMO, then, was an MMO that ran on VR technology.

  Asuha was still in middle school, as far as he knew. A girl of her tender age shouldn’t be spending a lot of time in online games, which fostered relationships in a virtual space and required significant investment to remain competitive in...

  Or, at least, that was the conventional wisdom of the world, but Ichiro Tsuwabuki refused to be bound by such things. So he did not scowl excessively in response, but instead merely expressed mild surprise that the outgoing and athletic tomboy Asuha was devoting herself to playing a video game.

  “That’s unusual.”

  “Y-Yeah. The truth is, um, well...”

  From the way she was stammering, he wondered if there must be more to the situation than she was letting on. Perhaps her inquiry about his interest was actually an invitation. Perhaps she was asking for his aid in some way.

  “So, um. I was wondering if you might play with me, Itchy...”

  “Hmm...” Ichiro stroked his chin and thought.

  Relatively speaking, out of all his blood relatives, Asuha was the one he was closest to. He would feel bad about turning her down flat, but that alone wasn’t enough to motivate him. He would first do a thorough cost-reward analysis in his mind, and act based on that. Ichiro took it as a fundamental rule of life to only do things he really wanted to do.

  What would it be like, he wondered.

  He had certainly been lacking for amusements lately. A regular MMO he would dismiss out of hand, but the addition of those two little letters — that cutting-edge technology, “VR” — sparked an interest in him that he couldn’t deny.

  “Is it interesting?”

  “Umm...” Her lack of immediate confirmation indicated an honesty that he greatly appreciated. “It feels a little weird, really. It’s like a video game, but it’s also like you’re playing pretend. I guess because you’re really moving around.”

  “I see.”

  “But, but... I think you might really like it, Itchy. The graphics are really pretty.”

  “If you insist, Asuha, perhaps I will try it.” Ichiro’s words caused Asuha’s expression to light up.

  “Really?!”

  “Really.”

  If it would help to relieve his recent boredom, that alone would make it worthwhile. It wouldn’t carry much of a monetary investment, and if he truly enjoyed it, all the better. Even if the game itself didn’t tickle his fancy, depending on the nature of Asuha’s request, he might still be happy to help her out.

  Just then, he recalled something. His live-in servant had recently made mention of a VRMMO she’d been addicted to. He wondered what the title was.

  “So anyway, the game’s called Narrow Fantasy Online.”

  Yes, that was the one. Then again, there were only two actual VRMMO games on the market right now. Among those in the financial world quietly monitoring the state of virtual reality technology, they were known as “the popular one” and “the unpopular one.”

  He seemed to remember that Narrow Fantasy Online was “the popular one.”

  “Sakurako-san plays that game, as well.”

  “Oh, her? Yeah, I bet she would...”

  Asuha had only met Ichiro’s live-in servant a handful of times, but she seemed to remember her well. Ichiro didn’t consider the servant’s personality terribly eccentric, but she must have left a strong impression on a girl like Asuha.

  For now, Ichiro’s indication that he would try the game out seemed to inspire a relieved-looking smile in Asuha.

  She didn’t seem overjoyed, which lent weight to his theory that there was more to this than a simple desire to play a game together. What, then, could have gotten a girl of Asuha’s age so deeply immersed in a VRMMO? He could speculate, of course. But without more solid proof, all he could do was wait for her to tell him.

 
“By the way, Itchy, do you even play video games?” she asked.

  “A friend of mine in college liked games quite a lot. He lent me Populous, which I quite enjoyed.”

  “Oh, come on,” she protested lightly.

  Well, Ichiro’s college days were ten years in the past. He hadn’t played a computer game in a long time. He didn’t exactly yearn for those days when he’d been lionized as a prodigy, but looking back now, perhaps there might have been a more age-appropriate way to enjoy them.

  Although he had said he didn’t play video games, he did enjoy feeling out his own playstyle within the strict limits of what was allowed by the program. Perhaps it would be stimulating.

  “I’m so glad,” she said. “The truth is, I came to the party to ask you that.”

  “You could have sent an e-mail or called.”

  “You can’t ask someone a favor if you’re not face to face.” For a girl her age, Asuha was very conscientious about such things.

  Well, one way or another, the girl in the white dress was now smiling. Ichiro nodded in approval. He asked her about how the game was played and other things, and made it through the rest of the party relatively free of boredom.

  “By the way, would you like another juice?” he added.

  “No, thanks. If I keep drinking this stuff, I’m going to go crazy thinking about how much it costs.”

  Heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern, Ichiro Tsuwabuki. In the highest echelons of society, there was no one who didn’t know his name. He never helped with his parents’ work and spent his free time searching for unusual insects. But he was more than a dilettante living off his parents’ dollar. He paid for his house, his living fees, and his maid’s salary, all with the money he earned himself. He hadn’t received an allowance from his parents since New Year’s when he was ten years old.

  After all, he was the noble prodigy, Ichiro Tsuwabuki. He had graduated from Harvard University at the age of nine, and the influence his thesis had had on the economic world would be too much to state in these brief pages. The new theory sent a shockwave through business managers worldwide, and was still being cited in places as a work of enormous authority.